The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Just take your mind off it,” Stana instructed her.

Marissa was trying, but it was hard. It was hard because Stana had designed it that way— she’d set the frame, she’d set the rules of their little game, and she’d designed it so that those rules were deliberately hard.

Still, while Marissa was here, playing the game with her, she had no choice but to follow its rules. And that meant trying, even when it was so hard to do.

“I’m taking my mind off it,” Marissa gritted. She was seated before Stana on a low stool, in the center of the room. And Stana was seated much more comfortably on her couch, with one leg slung over the other as she watched Marissa trying and failing.

There was a thought in the center of Marissa’s mind that she wasn’t supposed to think. A thought that, if she did think, would pull her down into a spiral of other cascading thoughts. She was supposed to be proving to Stana that she was too strong to think that thought— too strong to fall into that spiral.

Stana had implanted the thought there. And had deliberately conditioned Marissa through the course of their long game to be almost completely unable to resist. But still, for this part of the game Marissa at least had try to resist— had to think about anything but that black hole sitting in the center of her mind.

“I’m thinking anything but that thought,” Marissa recited, with some effort. “I’m thinking anything but that thought.”

But Marissa could feel herself circling it— she worried she would think it soon. Thinking it always felt like dipping into water— at first it was safe, but thinking it more and more was like descending the shoreline to a deeper point, and inevitably, the moment in which Marissa was seized and pulled down the spiral of cascades inevitably arrived with the force of a violent undertow.

“Just think about anything else,” Stana said, serenely. As if she were helping Marissa, and not the source of her problems. “Anything else at all. It’s not so hard to keep your mind off it, is it? There are plenty of other things to think about, aren’t there?”

Marissa gritted her teeth and tried harder. She felt like Stana was mocking her— she often felt that way. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant feeling. And it was hard not to notice how comfortable and at ease Stana was, when she, Marissa, was caught in such a difficult struggle— to which Stana was indifferent. And of which she at least the indirect cause.

“It’s easy if you try,” Stana coached her further.

But the thought had a gravitational pull to it. It led down into that descending spiral, and the longer the thought pulled at Marissa, tempting her to come think it, the more that Marissa wanted to go. She wanted to think that thought, and fall into its spiral. Wanted to be pulled further and further down it by the other thoughts that linked to it in a chain.

But she had to not. Once she thought the thought, the game would be over— she’d fall down into that other mental state, the one she was very much trying not to think about and not to name. Even just naming it would be so closely bordering on the central thought that it would basically tip her over into losing. It had happened that way many times before. She didn’t want it to happen again. Not that way. Not this soon.

Stana was undisturbed, watching her curiously. She always seemed genuinely interested when she had Marissa play for her this way. Even though she’d watched Marissa lose so many times before, she always watched her as if she really believed Marissa might win out this time— or at least hold out, longer than she ever had before.

That open look of non-judgement and non-expectation always threw Marissa. She never knew what to do in response to it.

“I’m thinking about anything else,” Marissa exclaimed, but her voice was thin. She was trying to think about anything else, but everything else in the world seemed suddenly simple, and skimmable. Nothing had substance, nothing had content. Everything else was surface-level and trivial, unworthy of notice or consideration. There was one thing that was worth thinking— there was one thing that was worth considering. And it was just sitting right there, in the center of Marissa’s mind. Perfectly positioned, on the off-chance that she did want to consider it.

She did want to consider it, but she wasn’t supposed to yet. She was trying to think of other things— but she was running out. She’d run through lists of routines already— things she had to do, things she had forgotten to do, things she had recently done, things that were coming up, but not right away, things that would only be coming up much later— but there had been nothing there that had hooked into her and kept her focus. Everything was out around the edges, orbiting the central thought— everything was being pulled in by its exerting force.

She changed tacks: lists of objects. Lists of trivia— of geography, of animals, of elements, of anything that she could put into a list in the hopes that it might captivate her and consume her focus.

She ran through many lists like that, but none of them kept her. None of them could hold onto her and keep her back from the void that was that thought.

Fine, she wouldn’t do geography, or trivia— she’d run through the alphabet. She’d run through her multiplication tables. She’d— she’d—

The alphabet went through her head in a stream of letters. She ran from A to Z— then for the added challenge, ran it back again from Z to A. It didn’t help. She went up the multiplication tables like climbing a mental ladder; she got all the way up to the table for 20, went past 20 to 21, past 21 to 22, through 22 to 23 and 23 to 24, then up past 25 and 6 and 7, and 30— and it didn’t help.

Nothing helped. She ran through the colors of the rainbow— she named every other shade of a color she could think of. It had only been minutes— Stana kept a clock on the wall above her couch, and Marissa’s failure was staring in her in the face, ticking onwards. It had only barely been four minutes. She seemed to get worse and worse at the game every time they played— failed more and more quickly each turn. There had been a time once when she’d been able to last an hour without thinking it. And a time, too, when she had been able to last a half-an-hour, and twenty minutes, and ten, and five.

All of these were distant memories now. The second hand had just ticked past the twelve again— signaling one further minute, the transit from three minutes to four, and she knew in her heart she wouldn’t make it five.

The thought had expanded. All other thoughts Marissa was trying to think had been pushed so far out by it they practically felt as if they were conforming to the inside of her skull. There was nowhere to look, internally or externally, but at that void.

And when she looked at the void, she knew which words it was holding. And knowing them was seeing them— and seeing them was thinking them— and she thought, I obey Stana.

Once the thought was thought, Marissa sighed. All the pressure of trying to resist, the pressure of pulling back against the thought’s pull was relieved.

She obeyed, because she was obedient… she was obedient and she belonged to Stana… the chain of thoughts was already carrying her away, and running her down their line. Pulling her down and down the spiral. It felt so comforting— felt so happy there.

“Have you lost, Marissa?” Stana asked, but Marissa’s focus was still directed inward on her falling. The spiral was taking up all her focus now, in the way that the void around the thought had taken it up before.

“Yes, Stana,” Marissa sighed— because it felt so good. It felt like pleasure and relief and joy. It felt like peace and serenity, and calm. It felt like a million other things too, only Marissa could never name them all. Especially because the longer she went spiraling down, the less able she was to think. She was forgetting words and language. She was forgetting everything but the truth of her obedience. And it was a truth that was only becoming more truer as she reflected on it.

She wanted to keep reflecting on it, because it so satisfied her. It was so comfortable and safe that she just wanted to stay in it forever, until she was ready to leave, and that would be never— soon she would even forget the dream of leaving… she just had to keep following the train of thought…

“Perfect, Marissa,” Stana praised her. “Now come over and play your obedience out with me.”

And Marissa followed the command as easily as she had followed the thought.