The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Sarah stopped outside the Countess’s room, heart racing. She’d bribed an usher again to let her in after the evening show, and the stage assistant she’d passed in the dim hallway had spared her but a cursory glance. The Countess hadn’t ordered her kept away, at least.

She pushed open the creaky door. The little back room featured a little antechamber the theater used for storage; as Sarah made her way past old props stacked haphazardly, the familiar smell of incense filled her lungs, and giddy relaxation rushed through her.

Then she saw the woman she was here to meet, and relaxation sparked into red-hot arousal.

The Countess sat in the velvety red armchair, enjoying wine and a book. A Victorian floor lamp with long, golden-and-scarlet fringes lit up the cozy space, the soft light reflecting off her red, swirl-patterned dressing gown.

She sighed as Sarah entered, and she looked up from her book.

“Ninety-Six.” Impatience tinged her husky voice. “What am I to do with you?”

Anything , thought Sarah. Everything.

As silent seconds ticked on and she lingered in the doorway, Sarah’s gaze began to rove the Countess’s body. The dressing gown, loosely knotted at the waist, revealed long legs curled on the soft armchair fabric, and full breasts under a cream chemise...

The Countess pulled the edges of her gown shut. Sarah flushed.

“Sorry. I just...It’s only...”

“I know what it is.” The Countess’s voice stayed soft, even as she straightened in her seat. “Miss, my work has boundaries like any profession. You wished to try my skills. I demonstrated them—repeatedly. Our business is concluded.”

“But if you could only do it one more time—”

“You aren’t my first subject to wish for repeat experiences, but there’s a limit to what I indulge. Please find yourself different entertainment.”

“No one can make me feel like you do. I tried hypnotherapy, went to stage hypnotist shows, I...” Sarah made a frustrated gesture. “It’s not the same. What you do...”

“I’m no stage hypnotist, for all that I ply my trade in this old theater. My skills run deeper than that.”

“Yes.” What the Countess did was deeper than hypnosis. Deeper than anything Sarah had ever experienced.

“That’s precisely the problem. My techniques soften a subject’s mind permanently, over time. Soon, just the ritual of our sessions is enough to enthrall them. If I persist, my voice alone, or just the sight of me will create trance. I must stop before that point: I don’t need crowds of mindless thralls wherever I go.”

Being part of a crowd of mindless thralls worshipping the Countess made Sarah’s pussy clench.

The Countess must’ve seen something in her face. “I admit, Ninety-Six, while I’ve often noticed that those who resist most become the most pliant thralls in the end, none have pursued enthrallment quite so...enthusiastically.”

Hearing her speak about enthrallment, Sarah couldn’t help a small moan.

“You’re the only one who can make me stop thinking,” she whispered. “Struggling and planning. I love it. When you’re in control, everything’s...quiet. Wonderful.”

“Yes. That’s trance. When I suggested those self-enthralling exercises—”

“It’s not the same,” Sarah snapped. “If you’re not there to...That is, if it’s just me...” Her cheeks burned. “I like it when you...take control.”

“There are other venues to help with that.” The Countess put her book down.

“I’ll pay you.”

“I don’t perform solely for money. I enjoy the thrill and challenge of bending a strong mind. Yours has no shred of resistance left, and thus it holds no excitement.”

“I can resist,” said Sarah.

“I’ve brought as far into surrender as you can go.”

“Obviously not far enough—or else I’d do as you wish and not seek you out anymore.”

The Countess’s expression grew icy, and a thrill shot up Sarah’s pussy.

“I don’t make a habit of commanding clients outside our sessions. But should I see fit to break my own rules and order you gone, or erase all memory of me from your mind, I could.” The Countess’s eyes narrowed. “Your mind has submitted to me; it will fold as I wish it.”

“Prove it.” Sarah stepped closer: the talk of submission only made her hotter. “Make me obey. Command me to go. Erase my memories—do anything you want,” she pleaded. “Use me to bring you pleasure. There’s got to be a way this works out for us both.”

The Countess stared at her silently. Sarah couldn’t read her expression.

“This isn’t the sort of entertainment I seek in my private time, believe it or not,” said the Countess at last. “And thought it’s increasingly tempting, I won’t break my rules just to remove an inconvenience.”

Sarah’s breath hitched. “But if you’ll just—”

“So I propose a deal,” the Countess said, ignoring the interruption. “We’ll spend tonight trying to rouse any amount of resistance in you. If you succeed, I’ll agree to meet you monthly. If not, you leave and never seek me out again.”

Sarah hesitated. Never return? Perish the thought.

But it was impossible that she had no resistance left. She clearly went against the Countess’s wishes in coming here. Part of her was not fully obedient, obviously.

“Deal,” she said. “I’ll resist tonight, and we make these meetings regular.”

The Countess stood, and Sarah was struck again by how short she was. The force of her charms loomed huge, but the woman herself barely passed Sarah’s chin.

She stepped closer, and Sarah fought the urge to throw herself at her, peel off the gown, and—

“Sit,” said the Countess, pulling one of the two chairs at the nearby table for herself.

Sarah took the other. Arousal flooded as she sunk into the cushioned chair. What had the Countess said about the mere ritual being enough to produce trance...?

“How shall we test your resistance? We’ve tried several ways of entrancing you. Perhaps you have a favorite?”

“No! Not...favorites.” Sarah’s tongue was having trouble. “Try...counting.” They’d tried counting once, in their second or third encounter, and she’d found it...tedious. Oh, it had worked—but perhaps less well than the Countess’s eyes or her soft induction songs, or...

or...

She shook her head and quit imagining the ways the Countess had entranced her. She needed to resist. Resist just once, tonight, and she’d have this forever.

“Counting it is.” The Countess hummed. “If I count to a hundred and you fail to go into trance, we will consider that resistance.”

A hundred? Just sitting at the table nearly traced Sarah. The Countess’s husky voice counting to a hundred would enthrall her without doubt. Last time they’d only made it to thirty or so.

“Ten,” she mumbled. “You said...any resistance. Ten should be...enough.”

“Very well.” The Countess nodded. “I want you to go into trance as I count, Ninety-Six. If you manage to avoid that until I’ve reached ten, you win. Agreed?”

Sarah nodded, swallowing hard. Suddenly even ten seemed high. But she could do it. She could resist.

“One,” said the Countess, and the world swam out of focus.

Sarah blinked dazedly. The softly-lit room spun around her. Gold-and-red sparks danced in her vision.

She blinked again and focused on the Countess’s wry expression.

“You did not reach ten.”

Sarah moaned. Hearing that voice strummed the chords of her arousal.

“Please,” she murmured. “Make me...”

“That’s not very resisting of you,” said the Countess. “Do you forfeit our game?”

That roused Sarah from her needy haze. “No! No... I... What number did I get to?”

“One.”

Sarah stared. That couldn’t be right.

“As I said: you have no resistance left. Your mind surrenders as soon as we begin.”

Surrenders...

Sarah dragged her attention back to her goal, even as her thoughts tried to scatter into hot, passive arousal.

She had to resist.

Maybe counting to ten had been too ambitious. “Five,” she breathed. “I’ll...resist up to five.”

“You won’t. But very well—you’re free to try.” The Countess’s eyebrows arched. “One—”

Sarah meant to protest that she wasn’t ready, but warm silence trickled from the top of her head, into her temples, all the way to the bottom of her brain, and her thoughts melted like fresh snow in an oven.

Sarah blinked. She felt warm and heavy and wonderful.

The Countess watched her, one elbow on the table and chin resting on her palm. “Shall we call it a night?”

Call it...? Sarah’s heart picked up, and the haze dispersed.

“No...” She coughed, struggling to lift a hand and rub her temples. Her vision was still swimming with golden sparks. “I don’t... I wasn’t...ready...?”

“Evidently.”

“No cheating,” mumbled Sarah, then she winced as the Countess’s expression grew colder. “I just... I need...time to prepare. To resist.”

“Ah. How much time?”

Forever, thought Sarah. She could prepare forever, and still not resist.

But she didn’t need to resist forever. Just until the count of... “How far did you count?”

“One,” said the Countess, and the world briefly wobbled. But Sarah wasn’t supposed to go into trance yet. She managed to blink herself awake before sliding too far down.

“I ... don’t...”

The Countess sighed. “This is a waste of time, Ninety-Six. You cannot summon resistance that doesn’t exist.”

“Doesn’t exist,” murmured Sarah. Yes. Resistance didn’t exist.

But...it had to exist. Or she’d have to leave. And she couldn’t leave... She had to resist.

“Again,” she moaned. “I can...again. But...slowly. I need to...prepare.”

The Countess’s full lips pursed. “A deal’s a deal, I suppose. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Sarah marshalled her wits, such as they were. She could do this. Just resist for a few seconds. Just a few numbers. One, two, three, four...

...those were so many numbers, and the Countess’s pull drained Sarah’s awareness so strongly...

“Three,” she blurted.

The Countess hummed. “What’s that?”

“Three. I can...I can resist up to three.”

“Three it is. Are you ready, or shall we wait longer?”

Sarah cleared her throat and straightened her back, and only then did she realize she was on her knees on the floor. Her head was at table height, tipped back to see the Countess.

“I...” She swayed slightly. She had no memory of going to her knees. “Can I...sit back down...?”

“You can do whatever you wish. It makes no difference whether you sit or stand.”

Sarah climbed unsteadily to her feet, then sank into the chair. Her body felt so heavy. She shook her head and clenched all her muscles. She could do this. She could resist up to three. One, two, three—so easy and fast.

She clenched her fists and faced the Countess. “I’m ready.”

“One,” said the Countess.

Tension whooshed out of Sarah’s clenched muscles, and her body slumped gratefully, sinking into warm, velvety darkness.

Sarah blinked. Her eyes felt dry. She blinked again, observing lazily the water stains on the ceiling. This was so...nice. Quiet. Wonderful...

“You did not resist,” said the Countess, and Sarah smiled and mumbled, obediently:

“D’not resist.”

“Indeed.”

More time passed. Sarah stared. The Countess stared back, fingers drumming the table.

Sarah frowned.

Oh.

The warm heaviness receded enough to let her think. She didn’t even make it to three? That was... well. It didn’t mean anything. It was probably the table. She always went into trance at the table. That was why she had no resistance now. Yes...

“I...chair,” she slurred. “I...sit there. Try again.”

“Certainly. Relocate as you wish.”

Sarah dragged herself to the armchair, feeling as though her body were a leaden mannequin.

“Not counting,” she mumbled, as she sank into the plushy fabric. “Someth...some’n else.”

“You wish to try another method of enthrallment. Why not? Would you like to choose it, Ninety-Six, or shall we have dealer’s choice, as it were?”

Sarah blinked, but the haze in her head lingered. Choices seemed...impossible.

“You,” she sighed.

The Countess stood from the table and walked closer, watching Sarah thoughtfully.

She lifted her right index finger. “You will go into trance when my finger touches your forehead. Do you understand, Ninety-Six?”

“Yes.” Sarah understood. She would go into trance—

“Do you still remember that you’re supposed to resist?”

“Yes,” Sarah agreed. She was supposed to resist. She would go into trance when the Countess’s finger touched her forehead, and then she would resist.

The Countess sighed. “I see. Well, then. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She was ready. She wasn’t sure what she was ready for, but—

“Watch my finger.”

Her eyes fixed on the Countess’s finger, as it descended in a slow arc toward her.

“Remember: you want to resist going into trance.”

Yes. Resist. Resist trance. Resist...

Wait...

No...She had to resist. Just a little. Just...

“Wait,” she breathed. The Countess’s finger was so close, only inches away...

“Yes?” the Countess’s voice floated at the edges of her consciousness. She tried to tear her gaze away from the finger hovering above, but her eyes refused to move.

“Do you need more time to prepare?” sneered the Countess.

“Help,” murmured Sarah. “Help...help me...resist...”

“There’s no help, Ninety-Six. I cannot give you back what is gone. Were I a stage hypnotist, I could perhaps undo the suggestions I implanted. Were I circus mesmerist, my influence over your mind might wane with time. But I am neither. When I conquer a mind, it’s forever.”

“Forever...” Sarah agreed dreamily.

“Do you forfeit, then? Are we done?”

Done. Forfeit... “Yes...” Sarah made a confused noise as the Countess’s finger vanished, leaving her dizzy, like the world had tilted abruptly. “No...” She straightened. When had she slumped over? “Wait... That’s not...not the deal. You said...The night’s not over.”

“Be reasonable,” snapped the Countess. “This accomplishes nothing.”

“The deal said all night,” murmured Sarah, and the Countess made an annoyed noise and waved her hand impetuously. Before Sarah had time to realize it, a cold finger touched the spot between her eyebrows, and the world darkened into warm silence.

The Countess took off her wrist watch and put it on the woman’s lap. “Ninety-Six, look at the watch.”

The entranced woman’s eyes swung down obediently, becoming fixed on the white-and-gold watch face.

“Tell me what time it is.”

“Ten minutes after midnight,” Ninety-Six said quietly, in the calm, blank tones of trance.

“Good. We shall consider seven a.m. the end of the night. I want you to sit and watch the time. Keep trying to resist. If you find any spark of resistance within yourself, you will come out of your trance. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The Countess scoffed. Ninety-Six was as likely to resist as she was to transform into a bat and fly off into the rafters.

She really should’ve put an end to this weeks ago. Instead, she’d indulged her curiosity to see how far Ninety-Six would go...and she was stuck until dawn in this small room that smelled of moth balls. She couldn’t leave a blank-minded client alone in the bowels of the theater.

She refilled her wine glass, then flitted about the room a minute before settling on the creaky sofa. She tried resuming her book, but her focus wavered.

In the armchair, Ninety-Six stared emptily at the watch.

“You know, I’m not certain I’ve ever brought someone this deeply into submission,” the Countess mused. Speaking out loud to thralls was a stage habit; even absent an audience, she tended to stick to it.

The thralls, of course, would make no response unless instructed. But still, she enjoyed hearing her own thoughts out loud, sometimes.

“I suppose I might as well have some fun, since you have me stuck here for the night. Isn’t that right, Ninety-Six? Shouldn’t I get some use out of this pointless exercise?”

“Yes,” said the woman, blank stare still fixed on the watch.

“Stand.”

The woman rose. The watch in her lap slid to the floor, but her gaze remained glued on it.

“Look at me.” The Countess waited until the thrall’s head came up, the glassy stare fixed on her. “When I snap my fingers, you will regain full awareness. Your mind will clear, and you’ll be able to hold a conversation. When the conversation is over, you’ll return to trance at once. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said the thrall.

The Countess snapped her fingers, then readjusted herself on the sofa, legs crossed under her. After a minute, Ninety-Six sighed, stumbled, and caught herself on the armrest of the chair. Her bloodshot eyes met the Countess’s.

“Did I resist?”

“Of course not. But it doesn’t matter. Since our deal has me stuck for the night, I’d like to put the time to good use.”

As expected, excitement lit up the woman’s eyes. Ninety-Six was always game for anything.

“I wish to see precisely how far a deeply entranced mind can be manipulated. I’ve rarely taken clients this far into obedience, and never one whose mind had softened as yours—”

“Yes,” said Ninety-Six immediately. “See how you can manipulate my mind.”

“There may be risks. Side effects. Permanent changes.” The Countess watched Ninety-Six purr her arousal. Alright. “If you agree, I’ll probe the depths of your obedience once you’re in trance. If you’d rather not, I’ll simply put you into trance and run out the clock until morning.”

“No! Test my obedience. We can do that every week—”

“No. Once is risky enough. But as you won’t forfeit and I’ve clearly had too much wine...well, here we are.” She snorted. “So, will you let me test what your deeply enthralled mind can do?”

“Yes. Of course. But if you’ll only—”

“This conversation is over.”

The woman’s voice faded off into a confused, brief mumble, then her mouth went slack and her features relaxed. Awareness left her eyes, which became fixed in the distance. The hand that had been holding onto the armchair fell limp at her side.

“Now, Ninety-Six,” murmured the Countess. “What shall I do with you?”

The Countess sipped her third glass of wine as she watched the woman lying on the sofa, nipples firm and dark pink, glistening beads of sweat trailing down the valley between her breasts and onto her soft abdomen.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t necessary to have a thrall naked to test her obedience. But she was stuck and wanted entertainment, and Ninety-Six possessed a lovely body.

The woman’s back arched and she gave a long moan. Her legs rose in the air as though to rest on the imaginary shoulders of a sex partner. One of her hands came to rest on her glistening pussy, rubbing.

“So, the imaginary sex partner is a success.” The Countess was trying to control her own lust. She was annoyed, sure, but she wasn’t made of stone. The sight of Ninety-Six in the throes of enthralled ecstasy was arousing.

“Oh, what the hell.” She put down the glass and snapped her fingers. “Ninety-Six. Back into your blank trance.”

The woman’s body went limp on the sofa, her face relaxing from intense pleasure into utter calm in seconds. It was as though a switch had flipped in her head. The Countess had never seen a thrall execute commands so fast.

She walked to the armchair and sat, untying the knot on her gown. “Please me. You know what to do. And look like you’re enjoying it,” she added, as Ninety-Six walked over blankly, dropping to her knees before the chair.

Immediately, a coy smile twisted the thrall’s lips, and her eyes began to glint. She purred as her hands went to the waist string of the Countess’s shorts, and her lips pressed against the Countess’s inner thigh, before her mouth sought a higher target and her tongue darted out.

She was very, very good.

“Go slow,” the Countess ground out, arching as the thrall’s tongue lapped at her. “And pay attention to more than just my pussy—I want my whole body alight.”

The woman moved toward her chest and began sucking on a nipple. One hand kneaded the other breast, while the other rubbed the Countess’s pussy. The Countess arched into her touches, moaning as they grew more urgent, tipping her over the edge into a climax. She cried out—then, as the thrall showed no signs of slowing, ground into the fingers rubbing her slick pussy until a second orgasm followed.

At last, she pushed the woman back to her knees and slumped into the armchair. Ninety-Six began obediently licking her pussy once more. The Countess shuddered, once, twice, then let out a tired chuckle.

“Enough. Back into blank trance.” She sighed as the thrall’s motions ceased, and she allowed herself a few minutes of satisfied dozing, eyes closed and her body sated.

When she opened her eyes again, she smiled at the entranced naked woman kneeling beside the armchair. She gripped the woman’s chin, turning her head to admire the mindless look.

“Do you know, in such deep trance, I might control your body’s deepest workings...” The Countess hummed. “When you meet my eyes, Ninety-Six, you will tear up. You will not feel sad, or joyful, or any emotion that would make you cry. But while I hold your gaze, your eyes will tear up. Now look at me.”

The thrall’s blank stare met hers. Almost immediately, large tears began trailing down the woman’s cheeks, as her wide, glassy eyes stared emptily into the Countess’s.

The Countess smiled. “Eyes closed now, Ninety-Six.”

The woman’s lids obediently fell shut. Immediately, her tears stopped and the trails on her cheeks began to dry.

“Fascinating.” The Countess stood, pulling her robe around her. “Sit and masturbate while I think of another test.”

While the thrall obeyed, the Countess tracked down a box full of dusty electronics and pulled out an old digital blood pressure cuff. Ordering the thrall to cease masturbating, she wrapped the cuff around one limp arm, fiddling with the display until the heart rate showed up. The recent orgasms had driven it up.

“As I count to ten, Ninety-Six, your heart will slow,” said the Countess. “Your breathing will slow. Your body will wind down, to my command. There is no way to stop it. You are entirely under my control. Ten. Breathe in. Your heart is slowing. Nine. Slower and slower. Eight...”

She squinted at the faded display, smiling as the heart rate began to drop.

“Seven. Winding down. Slow, slow breaths. Six. Five...”

The thrall’s eyelids had drooped to half-mast. Her chest barely move. Color had drained from her face, leaving her wan.

The Countess watched in fascination as the heart rate went lower still. “Two. One. Marvelous, dear.”

She took the thrall’s free arm and shook it, producing no change in the heart rate. Pinching the woman’s nipple had the same lack of effect. Even teasing her pussy produced no blip. Ninety-Six truly had achieved the deepest trance the Countess had ever instilled in a thrall.

“When I count up, your heart will speed up, on my command. One. Beating faster now. Breaths coming in quicker. Two. Faster and faster. Three…”

A rosy flush filled the thrall’s cheeks, though her body remained still and her face slack. Even as her heart rate soared and her breaths came in the short pants of a rabbit fleeing a wolf, she stayed limp in the armchair, head tipped back, gaze fixed blankly into space. The Countess nearly clapped. She’d never seen such flawless responses.

She returned Ninety-Six to a relaxed state and tossed the cuff aside.

“I had no idea how far an utterly pliant mind would bend. Too bad I can’t risk making you into a permanent thrall...But perhaps there’s another possibility. Stand, Ninety-Six.”

The woman flowed to her feet, arms limp at her sides.

“When you wake, you’ll leave and abide by our deal. But you will become deeply interested in enthralling others to your will. You’ll research ways to grow your skills, and you will be successful. You will find great pleasure in ruling docile minds...” The Countess trailed a nail down the thrall’s temple. “And when you’ve brought ten thralls under your full control, you will seek me out and tell me what you’ve done.”

She touched the thrall’s slack lips and hummed. She’d always enjoyed playing with others’ minds, but this opened up entirely new venues. How...thrilling.

“Pick up the watch you dropped,” she ordered, and the woman dropped to her knees, groped dazedly for the wristwatch, then rose again. The Countess took it from her unresisting grip.

“Mmm. Barely three a.m. and nearly four more hours to go of this little experiment. Let’s see, Ninety-Six, just how much further your mind and body will twist under my command...”