The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Every day, you wake up with the same thought: resist.

You’re not sure what you resist. Thoughts? Instincts? Armageddon?

But your job, regardless, is to resist.

You are very good at your job.

You are very good at pushing back.

And you like pushing back.

And your job is very important.

Your job is to resist.

And maybe that’s why I always seem so bad at my job; because I know how good you are at yours. Because I know that a little thing like me can never really hope to sneak her way into your fortified mind. No. I couldn’t possibly break through all those barriers you’ve set up. [But I admit I daydream about what I would do...]

But you are so good at your job, I know that you won’t even be the least bit affected by these words. I couldn’t possibly intoxicate you with a few sentences written from a few miles away, could I? No. Not a tiny little thing like me.

I know that it’s impossible for me to plant thoughts inside your brain. To force you to think about what I want you to think about. To force you to think thoughts that might make it hard to do your job.

No.

I have no idea how to do that.

And I am absolutely positive that there is no way that your pulse is starting to quicken a little bit, even though while I sit here [a bit wet, a bit wiggly], mine sure is. My skin is starting to flush pink. I’m starting to think about how good it would feel to make myself cum [for you, with you, on you] right now. But I know you aren’t starting to experience that same, excited tingle. [Are you?] I couldn’t possibly have the power to do that to you. To do that to your body.

So. You should breathe a BIG sigh of relief. You can be confident that I, just like all the others who have tried to break you before, am [almost] certain to fail. It would take someone so much stronger, and smarter, and hypnotic than me to break you. Someone who knew you so much better, and was so much better at making you lose focus.

And that’s why you should definitely relax; I couldn’t possibly be that strong, and that smart, and that hypnotic. I couldn’t possibly know you that well.

And while I am sure that you haven’t slipped off to find some private time in order to keep reading this, I’ve already had to stop writing [twice] to get a better grip on myself. [I always thought I was good at that, at the gripping. And stroking. At moving my hands up and down, and squeezing and releasing and squeezing. Again and again.]

And certainly, right now you’re not thinking about how it would feel to be surrounded by my voice and immersed in my world of throbbing images. About what would happen if you were tied up, with your VR on, and my voice in your ears, and my videos on loop, and my body next to yours, and my hands wrapped around your cock. No. Those are surely the furthest thoughts from your mind right now.

And since you are so good at resisting, I am also very sure that your cock hasn’t already started to grow a bit [or maybe more than a bit] for me. There is no way it’s starting to throb, or ache, or feel increasingly tight in your jeans. That need [for me] can’t possibly be emerging. I couldn’t be able to do that to your body. I couldn’t be in that much control. No. Not a silly little plaything like me.

And it’s so very, very good that you can resist, you know? The boys who can’t aren’t any fun. They grow so boring, so fast. They end up unable to think about anything but my soft, smooth, pale skin. My thigh gap and my long, long legs. The way my tits fit perfectly in their hand. My incredibly wet pussy. No. They end up getting consumed with my whispers rattling around in their brains. With fantasies of me tightening their straps. Of me, pinning them to the bed, spreading their legs, gripping their cock, and taking them as my own.

And then? Then they can’t think of anything but me making them beg [panting, aching, needing] to release them. They remember that I am the only one who has ever given it to them [really given it to them, again and again, over and over]. And they know that I am the only one who ever can.

They get lost in thinking about how the best orgasms of their lives [the most mind-shattering explosions, the ones that left them simultaneously exhausted and aching for more] were the result of my touches. My words. My design.

They get lost thinking about the last time they came for me [god it was so hard, wasn’t it?], and dreaming about the next time they will [even harder].

But I know you aren’t like that. You don’t think about how much you love [and fear but really want and need and must have] the sensation of being so totally out of your own control and so totally under mine.

Your ears have never eagerly thirsted for the sound of heel clicks announcing my arrival. Your body has never trembled in anticipation of my arrival, of my getting closer and closer, and of when I will finally touch you. And surely the sensation of my voice, combined with my tight body pressed next to yours, combined with my slow, perfect strokes, those could never so completely overwhelm you that you explode so hard and so much for me that you can barely speak or breathe or think.

No. That’s not you.

A cute, sexy, plaything like me could never command that sort of power over you.

And that’s why you should just let all that tension go from your shoulders and your jaw and your lower back. [I could even sing you a little song, if you’d like.] You should just take a big, deep, long breath. Inhale 2, 3, 4 and exhale 2, 3, 4. Relax. Good. Very good. Again. Good. Yes.

You’re safe. There’s no chance that your balls have already started to grow a little bit heavier and fuller for me. Or that you’re starting to get so wound up that your cock has started throbbing [harder], me working my way so deeply into every corner of your mind that you’d might have to go somewhere private to stroke yourself off for me.

But.

You know.

Even though you are so good at resisting, and always work so ceaselessly and successfully at it...I’m sure it must get so hard to do. Especially when you are doing it all the time. Exhausting, I’m sure. So even though we both know [hmm-hmm] who is really in control here, I want to let you know that if you are ever tired, if you are tired of resisting, and pushing, and you just want a release, even for a moment...well, I wouldn’t tell.

But what am I saying? Nonsense! I am being such a silly girl in imagining that I could ever be better at my job than you are at yours. You’re too smart and clever and quick for me to outwit. I could never plant thoughts or images or mantras into your mind that will live there forever. Or create eager thoughts [always aching for a moment of your attention] that are so powerful they become impossible to resist if you linger in them too long.

No, you could never become hypnotized by my little hypnotic mantras, could you? They won’t drive you into that place of primal, instinctual action where the only thing in the world, the only thought in your mind, is the feeling of my slippery hands moving up and down your cock, again and again, over and over, again and again. [Hmmm. I like thinking about that. A lot. I do think about that. A lot.]

Or where you only live in the world of immediate sensation. The sensation of me cupping your balls in my hands and gently, gently squeezing and tugging them to get them a bit fuller [more] for me, even when you don’t think it’s possible [it is].

Could I ever take you to that place where all you can do is listen to my voice?

Listen to me tell you to get harder and bigger and longer.

And obey my commands.

Obey, and scream my name as you’re cumming for me.

Hmm. How I would LOVE to find that special place inside you. That place where you know, know with every single part of your brain, body and soul, that I own your cock. [I do. Then. Now. Always.]

Hmm. Show you how all of your practice resisting has simply served to make my mantras and my images and my ideas get a bit stronger of a hold on you. Remind you that every time you cum for me I own a bit more of you.

Oh no!

I’ve gone and completely wasted another good opportunity. I’ve spent so much time applauding you for all the ways you are so very, very, very good at your job, and I should’ve really have been trying to do my job instead.

Sigh.

And now I don’t have any time left to describe to you [stroke by stroke, fuck by fuck, whisper by whisper] exactly what we will do when we get the chance.

But it’s not like it would’ve really mattered anyway, right?

I can’t really control your thoughts!

No.

I don’t know how to do things like that.

I can’t put a spell on you.