The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I got back into my apartment at 1:30 a.m., collapsing into my reclining chair in front of my large-screen tv in exhaustion. I was due back at the office for another meeting in less than six hours.

Over its four-year existence, my small software startup had grown into a company employing forty people. An infusion of venture capital two years ago had allowed us to become a leader in online marketing technology, and we were poised for an initial public offering within the next four months.

The initial terror of sinking my life savings (such as they were) and leveraging myself to the hilt on an untested venture had already paid off—I had become one of those “Silicon Valley millionaires” everyone hears about, though I wasn’t based in the Silicon Valley—but I was about to become far, far wealthier. And I’d still retain a majority share in my company.

I flicked through the channels with the tv on mute while I listened to my voicemail messages. There were twenty-three of them, mostly business-related—an average day—but I didn’t find that out until the next day, because number fourteen stopped me cold.

“Hi, Scott?” a strangely familiar female voice said, tentatively. My mind shifted idly through the corporate contacts I had spoken with over the last few weeks. One of the lawyers? Another investment bank analyst? It didn’t even occur to me that it might be a social contact, because I hadn’t had any of those for months. Too busy to go out.

“This is Rebecca. Rebecca Samson.”

Oh my god. Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod.

I must have gone pale; for the first time in my life I could literally feel the blood draining from my face as the voice went on. I jolted forward in my chair and started hyperventilating, elbows on my knees, as the voice went on. I had to replay the message.

“Been a long time, hasn’t it?” she said, with a nervous laugh. “At least six years. Well, anyway, you’re probably wondering why I called.”

Well, yeah, I thought dizzily.

“Well, I was reading through the last class notes, and I saw the announcement about your company. I’ve been sort of thinking about you since then, and as it happens, I’ll be in your city in a couple of weeks, and I thought it might be nice to get together. Let me know if you want to . . .” She left her number, which I hastily entered into my Palm Pilot. It took several tries, because my hand was trembling so much.

Rebecca and I had dated in college, and for a while after we had tried to maintain a long-distance relationship. I met her when she was on her second date with my friend Alex. Whoa, I thought when I shook her hand.

You know how you carry around in your head a sort of template of what your ideal woman would be like? What she’d look like, how she’d smile, what kind of things she’d like . . . what it would be like to kiss her? And how you compare every woman you meet with that mental template, to see how closely she matched your inner ideal?

Well, Rebecca matched mine exactly. A cute, elfin face with brown eyes, dark curly hair, around five foot two, compact gymnast’s body but large, firm breasts . One night, after we had started dating seriously—in other words, after we’d started having sex—she launched into a complicated explanation of how she was a C cup if she wore a size 36 bra but a D cup if she wore a size 34, that she had to buy two bikinis every time she wanted one (one for the bikini bottom, another, larger one for the top) and how she had had to stop gymnastics because of her, um, development. Her explanation ended in soft gasps as I started to explore the subjects that had prompted my initial, casual question about size. We matched perfectly, and I was ragingly jealous of Alex within minutes.

I’ve got a stubborn streak of “honor”, or something, because I won’t move in on the girlfriend of a friend. I tend to believe that friendships last a lot longer than relationships, so I wouldn’t sacrifice the former for the latter. Still, it was excruciating to me when Alex spoke about her. They had fooled around some, though they hadn’t gotten very far by college standards, and his description of her taut body matched my image of it enough to provoke physical pain as he laughingly described it.

As it happens, Rebecca was far from Alex’s “inner template”—though, since she matched mine so perfectly, I couldn’t for the life of me imagine how that could be. They drifted apart after a month or so. We started dating soon after that, after an incident that I’ll get into later, and for two and a half years our physical relationship was like something out of a fantasy magazine, and our emotional relationship was filled with passion, whether we were fighting or back together.

It ended because of fear. My fear. Rebecca lived on the west coast. When graduation came around, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, while she knew exactly what she wanted to do with hers. She was going to get her Ph.D. and become a political consultant. Unfortunately, she was going to get her Ph.D. at a school on the West Coast, near her family. I was rooted on the East Coast, and I didn’t like the idea of moving out there and knowing no one but her. I didn’t like the kind of dependence I would feel. I like being in control.

Not a good reason, I know. It’s one of my eternal regrets. I didn’t even have a good reason to stay in the east, just inertia. Well, maybe also the suspicion that Rebecca had stayed with me because I seemed to have good prospects and was a trustworthy guy, rather than because of an attraction to me. It’s an insecurity of mine; I didn’t come from a close family, so I could never rid myself of the suspicion that she might marry me for money and that it wouldn’t work out, or that she would not stay faithful to me. So she moved, I stayed, and eventually our relationship ended because I couldn’t get off the dime.

And I hadn’t spoken with her in years, though I had thought about her every day since. Every day. Rather obsessive of me. Okay, very obsessive of me; like my control fetish, it can be a strength in the business world when you’re driving a company forward, and a weakness in one’s personal life.

And now she was calling me.

I didn’t call her back for days. Lack of courage, coupled with a desire to not appear to leap at her beck and call. But, eventually, I did.

It was a short conversation, and a very pleasant one. We talked about what had been going on in our lives, how our family and friends were, and generally danced around the charged issue of our failed relationship. She was going to be in town the weekend after this coming one. We made a date to meet at a nice restaurant I took clients to.

By the time I hung up the phone I was perspiring profusely. My chest felt like there was a tight band around it, and my heart was racing. I went into the kitchenette near my office and washed my face before going back into the conference room for yet another interminable conference call.

I had made the decision without even acknowledging it. I had lived too long with the regret of failing to take a risk to tolerate another one. This was going to be a huge chance, and I had to take it.

The event that really prompted me to ask Rebecca out in college was a psychology survey course we had taken together. I tended to sit near the front of the class, and there were about eighty students in it, so I hadn’t known that Rebecca was in it until after I met her through Alex.

The professor was a good one, and wasn’t above cracking jokes and being a showman to keep people interested in the class. One day he demonstrated hypnotic induction techniques; this was one of the classes that he intended to be entertainment that happened to be instructive, rather than the converse. He asked for a couple of volunteers—he took a guy and a rather plain-looking girl—and asked everyone else to try following the induction from their seats.

He dimmed the lights, and conducted a standard induction. The guy volunteer went under, but the girl did not. The professor checked the audience to see if anyone had gone under. I craned my head around to see. Several students toward the back of the class were waving their hands and pointing silently at someone.

It was Rebecca, sitting slumped over in her seat, eyes closed, perfectly relaxed

The professor gestured to people to keep quiet, walking up the aisle to Rebecca’s seat. She was left-handed, so she was sitting in one of the seats with a left-handed desk on the aisle.

The professor rested his hand lightly on her head.

“Now, just the person that I am touching on the head, just the one I’m touching, you feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper, becoming more and more relaxed. Happy and relaxed. Feel yourself sinking deeper. Now, when I count to five, you will stay completely relaxed. completely and deeply relaxed, but you will open your eyes, walk to the front of the class, and sit down in the empty chair you will see facing the class. When you sit down, you will close your eyes, and immediately you will feel yourself sink down into an even deeper state of relaxation; you will be ten times as deep and relaxed as before. You will concentrate only on the sound of my voice.”

He repeated his instructions a couple of times, soothingly, then said “Do you understand? Nod your head.” Rebecca nodded her head. “Good,” he said. “Onetwothreefourfive.”

Rebecca’s eyes opened. She stood up, swayed around her desk, and walked slowly down the aisle to the chair in the front of the class.

She was dressed in that most innocently seductive of college uniforms, tight jeans and a white t-shirt. Her firm buttocks and beautiful breasts were entirely apparent as she walked to the seat, completely unaware of the other students.

“Holy shit,” I heard one of the guys near me whisper as she passed by, her large firm breasts jiggling slightly with each step down, the white lace of her bra just visible through her t-shirt. I agreed with him wholeheartedly. I also discovered that I had a rock-hard erection.

The rest of the class consisted of the professor running Rebecca and the guy through mundane hypnosis exercises—your arm is as stiff as a board, you can’t bend it, you see a cute little puppy on the stage, that sort of stuff. Rebecca, apparently, was an excellent hypnotic subject.

The professor, of course, was completely professional, studiously avoiding anything improper or suggestive about the demonstration. Nevertheless, I was completely fixated on Rebecca; I had never been so turned on in my life. The session is still burned into my memory.

The professor completed the demonstration, and in a gesture of showmanship instructed Rebecca and the guy that they would not remember being hypnotized, but instead would forever be convinced that they had watched two other students—he named them specifically—being hypnotized and participating in the demonstration. No one could ever convince Rebecca she had been up there; she steadfastly maintained that she had watched from the audience.

I asked Rebecca out the next day.

I realized that I had a full-blown control fetish, or hypnosis fetish, whatever you want to call it. Practically every time I looked at Rebecca, I remembered that class, and became instantly, incredibly aroused. At the same time, I was a little embarrassed about this discovery about myself. I could never bring myself to talk about it with her, though I feverishly studied every book I could get my hands on about the subject. I even sent away for professional videotapes on training in hypnosis. But I never got up the courage to try any of it.

Well, except for one time.

Rebecca was asleep in my dorm room my senior year. I had awakened in the middle of the night, and I was lying next to her, idly thinking about how to broach the subject of hypnosis with her.

Then I realized I didn’t have to. At least, not overtly. I decided to take a chance on a technique I had read about a while ago.

I carefully matched my breathing to hers, inhaling when she inhaled, exhaling when she exhaled, feeling her soft breast pressed against my chest. I did this for a few minutes, staying locked in her rhythm.

Then I started to gradually sped up the pace of my breathing.

Rebecca’s breathing sped up to match mine.

Then I slowed down my rate of breathing, so that it was slower than before I had sped up.

Rebecca’s breathing slowed down to match mine.

This was working, I realized. I returned to simply matching her breaths. That was difficult. I was having trouble keeping from panting from arousal.

“Sleep well, Rebecca,” I murmured softly into her ear, on an exhale. She stirred softly, then was still.

I waited a few minutes, matching her breathing, then whispered “sleep well, Rebecca,” again on an exhale. She moved only a little this time. I did this a few more times; she didn’t move or stir again. She had grown used to my speaking, and her unconscious mind saw no need to react to my voice.

After a while, I switched to saying “Sleep deeply, Rebecca.”

Then, “Deeper and deeper, Rebecca.”

Then I shifted into a low-voiced induction, still speaking only when she exhaled.

“Rebecca, I’m going to count from 10 to 1...as I count from 10 to 1 . . . you’ll feel yourself going deeper . . . deeper and deeper . . . becoming more and more relaxed . . . relaxed and comfortable . . . with every number, going deeper . . . feel yourself sinking down . . . nothing will disturb you . . . deeper and deeper with every number . . . 10 . . . deeper and deeper . . . 9 . . . feeling yourself sinking down . . . " and so on.

I was so nervous about being caught that I ran through two more full inductions. Finally, there was nothing more to say. All or nothing. It either worked or it hadn’t.

“Rebecca, you feel your thoughts drifting towards making love. How wonderful it feels when we make love. The kinds of things you think about when you feel aroused, feel hot and wet and excited. And as you think about the images that run through your mind, the things you think when you feel horny and wet and excited and aroused, the images you have, the thoughts and feelings, become sharper and brighter and more vivid. And as those images, those feelings, become more vivid, more intense, the arousal you feel becomes twice as intense, three times as intense, more and more overpowering. You’ve never felt this aroused before, even as you feel so relaxed and comfortable.”

“And as you start to wonder why you feel so aroused, so hot, so horny, you suddenly think about taking me into your mouth. The way it feels when you suck my cock, when you stroke my penis. As you become more obsessed with the thought of sucking my cock, feeling me in your mouth, you find yourself becoming more and more aroused. You’ve never felt this horny before, this excited. As you become more obsessed with the image of sucking my cock, of the way it looks and feels as you suck and stroke it, of the way you feel so hot and horny and turned on as you do that, you feel waves of pleasure cascading through your body, becoming more and more intense. You can barely contain how hot and horny you feel.”

Rebecca was breathing harder now; her eyes were closed, but I could see them moving rapidly under the lids; she was seeing a cascade of images, I realized. Her body was twitching slightly, her pelvis pressing against my leg.

I decided that I had better slow things down; I didn’t want her to wake up while I was whispering to her.

“And as these images go deeper and deeper into your mind, of my cock, mine alone, you feel yourself overwhelmed by the urge to suck me, to lick me, to give me the best blow job you’ve ever given anyone. Even as you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper asleep, this urge cascades over you. You dream about it, as you fall into a deep restful sleep; and when you wake up, you will be so hot, so horny, you have to act on those wonderful urges. I will count to five, and you will fall into a deep restful sleep. But when you wake up in the morning, you will be overwhelmed by the urge to act on those wonderful thoughts and images. Onetwothreefourfive.”

Rebecca’s breathing slowed, though her eye movements continued. Even though I was completely excited, I fell asleep eventually.

I woke up with the dawn light shining through the blinds, falling across the bed. Rebecca was no longer beside me.

Suddenly I felt what had awakened me.

There was a warm, full set of lips wrapped around my cock; a hot, agile tongue delicately danced around the tip as the moist lips moved gently up and down my shaft, tenderly sucking.

I looked down to see Rebecca on all fours on the lower half of the bed, eyes closed, face rapt with concentration.

Now, Rebecca had always been competent at fellatio. But she was also pretty sexually demanding, so she’d usually go down on me only long enough to get me aroused for a second or third session. She did it, but more as a means to an end rather than for personal satisfaction.

At least, that was the way she usually was.

Now I gazed down at her glorious body, her brown curly hair draped across the side of my stomach as she pumped me with one hand while caressing my balls with the other. I could feel her big tits resting on my thighs, and the shadows of the blinds across her created a sort of contour map of her body. Her butt was high in the air, swelling out gloriously from her tiny waist and narrow back.

She realized I was awake; her eyes opened and locked on mine in a cat-like gaze. She continued sucking for a few seconds before she took her mouth off me.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” she smiled, slowly stroking me with one hand still.

“Well, at least part of me’s already up,” I gasped in an attempt at a a joke. “Do you want to come up?”

For the first time ever, she refused that offer.

“Oh, no,” she whispered, teasingly tapping the tip of my penis on her chin and lips, her tongue darting out for an occasional, electric lick, “I’m quite busy here.” Her mouth engulfed me again, and I barely was able to hold on for two more minutes before I lost control.

She’s never swallowed before, either, I thought dimly.

She climbed on top of me. Within five minutes I had entered her, and she was riding me with aching slowness in her favorite position.

Except this time, when I was about to come again, she practically scrambled off me and started sucking me furiously again; I came in an instant, for what seemed like an hour.

Afterwards, as I held her against me, I said “Wow. That was new. What happened?”

She shook her head, clearly puzzled, though amused at herself.

“I . . . don’t know,” she said. “I just woke up and . . . god . . . I had to have you in my mouth. It was more than I could bear. I had to.”

She raised herself up on her elbows and looked at me.

“In fact,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve had enough yet.” She kissed her way down past my stomach again.

“Oh, no,” I groaned, but in ecstasy.

That was a few weeks before graduation. I didn’t get the chance to try to replicate that experience, and I was kicking myself for not installing any post-hypnotic triggers.

On the plus side, Rebecca kept getting better and better at oral sex; she developed almost a preference for it. Unfortunately, the summer after graduation our emotional relationship took a nosedive, as it became clear that I was not willing to uproot myself for her, and she was equally adamant about wanting to be out on the west coast for her graduate work, even though there were schools every bit the equal of hers in my city. So she moved at the end of the summer.

Things didn’t die instantly; I visited her a few times, and she me, but we started arguing more and more on the phone. I was sort of drifting the year after college, not knowing what I wanted to do, and I started suspecting that that was factoring more and more into her willingness about whether to stick with me. Finally, we just hung up on each other that last phone call. Apparently neither one of us was willing to call the other back.

And now she had blinked. Maybe I was making too much of this—maybe she hadn’t thought about me at all in the meantime. But, quite frankly, she had been uppermost in my mind when I placed the notice my company and the impending IPO in our class announcements in the alumni newsletter. And sure enough, here she was, calling me. You can forgive me for being a bit cynical.

I waited for her in the square, watching the mixed student and yuppie crowds walk by. I looked good, and I knew it. I was wearing my “big investor” outfit—the conservative dark Abboud suit, closely tailored, with a long black Armani trenchcoat cut wide in the shoulders. It billowed dramatically in the evening breeze.

One thing I had not sacrificed for my business was my physical health. I worked out six days a week, mixing weight workouts with cardiovascular exercise. Even though I consider myself average-looking, in college I was in better physical shape than most every other male student. I was in better condition now than I had been in college, even as I watched people my age—still in their twenties—sag.

A taxi pulled up, and there she was.

Damn. She looked better too.

She was wearing a red suit, and looked very professional, contrasting sharply with my memory of her casual college look. I pitied any male who tried to reject her pitch for business; his brain would be so flooded with hormones after seeing her that he would have signed his life away. I was sure she was doing well in her consulting business.

“Hi, Rebecca,” I smiled, leaning forward for a formal hug. Damn, same perfume.

I had worn the same cologne I had in college too.

“Hi, Scott,” she said, smiling back. “My gosh, you look exactly the same as you did in school.”

“Flatterer,” I rejoined. “Besides, you look even better.” She laughed, and we stood looking at each other. I had the brief mental image of two samurai warriors facing each other with swords drawn, sharply incongruent with a friendly meeting between old friends.

“The place is right around the corner,” I said finally. “Shall we?”

We walked slowly, in step, and all the old feelings flooded back. I studiously avoided looking at the swell of her magnificent breasts, the soft skin exposed above the just-short-of-low-cut suit. Then I found myself just as studiously trying to look as if I were not avoiding looking at the swell of her magnificent breasts, because that would look unnatural.

Damn, she’s got me off-balance just by showing up, I thought.

We got to the restaurant; the maitre ‘d greeted me warmly and seated us in a secluded corner. I ordered wine, and the conversation continued.

That’s when I put my plan into effect, one I had meticulously organized for a week and a half, but which was based on more than eight years of obsessive training.

As I studied hypnosis after that fateful psychiatry class, I realized I did have a full-blown fetish, because my interest in it never flagged. I read every sales book in the store, I read about brainwashing techniques, I got basic, and then advanced, training in Neuro-Linguistic Programming, I went to stage hypnotists shows repeatedly. I was a sponge, soaking up everything I could about the subject. I experimented with a lot of techniques, discarding ones that didn’t work (a couple of which got me slapped, to my chagrin), and further refining ones that did.

The beauty of the techniques that I developed was that they didn’t rely on domination, intimidation or drugs (yuck), and they didn’t just work on idiots. In fact, the smarter the woman, the better they worked. Which was fortunate, because I have no patience for dumb women. What really turned me on was that they were a mixture of persuasion, cunning, and sheer intellectual guile. They worked on women’s subconscious minds, and they worked in all types of social situations. Some guys have developed similar systems, and some of them pretty good; they even resembled the initial stages of my system. But mine was incredibly reliable.

I had never pushed it as far as I intended to tonight, though.

I started by laying the groundwork.

“You know, Rebecca,” I said casually, as we were discussing the past, “what I found incredibly fascinating about you was your ability to concentrate absolutely; I remember watching you in class, listening to the lecturer, and thinking to you in my own mind, ‘Wow, I can see how you do so well in school. You’re sitting there, and you focus completely on what this man is saying, you just soak up every word and fix it in your mind, almost unconsciously. I mean, you barely take notes, you just sit there and drink in every word he’s saying. It would be impossible for anything to distract you, you’re just riveted.’ And that’s what really made me feel this immense attraction,” I continued, “knowing that you had a really powerful mind, and that you could just go deeply inside yourself and focus your thoughts completely, on an idea, on a concept, on a feeling.”

I was matching her breathing the whole time, looking deeply into her eyes. I saw her pupils dilate as I spoke quietly, and felt her breathing slow down.

Perfect. I paused for a moment, and let the conversation take its course, slipping in the occasional “embedded command” as they’re called, for her to concentrate more and more on what I was saying. Soon we were discussing business, and how difficult it sometimes was to sell your services to someone.

“I think it really comes down to whether you can trust completely,” I said. “Have you ever met a person and known, really known, wow, this is a guy I can really trust? It’s just like you feel deep down inside you that this person could know everything about you, and it would be okay. And as you think about the way that feels, as you remember how powerful that feeling is, it just comes right back to you, doesn’t it? And it’s on that basis that most people say to themselves ‘I can really trust this person.’ And coupled with that, of course, is the matching feeling that you really want this person to like you, too; it’s like it’s becoming very important to you that this person likes you. The more you spend time with this person, the more important that becomes.”

She was nodding in agreement.

And on motivation:

“I think it really depends on desire, on having a vision, and keeping that vision right in front of you. Have you ever really wanted something, I mean felt like you’re really longing for something, to the point where that powerful desire, that overwhelming urge, just overwhelms you? And as you really think about that feeling of longing, and desire, it just keeps growing and growing, to the point where you absolutely have to act on it? Can you feel that,” and I touched her arm lightly, “would be an incredible way to stay focused, to pursue your growing desire?”

She was leaning forward now, concentrating completely, breathing heavily, her dinner forgotten. Now was the time. I started to speak rapidly, the volume of my voice beginning to drop, so she had to strain to listen to me.

“Of course, just as important as being able to concentrate completely, to stay completely focused, is the ability to relax completely. If you don’t, you’ll just burn yourself out. You’ve got to be able to just let your mind and body relax, and breath deep breaths of relaxation, in and out. Have you ever gotten into a warm, peaceful hot tub after working out,” knowing full well she had, “letting yourself sink deeply into it, feeling the warmth and relaxation seeping into your bones, so it’s like you can feel yourself getting more and more relaxed, sleepier and sleepier, as all your muscles loosen?”

I was now doing almost pure inductions, and I spoke rapidly and softly, soothing her mind. I shifted into a rapid induction pattern.

Rebecca was having difficulty keeping her eyelids open. Her head started nodding forward.

Not coincidentally, my cock was completely rigid.

I had told the waiter not to approach our table unless I signaled for him. My concentration was total as I observed Rebecca’s reactions and adjusted my delivery appropriately. I continued my induction, pitching it perfectly to her “strategy” for complete relaxation (an auditory image, followed by a kinesthetic image, followed by another kinesthetic image), my heart beating faster and faster as her eyelids fluttered closed.

I put her deeper for the next ten minutes. I was playing her inner imagery like a symphony conductor now. Finally, I judged I had gone far enough. Time to install a few lasting commands.

“Rebecca,” I said quietly, “you feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into a more relaxed and comfortable state with every breath. And as you realize that you’ve never been so relaxed, so comfortable in your life, you may be surprised that you become even more relaxed, more comfortable, more attentive to my voice with each breath. And forever after now, whenever I touch your right earlobe, like this, or say the phrase ‘sleep deeply, Rebecca,’ you will feel yourself enter a state of relaxation and comfort even more deep than now. No conscious thought will interfere with this process as you let it happen automatically. Your eyes will close, your whole body will become heavy, and you’ll immediately enter an even more complete state of relaxation and attentiveness than you’re in now. Do you understand? Nod your head.”

Rebecca’s head nodded.

“Good. Rebecca, I’m going to count to five. When I reach five, you will immediately become wide awake, with no memory of having gone into this wonderful state of relaxation, and you will not remember my having given you any instructions. They are washed out of your conscious mind, but nevertheless, you will obey them. So when I touch your right earlobe, like this, or say the phrase ‘sleep deeply, Rebecca,’ you will immediately sink into an even more complete state of relaxation and attentiveness than you’re in now. Each time you enter this state, you will go deeper than before. Do you understand? Nod your head.”

Rebecca’s head nodded.

“Good. Onetwothreefourfive.” Rebecca’s eyes flew open and I continued speaking as if we’d been in the middle of a conversation. “...so the only time I’ve been able to get away for a vacation was that one week in Colorado last year.” I paused as she blinked rapidly in confusion. “I’m sorry, I must be boring you.”

“No! No, I just must be tired from the flight,” she said, trying to reorient herself.

“Well, you don’t look as if you’ve been traveling,” I said. “Say, those are beautiful earrings. May I . . .” I reached forward with my left hand and touched her right earlobe gently. She jerked slightly at the contact.

Then her eyes practically slammed shut.

I smiled.

“Very good, Rebecca. Now listen very carefully as you feel yourself sinking deeper. When you’re awake, I may touch my nose when I’m speaking to you. While I’m touching my nose, something strange will happen to your mind: you will not consciously hear or understand what I say to you, but you will believe whatever I say, and do whatever I tell you, and you will be convinced that whatever it is I say to you was your idea, your desire. You will be helpless to resist; you will be completely overpowered by the urge to do whatever I say while I am touching my nose, and you will be absolutely convinced of whatever I tell you while I am touching my nose. You will not realize that I am saying anything to you, but you will accept whatever I say completely and utterly. Do you understand? Nod your head.”

Rebecca nodded her head.

“Good. One last instruction: Whenever I touch you anywhere but your right earlobe, ripples of pure pleasure will emanate from that point through your whole body. It will be like nothing you’ve ever felt before; waves of ecstasy cascading through your whole body, but most intense at the point where I’m touching you. The longer I touch you, the more intense that feeling will become, and every time I touch you, the feelings will be more intense. Do you understand? Nod your head.”

Rebecca nodded her head.

“Good. Again, you will never consciously remember being in this wonderful state of relaxation, nor that I have said anything to you, but your unconscious mind will obey my instructions completely. You awaken completely at the count of five. Onetwothreefourfive.”

Rebecca’s eyes snapped open.

“. . . got a big day tomorrow,” I continued. “Are you going to be in town long?”

Rebecca shook herself a little.

“Um, yes,” she said. “I’ve got a conference to go to on Monday, so I’ll be staying through Wednesday.”

“Good,” I smiled. I reached forward and rested my hand on her forearm. She inhaled sharply, but didn’t move at all. “I’m really glad you called, Rebecca. It’s been too long. What prompted you to do it?” Her breathing had grown more rapid. I removed my hand from her arm.

“Well, like I said, the past was the past,” she said, “and I missed speaking with you. We had fun.”

I nodded, then placed my forefinger on my nose.

“Now tell me the absolute truth.”

“Well, actually, I saw how well your business was doing, and I figured that maybe you were going to be a lot richer than I thought. So I figured, why not get in on the ground floor? The sex was okay, and I knew I’d be able to convince you not to have a prenup.”

A look of horror crossed her face, and her hands flew up to cover her mouth. I touched my nose again.

“Forget that you told me the true reason for calling me,” I said. She relaxed immediately.

Well, the gloves are off, I thought.

Still keeping my finger on my nose, I said, “You feel yourself suddenly getting horny, really excited. The feeling comes out of nowhere and spreads over your entire body, becoming more and more intense. Soon you’ll feel an overwhelming urge to masturbate. You’ll excuse yourself, go into the bathroom, trembling with arousal, and masturbate. But a curious thing will happen. You’ll become more and more excited, get closer and closer to coming, and you know it will be more intense than you’ve ever come before, but you won’t be able to push yourself over the edge. Then an image of me will enter your mind; immediately you’ll get much closer to coming. The more you concentrate on that mental image of me, the more you think about me, about how attracted you are to me, the closer you will get to coming. But still you won’t be able to come. Then, suddenly, you’ll realize something: you are overwhelmed by the desire to do anything I want, to obey me completely. And when you have that realization, when you concentrate completely on the thought of obeying me absolutely, you immediately will come harder than you’ve ever come before, and it will seem to go on and on, as images of me, and the overwhelming desire to obey me, cascade through your mind.”

I took my finger off my nose.

We made small talk for a few minutes; Rebecca seemed distracted, shifting in her seat at a few times.

Finally she interrupted.

“Scott, I must have drunk a little too much wine. I’ll be right back.”

I nodded and stood as she did, watching her almost run to the ladies room and lock the door.

I sat down and sipped my wine. She seemed to be taking quite a long time.

Ten minutes passed. A muffled cry came from the restroom.

I smiled, raising my hand to the waiter.

“Check, please.”

Rebecca emerged from the restroom a few minutes later. She looked flustered and disheveled as she walked back to the table. I stood as she took her seat, then sat down again. She seemed to have trouble meeting my eyes.

Hypnosis is a funny thing, I thought. Rebecca had one of the strongest personalities I’d ever encountered. She was highly intelligent, she knew what she wanted, and she went after it almost ruthlessly. She had complete self-confidence, and she never hesitated to state her mind. She trusted no one completely, probably due to her parents’ divorce when she was young. And yet she was a fantastic hypnotic subject. Go figure.

“Well, it’s getting late,” I said, glancing at my Patek Philipe watch. “This was a lot of fun; I’m glad things are going so well for you.”

“Yes, I had fun too,” she practically mumbled.

“Well, feel free to give me a call whenever you want to get together. I can’t promise I’ll have time to get together, what with the IPO and all, but I always try to make room for old friends.”

I smiled.

“Rebecca?” I said. She looked up at me.

I touched my nose.

“When you go to bed tonight, when you wake up in the morning, and just after every meal this weekend, the same thing that just happened to you will happen again, only with even greater intensity. The more you concentrate on images and thoughts of me as you masturbate, the closer you will get to coming.. The more you concentrate on the thought of obeying me completely, the more intense and long your orgasms will be.”

I took my finger off my nose and stood, my hand brushing her elbow lightly as I helped her stand; she gasped, but didn’t pull away.

We walked out to the street. A college kid driving an Acura almost got into an accident when he caught sight of her and forgot how to drive. I hailed a cab, paying the cabbie $20 to take her back to her hotel. We faced each other and smiled.

I leaned forward for another formal hug. As my arms went around her and her heavy breasts pressed against my chest, she started shivering. She was reluctant to let go.

“Bye,” I said. “Take care.”

“You too,” she replied, almost scrambling into the cab, overwhelmed with confusion and embarrassment.

I watched as the cab pulled away into the night.

“Talk to you soon,” I whispered, grinning in delight.

My phone rang just as I came in from my afternoon bike ride on Saturday. I looked at the Caller ID, smiling as I recognized the number of the hotel switch. I picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Scott? It’s Rebecca again.”

“Oh, hi Rebecca. What’s going on?”

“Well, I realized that I’m free for dinner tonight, and I was wondering if you wanted to get together again.”

“Well, gee, I think I was going to get together with a couple of the guys tonight . . . oh, hell with it. What time are you free?”

“How about 7:00?”

“Great. How about I make you dinner at my place?”

“No!” she said sharply, sounding almost panicked. “Um, I’d like it to be my treat this time. Let’s go to a restaurant.”

Whoops, I thought. She really doesn’t want to be alone with me; her capital is sex, and she doesn’t want to just give it away.

Double whoops! She can’t see me putting my finger on my nose on the phone. I thought quickly.

“How is your hotel, by the way? Last night, did you sleep deeply, Rebecca.”

I waited. No answer. Just breathing.

“Rebecca, if you can hear me, say yes.”

A soft “yes” came back over the line.

“When you wake up, you’ll realize that you REALLY want to have dinner at my place, and you’ll agree to it. Awake on five. Onetwothreefourfive.”

“Aw, come on,” I said. “Let’s do it at my place.” Always going for the double entendre, that’s me.

“Okay!” she said. “That sounds good. But I’ll get it next time.”

“Of course you will,” I said. “Pick you up at seven.”

I pulled up to the hotel in my BMW M3. Not the most expensive car I could have bought, not the flashiest, but it was still the best balance of performance and luxury around. I got out and looked over the car roof into the lobby.

Whoa, I thought again.

Rebecca was dressed in a tight black, strapless evening dress, with elegant high-heeled shoes, carrying a small Chanel bag. A single silver herringbone necklace was draped like water around her delicate throat, emphasizing the distance to her plunging neckline and the magnificent cleavage displayed there. Silver earrings inlaid with diamonds and a matching bracelet completed the image.

I ignored the tortured stares of other men with dates looking daggers at Rebecca as I opened the passenger door for her.

“You just keep looking better,” I said, brushing her cheek with a kiss as she got in.

I leaped into the driver’s seat, then controlled my eagerness. I drove at a a comfortable pace, not showing off, as we chatted on the way to my townhouse.

“Very nice,” she said as we parked and went in the private elevator.

“Thanks. I’ll move out of the city eventually, but it’s okay for now.”

Dinner was excellent. That’s not bragging; I didn’t make it. I used a private service that prepares fresh gourmet meals; I just followed the final preparation directions they’d left me.

“You’re dressed so well, you sort of overwhelm everything around you,” I said at one point.

“Well, I thought you might like to go out to a club, afterwards, so I dressed accordingly,” she smiled. Oho, I thought; still trying to get out in public. Not so fast.

I touched my nose.

“Rebecca, we are going to go sit on the couch in a few minutes. Between now and then, you feel yourself becoming more and more aroused, more excited, hornier and hornier. All those thoughts and images you’ve been having of me will cascade through your mind again, more and more insistently. You’ll become frustrated with me, because I will seem completely oblivious to your growing arousal. You become intent on seducing me, and desperately try to think of a way to do it.”

“After a few minutes I’ll change the CD to some club dance music. That’s when it will occur to you in a flash: You must strip for me. That’s the only way you’ll be able to express your arousal, your desire. You’ll become the most erotic striptease dancer you could ever imagine. You won’t take all your clothes off immediately. You will take three songs to take everything but your shoes and jewelry off. As you dance, you become overwhelmed with lust, with arousal, with desire. When you finish dancing after the third song, you feel compelled to act on those incredible feelings.”

I took my finger off my nose. Rebecca blinked in confusion.

After a few minutes I stood and we moved to the couch. We talked a while more. Rebecca became more and more distracted; her mind obviously wasn’t on the conversation.

Finally, I relented, picking up the remote to the CD player and pressing a button.

A heavy, rhythmic bass beat came from the speakers.

A flash of resolve came over Rebecca’s face. She set down her wine glass on the coffee table decisively and stood up in a surge, moving to stand in front of me.

“Going somewhere?” I asked.

“Shut up,” she breathed, bending forward, resting her hands on my knees and giving me a long, slow kiss. Then she stood up again, and started dancing.

At first she simply stood, swaying slightly to the music, eyes closed, head tilted back, her hands running lightly through her hair and tracing across her body. Then she started moving, slowly. Her eyes locked on mine, breaking contact only when she turned away from me to wiggle her butt. I tried to maintain eye contact, but finally gave up as I couldn’t resist gazing at her delicious, young body.

I was beginning to regret choosing really long songs. I didn’t know how I would be able to last.

Rebecca was more erotic dancing in her evening dress than any stripper I had ever seen in a club, in any state of undress. She was absolutely focused on me, judging exactly what was turning me on and doing more of it. She had obviously maintained the flexibility, balance and strength gymnastics had given her.

She went down on her knees in front of me, pushing her beautifully large breasts up gently, then crawling forward on her hands and knees like a cat, staring me in the eyes all the while. She brushed her breasts against my knees, then stood in front of me, her legs pressed against my inner thighs as she undulated in front of me.

The second song began. Rebecca reached behind herself and slowly unzipped her dress, then held it against her chest for a moment before letting it slip to the ground where it laid puddled around her feet.

Good god, I thought, there even bigger than I remembered. I reached up involuntarily, but she pushed away from me, going back into the center of the living room floor.

She was seduction in motion; I was as overwhelmed with lust as she was. She smiled coyly as she traced her hands up her stomach, lightly tweaking her nipples through her black bra, then pulling at her panties as if she couldn’t wait to take them off.

My cock was as hard as an iron bar, now, and laughably prominent. This seemed to turn her on even more, and she demonstrated her lap-dancing ability to the point where I almost came in my trousers.

The third song began just as Rebecca was sitting in my lap, brushing her breasts across my face.

She pulled back slightly, although she was still sitting on me and brushing herself against my straining cock. Her bra had a front clasp, and she bit her lip slightly as she gazed at me and unfastened it.

Her magnificent breasts freed themselves from their confinement as her bra fell to the floor. So that’s what 36 C breasts looked like up close; I remembered. Her aureoles were small, the size of silver dollars, her nipples erect and upward-pointing. She held my hands down from them, shimmying slightly so that her breasts shook inches in front of my nose. I licked her left nipple quickly; she gasped, smiled, and slid off of me, continuing her dance.

She unsnapped her black garter belt and slid her pantyhose down. A slight look of consternation crossed her face as she realized she’d have to take off her shoes to get them off, but I gestured to her that it was okay. She put her shoes back on quickly, then rid herself of the garter belt. Then she turned away from me, bent down and slowly slid her panties off, shifting from one foot to another so her butt wiggled from side to side.

I was standing now, unbuttoning my shirt with shaking fingers. Why was this song so damn LONG?

Now she was kneeling again, one hand between her legs, one caressing her big tits. I almost fell onto the sofa as I hopped on one foot, removing my trousers. She became even more aroused as I rid myself of my clothes, lightly stroking herself and moaning softly.

The third song ended. Finally.

Rebecca paused, staring at me, and then leaped to her feet, pushing me backwards onto the sofa. She pulled down my boxer-briefs, hungrily engulfing my cock with her mouth when it popped out. She went to work with abandon, moaning with desire.

“God,” she gasped during a brief pause, “god, I’ve never wanted to suck any man’s cock as much as I do yours.”

“Well don’t stop, then,” I gasped, and she went back to work.

I was right on the edge when I remembered why she had called me; she had been after my money, my success, not me.

“Stop,” I said, lifting her head. She looked up at me, puzzled, as her hand continued stroking me.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Well, you know what I’ve always wanted?” I said. “I’ve always wanted to put my cock between your huge tits and fuck them. I asked you that at a few times when we were dating.”

A look of disapproval crossed her face.

“And I always refused,” she said, a bit angrily.

She had, too. Rebecca liked being in control as much as I did. She NEVER did anything that could be construed as demeaning to herself in bed.

Of course, a few minutes before she had performed a striptease for me. Slightly demeaning.

I frowned, not about to give in.

I touched my nose.

“Rebecca, you suddenly realize that you’ve refused to let me tit-fuck you because you want it so much. The idea turned you on so much it scared you. But now, you realize it’s okay to give into that desire; you are overwhelmed by the thought of mingling a tit-fuck with a blowjob, and you agree to it. When you do it, it will turn you on incredibly much.” I took my finger off my nose.

Rebecca smiled.

“I think I was a bit unreasonable in my youth.”

She moved up slightly, licking her hands and rubbing them on the inside of her tits. That, plus my own pre-come, gave plenty of lubrication when she took one wonderful breast in each hand and squeezed my cock between them, moving up and down slowly, then more rapidly.

This was incredible, I thought, as I watched the tip of my cock peek out of the top of her cleavage, then disappear again. Rebecca craned her head down to lick at the tip of my cock when it emerged.

After a couple of minutes, I realized that she was tweaking her nipples in time with her up-and-down strokes. The sight was enough to make me know I was about to lose control.

“Look . . . at . . .me,” I gasped, touching my nose when she did.

“You . . . want . . . me . . . to . . . come . . . on . . .your . . . tits,” I gasped. “It will . . . turn you . . . on . . . even more . . .” I took my finger off my nose.

I cried out and came forever. Rebecca jiggled her breasts rapidly as my come spurted out; midway through my orgasm she leaned back and directed the intermittent streams onto one nipple, then the other. She smiled at me lazily and rubbed my semen over her tits as my orgasm finally subsided, then lifted her breasts up to her mouth and licked my discharge off her nipples.

“That was incredible,” she whispered. I nodded, almost comatose, then touched my nose again.

“You want to fuck me. Now. The pleasure of fucking me will be overwhelming, and you are compelled to pursue that pleasure.”

Rebecca stood, a vision in her high heels, took my hand and dragged me to my bedroom. She pushed me down so I was sitting on the edge of the bed, then kneeled down and took me in her mouth again.

I was hard in minutes. She stopped sucking me, and started to crawl up onto me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She stopped, puzzled.

“I’m going to get on top of you,” she said.

“No you’re not,” I replied. “I’m going to fuck you from behind.”

Now she got really angry.

“You know I never do that,” she snapped, pushing back off of me and standing up. “That’s the most humiliating position there is. No way.”

Yes way, I thought, as I put my finger on my nose.

“Rebecca, my dear, you have the same realization about being fucked from behind as you did about tit-fucking, only ten times more intense. You realize it’s your most secret fantasy to be fucked from behind. You feel dominated, completely controlled in that position, and you love it. You give into that secret urge; you beg me to fuck you from behind. You give yourself to me completely, and you do anything I tell you to do without question or objection from now on.”

I took my finger off my nose.

Rebecca now looked confused and tentative.

“Scott, can I tell you something?” she said.

“Well, sure,” I said.

“Actually, I’ve always wanted to be fucked from behind. I’ve never told anyone that, but I want you to do it. Will you?”

“Will I what?” I said.

She gulped.

“Will you fuck me from behind?”

“No. Not unless you ask me more sincerely.”

She stood in her high heels, and looked at me for a moment, then crawled onto the bed, resting on her elbows and knees, presenting her butt to me.

“Please fuck me,” she whispered.

“Say ‘please fuck me from behind,’” I said.

“Please fuck me from behind, Scott,” she whispered. “Please. I want your cock in me. I want to feel you thrusting into me. Please.”

I considered her request.

“Good enough,” I said, scrambling up to kneel behind her.

I looked down at the beautiful globes of her butt, as firm and round as a soccer ball. I positioned my cock just outside her hot, moist vagina, and slowly entered her.

Rebecca made a small gasping cry, her fingers clutching at the pillows involuntarily. I took her hips in my hands, thrusting myself in to the hilt, feeling her inner muscles contracting about me.

Her whole body was shaking. She was coming already, I realized. I was getting very close myself.

I exerted every ounce of self-control I had, watching her push her firm butt against me, seeing her break into a sweat as she cried out in ecstasy at every thrust. She was screaming “Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck me! Fuck me!” in time with my thrusts, her cries breaking down into unintelligible grunts and moans as wave after wave of orgasm took her.

She was, of course, completely unaware of the video cameras I had hidden in the living room and the bedroom.

I was amazed at her capacity for orgasm. She plateaued for a few moments on a plane of pleasure, then reached for more and more. She was coming harder and harder, and she had started letting her nipples brush across her fingers as her breasts swayed as she moved back and forth.

I couldn’t hold on any longer. I came even more powerfully than I had a half hour before.

At the feel of my cock jerking inside her, Rebecca let out a last shattering scream as she clamped down in her final, most intense orgasm. I came completely, then had just enough time to realize I was still hard, when amazingly, I came again.

Finally, we both collapsed on my bed.

“I . . . I never knew . . . you were capable of that . . .: she said, gazing at me in wonder.

“It was nice, wasn’t it? After something like that, you know you’ll sleep deeply, Rebecca.”

Her eyes closed and she went limp. I smiled.

“Now,” I said, leaning forward, “I have a few more instructions for you, Rebecca...”