The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s strange being stalked by someone you like. Stranger still, when you frequently meet them but can never remember.

I was in this odd situation because of a fling I had at a recent SF convention. An unusual sort of fling: the cute babe I’d been ogling turned out to be into hypnosis. I don’t even remember exactly what we did together. Well, OK, I remember some things. Enough to know it was a fun fling.

But I have a girlfriend, with whom I share an apartment and am very much in love. Meg has always been my dream girl. A brief torrid fling when we’re apart is all very nice—it’s even allowed, under our ground rules, as long as it’s torrid and I give Meg a blow-by-blow afterwards—but I have no desire for another relationship.

But every now and then, invariably when Meg isn’t home, I get a phone call that goes something like this (as best I can remember):

Ring “Hello?”

“Hello. Is this a wrong number?”

“Huh?”

“John, go into trance for me now...”

“Five, completely awake now.” Click

And then I find that I’m standing in the hallway wearing only a telephone... with a pile of clothes on the floor and a bit of a mess to clean up.

I’m not sure whether it’s incredibly sexy or incredibly weird. I think it’s both.

Ok, it’s very sexy. I’ve always been turned on by the idea of a beautiful woman dominating my mind with hypnosis. Or maybe even an ugly woman making me think she’s beautiful—that much control by itself is sexy.

But the terrible part is, I can’t tell Meg. It’s not that I don’t want to—I really want to! I’m finally in a relationship where it’s OK to have a fling on the side and the only price is I have to tell my lover about it. Men dream of this. And the whole stalking-with-hypnosis thing is right up Meg’s alley. It’s the sort of thing she might do—she hypnotises me a lot. I want to tell her.

But every time I try, I find that instead I’ve gotten up to get something from the fridge, or run to the bathroom, or suddenly I have a terrible urge to balance my checkbook. Once I left to walk the dog. We don’t have a dog. I got as far as the front door before Meg asked me where I was going with that leash.

(I think I covered well. Now she sometimes offers to get out the leash when she’s feeling particularly romantic. But I digress.)

The point is, I’m unable to tell her. The closest I ever got, I found that suddenly I was unable to speak at all. The woman from the convention must have given me some sort of post-hypnotic command.

I really want to be honest with my girlfriend, and I just can’t. Isn’t that perverse?

I met her over lunch the other day, downtown. Actually, it might not have been downtown; I remember giving the cab driver directions, but I have no idea what I said to him. It didn’t really occur to me that this was not my usual lunchtime habit until I’d paid him and started walking into the hotel.

Of course, I can’t remember the name of the hotel.

Around then I started to suspect what was going on. But it was too late to stop it. No matter how I tried, in fact, I couldn’t keep my feet from walking me up the stairs and down the hall to the room whose number was blazing in my mind. I was almost able to keep myself from knocking, but my right arm is stronger than my left and it won out in the end. I knocked on the door.

And she opened it. Sasha, the cute goth chick I had so foolishly hit on at the convention. My psycho hypno stalker babe from Hell.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” I said, trying my damnedest to be mad instead of horny. “What am I doing here?”

“Did you come all this way just to see me?” she asked, “That’s so nice! You know how I’ve always wanted to have a quickie at lunch time in a downtown hotel room! Come on in and close the door.”

“Are we downtown?” I asked.

She smiled. ”Now, John,” she said, looking me in the eye. I came in and closed the door.

“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, young lady,” I said, suppressing a shiver and looking down at the carpet, avoiding her eye.

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll do whatever you tell me,” I finished, shivering.

“Really?” She put a finger under my chin and nudged my face up until my eyes met hers.

Horny won a decisive victory over mad.

“Kneel,” Sasha said quietly.

I knelt. Where I had been standing, just inside the room, I was now fenced in by the bed, the dresser... and Sasha.

She put her foot up on the bed.

“Wouldn’t you like to kiss my ankle?” said Sasha.

I would. Actually, suddenly it was all I could think about. I remember when I was a kid, hearing a line from an old song about flashing a bit of ankle and thinking, what’s the deal? Ankles aren’t sexy. But Sasha’s was. It was the sexiest, most desirable thing in the world. Reverently, I brushed it with my lips.

“Mm, nice,” said Sasha. “Keep going... up my leg.”

I moved my lips higher. Feeling the soft hairs of her leg made me want to brush my cheek against them, and I slowly kissed and nuzzled my way up her calf towards her inner thigh. The slit of her skirt fell open above her knee, and she hiked her skirt up further for me as my lips moved up her leg. The smell of her perfume grew stronger, reminding me of... I couldn’t think what it reminded me of, but whatever it was, it made me feel extremely horny. And submissive.

Her perfume grew muskier, and suddenly I knew what her rising skirt was about to reveal.

“Mmmm... wouldn’t you like to taste me now, John?”

I couldn’t see what had happened to her skirt, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the salty, musky taste of her pussy in my mouth. The scent of her surrounded me as she pushed her hips forward, burying my nose in her flesh. My nose was wet with the scent of her, as I ran my tongue up the furrow between her lips, gently licking her clit.

“Aaaaah!” Sasha shrieked. I licked her clit some more.

“Aaaaah! Oh! Yes! Oh! Yes! Oh!” she yelled, thrusting her hips forward with each yell, smashing my nose into her over and over. I desperately followed her body with my tongue, trying to continue to please her as she thrashed against me.

“Aaoh! Aaoh! AH!hhhh...” Her last yell drew an echo from the walls. Then she slumped, and gently pushed my head away from her crotch.

“Oh... mmm. Meg certainly has you well-trained,” she said. “Oh, it’s hot in here.” She casually pulled her shirt off over her head and tossed it on the floor.

Happy but still horny, I watched with interest. I did remember that Sasha has delightful breasts, and doesn’t like bras. Sure enough, her perky nipples were immediately visible. And between her breasts, a flash of red...

My eyes locked on the beautiful crystal hanging on a necklace between her breasts. It looked familiar... so pretty as it caught the light...

“Whew! Much better. Now—what’s—oh, I see, my necklace. You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes...” I breathed. Hard to think about anything...

“John, ...”

I was walking down a city street. What was I doing? Oh, right, coming back from lunch. I walked into the building and took the elevator to my floor.

Just as I reached my desk, the phone rang. I picked it up. “John here.”

“Hello, John,” said a familiar female voice, and my cock stirred instantly at the sound. I listened to her speak for a few minutes, breathed “Yes...", then hung up. I had to come, now. I headed for the men’s room.

It wasn’t until I came to my senses in the men’s room stall, holding my cock and a wad of semen-soaked toilet paper, that I realized I was missing my underwear. And wondering where they had gone, I started to remember the hotel...