The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

xRob Jones walked through the front entrance of Smith Enterprises’ main building unchallenged. The big Russian—Grigori?—had been right about that. Rob wasn’t sure exactly how the building’s security systems recognized him, but they did: as Tommie had shown him, he was excluded from only a few high-priority areas. Tommie’s office, naturally, wasn’t one of them.

Of course, he reflected, considering that the two spies had been able to bug that office with video cameras, and who knew what else, one had to wonder how good Smith security really was. If they’d put some effort into it, they might have been able to get in themselves and take what they wanted.

Then again, this way, if something went wrong, it’d be his ass, not theirs. He wondered if anyone would even believe him if he explained.

He decided it didn’t matter. He just had to go through with this, and put it behind him as fast as he could.

Tommie wasn’t in her office when he got there. Rob breathed a sigh of relief. He tried not to think of the office’s security cameras: he didn’t know how to neutralize them, and the Russians only seemed to be able to eavesdrop, not override the cameras’ feed the way Tommie could.

He went through a couple of drawers in Tommie’s desk before he found what he was after. He pulled it out and looked at it. Just as he remembered from the video he’d been shown, it looked like an ordinary flashlight, a little larger than usual and with an outsized lens over the business end. The controls were simple: an on-off switch, a couple of indicator lights and a sliding knob which apparently controlled the beam’s intensity. At the moment, the slider was pulled all the way back.

It was creepy to think that he wouldn’t have recognized it at all if Grigori and his pal, whose name Rob still didn’t know, hadn’t showed him their recording. Tommie had wiped his memory of her using it on him so completely that it hadn’t come back even after he’d seen the video.

Now came the really tricky part.

If Tommie had been in, he’d have had to postpone his little burglary. Personally, he’d rather have put it off forever: just thinking about the “hypno-whammatron” gave him the willies, and the idea of its falling into the hands of those two goons, to say nothing of their bosses, spooked him even worse. But they’d made it perfectly clear what they’d do if he didn’t cooperate.

Now that he had the thing, however, he needed her here. Gently placing his prize atop Tommie’s desk, he pulled out his cellphone and punched her speed-dial number (1, of course).

She answered after the second ring, and Rob hurried to speak: “Tommie, it’s me, Rob. I’m at your office. Can you come over here right away? It’s important.”

“What are you doing at my office?” the young inventor asked. “What’s going on, Rob?”

“I’d rather not explain over the phone,” her boyfriend responded. “Just please, hurry?”

“All right, Rob,” Tommie agreed after a few seconds. “I hope it’s really as important as you say. I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” And with that, she hung up.

Rob sighed with relief. Thank God it didn’t occur to her to use that trigger phrase and then ask me what was going on, he thought. “Robbie Robot” would have told her everything, and then the fat would have been in the fire.

Thomasina Smith’s expensive high heels click-clicked down the tile floor of the hallway leading to her office in Smith Enterprises’ main building at an impatient pace. She really didn’t like it that Rob had come here while she was out. Oh, she trusted him, but still, it was a security breach. What could he have been thinking? He knew better!

Her mood wasn’t improved by the fact that Rob had interrupted her in the midst of a workout with her favorite trainer, a muscular blond stud by the name of George. (She didn’t know his last name, and didn’t think she needed to.) Not that she was really fooling around with him or anything, not with Daddy’s monitors everywhere; she only really had privacy in her office (and even there only because of what she’d done to its snoop cams), and George wasn’t cleared for the building. Still, she enjoyed watching him, even if she couldn’t touch. Rob didn’t know about George, and didn’t need to know.

At last she arrived and went in. Rob was standing behind her desk, one hand behind his back as if concealing a present. “All right,” she said, rather crossly, “what’s so important, Rob?”

“Just this,” he said casually. His hidden hand came forward. He was holding the hypno-whammatron.

“Rob, what are you doooo—!“ Tommie’s words trailed off as Rob flipped the on switch.

Tommie had experimented on herself a little with her invention, so the dazzling swirl of colors she suddenly saw wasn’t entirely new to her. But she’d always had it set on low power those times, just enough to satisfy her that it really worked. This time was different: the light from the little projector blazed into her eyes, overwhelming everything.

The colors drew her in, in, washing over her and through her, washing away her awareness of the office. She tried to focus, to think, but all she could think about were the beautiful swirling colors. Some remnant of instinct drove her forward, hands outstretched ahead of her as if to grab her creation away from Rob, but after two stumbling steps that impulse, too, swirled away. Her arms fell to her side and she stood, swaying gently, a vacant smile on her face.

Observing her, Rob Jones smiled. So this was what it was like on the other side! The brainy beauty he’d been dating all these months stood there, weaving slightly on her feet, all her intimidating intellect wiped away, and she was his to command. Just as he had been hers.

Tommie had left the office door open. That wouldn’t do. Rob crossed the room and closed it, making sure it was locked. Then he walked over to Tommie. Standing between her and the desk, he cupped her chin with his free hand, tilting her face up so that her glazed eyes met his.

“Tommie,” he instructed her, “from now on, things are going to change between us. I’m in charge now, Tommie, and what I say goes. You’ll do anything I say. Anything at all, any time I want.”

“Anything you say,” Tommie agreed in a breathy, little-girl voice that made Rob feel a stirring in his pants. “Anytime you want. Yes, Rob.”

“Good girl, Tommie,” Rob said. “Now the first thing I want is for you to forget that trigger phrase you installed in me. I want you to forget you ever gave me a trigger phrase that can put me in a trance. You’re going to forget, you’re forgetting, whoosh, you’ve forgotten. It’s gone, all gone.”

“Forgotten,” Tommie whispered. “Gone, all gone. Yes, Rob.”

“That’s a good girl, Tommie,” responded Rob. With that memory erased, he didn’t have to worry about Tommie putting him under. He could see about actually removing the trigger later. “Now I need you to answer some questions for me, Tommie, and you’re going to tell me the truth. You’re going to tell me everything because you can’t help it, Tommie, because you’re under my power and must obey, and because you trust me completely.”

Tommie murmured assent. “Tell you . . . everything. Under your power . . . must obey. Trust you . . . completely.”

“That’s right.” Rob nodded. “First question: Who else knows about this invention, besides you and me?” And two Russian industrial spies, he added silently.

“Nobody,” came the answer. Tommie giggled. “It’s a se-cret. Even Daddy doesn’t know yet.”

“Perfect,” her boyfriend exulted. “And we’re not going to tell anybody, either.” You bet we’re not, he thought. “We need to keep it secret, even from your father, until we’re sure it’s been perfected.”

Again Tommie agreed in a dazed voice.

Rob smiled. If he handled this right, nobody had to know anything. But for now, there was more he had to do.

Fist, he went over to Tommie’s desk and carefully slid her gimmick into a top drawer. Then he walked back to where he’d stood before, facing the hypnotized Thomasina Smith, and addressed her.

“Tommie, do you have any printouts or disks of the plans for your,” he snickered at the silly name, “hypno-whammatron?”

“No, Rob,” came the answer. “It’s all on . . . the com-pu-ter.”

“That’s good, Tommie,” Rob assured her. “Now I need you to do something important, Tommie. I need you to fix the security monitors in here, like you’ve done before, so we can have real privacy.” A sudden thought made him add a nervous question: “Can you fix it so that the fake feed overwrites everything since I came in?” That would never have been possible in the old analog days, he knew—not without physically replacing the tape, anyway—but Smith Enterprises’ video security recording was fully digital.

“Yes, Rob,” Tommie informed him. She giggled again. Somewhere in what now passed for her mind, it registered that Rob wanted privacy with her. To her clouded logic, that meant sex.

“Good. Do it, then.”

Rob watched, leaning against Tommie’s desk, as the hypnotized inventor punched in codes and flipped switches on a small wall-mounted console. Finally the girl turned away from the controls and stood quietly.

“Is it done?” he asked. “Have you fixed it so nobody knows I came in, and nobody knows we’re here?”

“Yes, Rob,” Tommie answered.

Rob grinned evilly. Time for a little payback, he gloated. “That’s good, Tommie,” he said. “Now listen carefully. From now on, Tommie, when we’re alone together, you’ll call me ‘master,’ unless I tell you otherwise. You’ll call me ‘master,’ and not notice you’re doing it. Do you understand, Tommie?”

“Yes, master,” his girlfriend replied.

“But, Tommie,” Rob cautioned, “when anyone else is around, you’ll call me by my regular name Do you understand this, too?”

“Yes, master,” the answer came. “When anyone else is around . . . call you by . . . your regular name.”

“That’s right, Tommie,” Rob agreed. “No one must know that I’ve hypnotized you. You do know that’s what’s happened, don’t you, Tommie? I’ve used your invention, and I’ve hypnotized you. You must do and think only what I tell you to until I wake you up, and even when I wake you up, you must do what I’ve told you to do, even though you won’t remember me telling you. Repeat my instructions if you understand all that and will obey.”

“Yes, master.” Thomasina Smith, girl genius, repeated Rob’s instructions in a ditzy little-girl voice.

“Now, you mustn’t think that I’m going to make you do anything that will hurt you, Tommie.” Rob smiled. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, in fact. A lot of fun!”

“A lot . . . of fun.“ Tommie giggled. “Fun fun fun!”

“That’s right, Tommie. Fun fun fun!” Rob reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small recorder. He’d downloaded something special, just for this meeting, after his run-in with the Russians.

“You’re no longer Thomasina Smith,” he told the bedazzled blonde. “You’re Tommie Ta-Tas. You’re a stripper, and when you hear the music, you have to strip, no matter where you are.” He laughed. “And the more you dance, the more you strip, the hornier you get, Tommie, until you can’t think about anything but sex.” He paused. “What’s your name?”

“Tommie Ta-Tas, master,” came the answer.

Hmm, Rob thought. Perhaps a little fine-tuning—! “When you’re Tommie Ta-Tas, Tommie, you don’t call me master. You call me by name, or ‘honey,’ or things like that, because you don’t know you’re hypnotized—but you’ll still do anything I say, won’t you?”

“Yes, Rob baby,” cooed Tommie. ”Anything you say.“ She slithered over to him.

Rob gulped. He managed to maintain enough presence of mind to press the ON button on his recorder, though, and as he did, brassy thumping music filled the air.

Tommie Ta-Tas danced, letting the music guide her. She didn’t need anything more. She knew what to do.

The costume she had on was this frumpy thing a secretary or clerk might wear. She couldn’t wait to peel out of it! She shrugged off the stiff jacket and grasped the hem of the dowdy blouse underneath with both hands, pulling it over her head. As it went up, she made sure to wriggle just right to give her one-guy audience a great look at her flat, muscular stomach and big tits. A faint masculine moan told her she’d hit the target, and as the shirt came off over her head, she smirked.

Then it was time to writhe out of the trousers that went with the jacket. At least those were tight enough to show off her hips and legs to good advantage. Driven by the music pounding in her head, Tommie slid out of the pants, kicking them aside when they fell around her ankles.

She posed for a moment, hands locked behind her head with fingers buried in her rich blonde hair, arching her back. “You like?” she teased, knowing the answer by instinct even though her conscious mind was deeply asleep.

Rob Jones swallowed hard again. He could hardly recognize the wanton creature in front of him as the coolly intellectual girl he’d known for years. Tommie had accepted his sexy suggestions as if she’d been waiting all her life for them.

But then, he told himself, perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, this was the same girl who’d used her invention to turn him into a sex toy. Obviously Thomasina Smith had a dark side to her nature.

Well, now that he’d found out about it, they were going to have a lot of fun together, just as he’d told her.

Tommie was so hot! Stripping to the music had made her wild! And here was a man, right in front of her. She didn’t even remember who he was anymore, and it didn’t matter. She slithered over to him and pressed against his body, planting her lips on his and twining her arms about him. One shapely leg came up and hooked around his thigh, and she ground into him eagerly, smiling as she heard an answering groan of lust.

“Come on, Rob honey,” she purred. (Yes, Rob was his name: she remembered now. Not that it mattered.) One hand slithered around and began playing with the buttons of his shirt. . . .

Some time later, Rob came back to himself on the carpeted floor. He barely remembered how the bedazzled blonde babe now sitting astride him had helped him shed his own clothes, or how, afterward, the two of them had sunk to the floor, their intertwined forms pumping against each other. He had a foggy sense of Tommie’s tits pressed against his face, smothering him in ecstasy, and of his body moving with hers toward a shattering blast of pleasure.

All the while, Tommie’s writhing had followed the rhythm of the music from the player. And even as she rode atop him now, she continued to move to that brassy beat, though the player now lay on the floor where he’d dropped it when she’d thrust herself ecstatically against him.

He could feel a fresh tide of desire and sensation building within him, but some dim instinct told him not to yield to it. With an effort, he squirmed out from under the eager flesh of Smith Enterprises’ heiress apparent. He reached for the music player and shut it off.

As the pounding music stopped, so did Tommie. With a sigh, she relaxed and lay back on the carpet. Her eyes closed.

Oh no you don’t, thought Rob. Scooping up the hypno-whammatron, he knelt beside his stupefied sweetheart and commanded, “Open your eyes, Tommie. Open your eyes and pay attention.” He pointed the gadget at her and flicked the ON switch.

Tommie opened her eyes and was immediately lost in the beautiful swirling light from her invention. “Ooooo,” she cooed woozily. “Oooohhh. . . . .”

“You’re Thomasina Jones again,” directed Rob. “Stand up, Tommie. Stand up and keep paying attention as I tell you what to do next.”

“Yes, master.” Tommie obeyed, rising supplely to her feet and standing docilely, eyes blank, waiting for her next orders.

“I want you to give me disks of everything you’ve got on the hypno-whammatron, Tommie,” was her master’s command. Give me all of it, and then erase everything and forget you ever invented it.” He paused. “Do you understand me, Tommie? After you give me copies of all your records on the hypno-whammatron, you’ll destroy the originals and forget you ever invented it.”

“Yes, master.” Tommie nodded slowly. “I understand.”

“Good girl, Tommie,” answered her lover. “Do it now.”

And Tommie did. Still naked, she went to her computer, punched in commands, and presently produced a pair of disks, offering them to Rob. Then she punched in a new set of directives, erasing her carefully protected secret files on her latest creation. At last, finished, she put her hands in her lap and sat waiting for further directions.

Rob Jones clutched the computer disks in his hand as if they were winning lottery tickets.

In a way, he reflected, they were. With them, and with the prototype device itself which he still held in his other hand, he could face the Russians—and afterward, he and Tommie were going to take their relationship to a whole new level.

Maybe after a while he’d get rid of her compulsion to call him “master” when they were alone. But, by God, he was going to be her master from now on! After years of being the dumb boyfriend of the famous young inventor, he had it coming!

He smiled tightly as he faced the still-nude Tommie as she sat smiling vapidly behind her expensive executive desk. “I’ve got some things to do now, honey,” he told her. “When I leave, you’ll get dressed and then wake up, relaxed and refreshed, and remember only that you took a little nap. You won’t remember me hypnotizing you, or what happened after that. You won’t even remember that I asked you to come over here; instead, you’ll remember that you came over to take care of some paperwork, and just nodded off at your desk. Repeat my instructions, Tommie, if you understand and will obey them.”

“Yes, master,” the bedazzled beauty answered. She repeated Rob’s instructions word for word.

Rob thought of something else. “Oh, yes,” he added. “When I leave, after you get dressed but before you wake up, Tommie, you’ll reset the office security monitors back to normal and forget you rigged them before. I wasn’t here, after all, so there was no need to rig the monitors.” He knew his last sentence was the kind of logic that only a hypnotized mind would accept, but of course that was the point.

“Yes, master,” Tommie agreed. “You weren’t here. No need to . . . rig the monitors.”

Rob nodded approval. “I’m glad we understand each other, Tommie honey.” He walked to the door, opened it, went through, and closed it gently behind him.

At the click of the latch, Thomasina Smith rose like a sleepwalker from her seat, collected her clothes where she had discarded them in her hypnotized strip act as Tommie Ta-Tas, and dressed. Then she returned to her seat and tapped out a familiar set of instructions on her computer console, resetting the security systems. As she did, she felt her memories of meeting Rob here, and of rigging the systems as she’d done on past occasions, slip completely away. It didn’t bother her. After all, he hadn’t been here, so there was nothing to remember and no reason she’d have had to hide it. Then even that thought vanished. Tommie blinked and yawned. Wow, she thought, I must have really been tired! It seemed she’d actually fallen asleep at her desk over her paperwork. Small wonder: the stuff was so boring she couldn’t even remember what it had been about. Sighing, she gathered herself. There didn’t seem to be anything important she had left to do, so she might as well go home.

Rob walked into the Russians’ hideout warily, flanked by the two spies.

At their first encounter, the agents had instructed him to call them when he had the hypno-whammatron and the plans for it in his possession. When he’d done so, they had given him directions for a rendezvous, and had picked him up in their car.

Once inside, the big one—Grigori, yes, that was his name—rumbled, “Handing over merchandise now, please.”

Rob backed away: “Hold it, not till I see the money.”

“Of course, of course,” the smaller one reassured him. “Grigori, restrain your . . . enthusiasm. We are businessmen, after all, not thieves.”

Rob had his doubts, but the Slavic gorilla made no further move toward him, and his partner produced a heavy suitcase. He popped its latches and the top sprang open. He tilted it to display its contents.

Rob stepped forward and gasped. Inside was a neat arrangement of bundles of hundred-dollar bills. There had to be hundreds of thousands of dollars in there!

“We could have arranged an account in Switzerland, or something similar in another country, of course,” the spy said. “But cash is so much less traceable these days, when even the Swiss may be persuaded to break confidentiality. It was simply a matter of having our employer wire the funds. And our, ah, video presentation was most persuasive in that regard.” Laughing, he closed the case, set it on the floor and nudged it towards Rob. “The merchandise now, if you please. Carefully.”

Rob reached into the heavy leather carrying bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a small case made of a stiffer grade of leather. “This is it,” he told the spies. He placed it carefully on the floor, reached back into the bag and pulled out a black plastic box. “And these are the plans.” He put the box down next to the case.

The smaller spy scooped up both and grinned. He opened the leather case and pulled out the device inside. Pointing it at Rob, he announced, “Now for a demonstration.” He thumbed the ON switch.

“Your wish is my command,” Rob answered. With a grin of his own, he reached back into his carrying bag and pulled out Tommie’s invention as the beam from the perfectly ordinary flashlight in the Russian’s hand washed harmlessly over him. He turned it on and pointed it at the two foreign agents, moving it back and forth to be sure of getting both of them. After a minute or so, he spoke.

“Do you hear me?” he asked. “Say ‘yes, master’ if you can hear me.” The “yes, master” bit was corny, he knew, but it was a good test: they’d never say that unless the hypno-whammatron had really put them under.

“Yes, master,” came the response from both of the Russians, almost in unison. The pair stood swaying gently on their feet, arms hanging loosely at their sides. They were hypnotized, all right.

Rob smiled tightly. He might not be a genius like Tommie, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d suspected all along that if he handed over the device, the first thing the Russians would do would be to hypnotize him with it, letting them take both the hypnotic device and the money they’d offered him for it. And sure enough, the little guy had tried exactly that.

But what Rob had given him was a mockup, a dummy, a plain ordinary flashlight made to look like the real thing. It hadn’t been that hard to come up with the fake, since most of what made the hypno-whammatron special was inside.

Now he had to finish the business. He took a deep breath.

“Listen to me carefully, both of you,” he commanded. “You are now completely under my control. You are used to taking orders, aren’t you.” It wasn’t really a question.

“Used to . . . taking orders,” the smaller spy muttered in English. The big one mumbled something in Russian.

“That’s fine,” Rob told them. “Now you’re going to take some from me.” He drew another deep breath. “You’re going to take the device I gave you back to your bosses. The money too.” Too bad about that, he thought, but it was safer that way. Besides, it was tainted money. “You’ve conned a stupid American out of an amazing device, and when you get back home, you’ll be eager to show your bosses what it can do.” A flash of inspiration: “In fact, you plan on trying it out on them. Who knows what you could do if you could control them?”

The smaller spy—damn it, why hadn’t he ever leaned that one’s name?—grinned and echoed, “Who knows what . . . we could do.”

Rob smirked. That ought to do it. These two would have a lot of explaining to do after they brought back their “prize,” tried to use it and found out what it was really worth.

Rob went on: “You won’t remember what really happened here. You will believe that you hypnotized me, made me forget all about you and about the device, and then took it and your money and left. Say, ‘Yes, master’ again if you understand and will obey.”

“Yes, master again,” the pair facing him chorused, and Rob snickered. It was like something out of a comedy routine.

“You will remember hypnotizing me, taking the device and the money, and sending me away with instructions to forget everything. You will not discuss this with each other, because it’s not necessary. Do you understand me, and will you obey my instructions? Say ‘Yes, master’ if you understand and will obey.”

“Yes, master,” came the response from both of the hypnotized Russian agents.

Rob led his captives through their instructions twice more to reinforce their conditioning. Finally he nodded in satisfaction.

“I’m going to leave now,” he told the spellbound spies. “As soon as I do, you will wake up and believe what I’ve told you to believe, remember what I’ve told you to remember. You will then immediately arrange to return home with the marvelous invention you’ve stolen. You’ve got big plans for that invention.” He paused. “Now repeat what you’re going to do as soon as I leave.”

The Russians did as they’d been told and Rob nodded. He put the hypno-whammatron back in his valise and shut it carefully before walking away, leaving his would-be exploiters behind.

Dmitry Konstantinov grinned. “It’s perfect, Grigori,” he gloated in Russian. “We get the invention, and the money. Our bosses don’t have to know, eh, that we didn’t really give their payment to the foolish American boy? And when we get home, whatever we want will be ours for the asking!” He laughed. “We just have to ask the right way.” He waved the device clutched tightly in his right hand.

Grigori Ustanin laughed as well. “How do the Americans say it?” he said in the same language. “Our ship has come in! And not before time, tovarishch, let me tell you. All those months holed up here, spying on the American corporation—sometimes, I tell you, I thought my head would explode from boredom!” He pounded a hamhock fist into a meaty palm. “I was beginning to think the whole thing was a waste of time.”

“It just goes to show,” replied his partner, “the virtue of patience. One never knows what will come along, if one can only wait.” And he laughed again. “Now come. We have some calls to make, and packing to do.”

Back at his apartment, Rob Jones quietly celebrated.

I got away with it! he exulted. The hypno-whammatron sat atop his dresser. Next to it was the plastic case containing the real plans for Tommie’s creation. The disks he’d given the Russians were junk, of course.

He grinned tightly. The two spies had thought he was a chump, a tool they could use and throw away. He still marveled that they thought threatening him and showing him what Tommie had done would be enough to get him to sell out not only his girlfriend but his country. Who were the real chumps?

They were off his back, anyway, and if they continued to follow the commands he’d given them, they wouldn’t be returning. The secret of the hypno-whammatron was safe. Even from its inventor, he thought, smirking. That suited him just fine. Things were going to go his way from now on.

EPILOGUE:

Thomasina Smith and Rob Jones were married following a whirlwind courtship. At first, Tommie’s father was against the wedding, but after a private talk with his daughter’s suitor, he changed his mind. Other family members experienced similar conversions after meeting with the young man. Rob was given a cushy job with Smith Enterprises, with every expectation of rising to a top executive position. Tommie is devoted to her husband. In fact, she can’t say no to him.

Dmitry Konstantinov and Grigori Ustanin were fired from their jobs with Lebedev Industrial Combine and blacklisted throughout Russia after attempting to demonstrate their “find” on their immediate superior. They were obliged to use the payoff money they had secretly kept to purchase new identities for themselves and emigrate to America, and now live quiet lives among the Russian émigré community in Brooklyn.