The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Light trickled in through the cracks in the curtain-covered windows. Morning warmth spread through the air of the room as the day outside heated up. Jack lay on his back in bed, the covers pulled up to his armpits, his hands behind his head. A lazy grin crept over his face. Images clear as crystal of nude and glistening bodies entangled in carnal congress played like a motion picture before his eyes. Never had he imagined such glorious things were possible, that such pleasures existed. Earlier he had awoken to find the girls’ sleeping forms nuzzled up next to him, the deflowered Megan on his left and the sumptuous eye-candy Heidi on his right. Jack had never smoked before, but he now understood its morning-after allure.

Before sending them away, Jack used the mindwash spell, as he called it, to further his plans for the future. He instructed the girls to always be sexually attracted to him, even when the mindlessness wore off and conscious thought returned. He instructed them to remember his commands from throughout the night and the feelings they brought about, but to keep them just below the surface of their minds, never truly thinking about them. Then he sent them back to Megan’s room with a command to shower thoroughly. A few quick, final words ensured the mind spell would be release them when they took their first step out of the shower. Everything went along smoothly.

The utter euphoria of his conquests passed, replaced by a profound feeling of peace and accomplishment—and, following that, quiet contentment. It was at this stage that the practical and rational piece of Jack’s mind began to work.

Several key issues had arisen over the course of the week and the previous night. First and foremost was the fact that the ‘responsive state of mindlessness’ spell from the book worked, as well as the limbo/time freeze spell and the desire/irresistibility spell. All three drastically influenced the actions of those subjected to their power. The mindwash spell, however, had potentially much farther-reaching consequences. While the desire spell altered a subject’s animal lust in the heat of a single moment, the suggestions implanted during mindlessness were immediately downloaded into the memory of the subject, where they could be stored and brought to fruition at a later date. Jack wondered briefly if the same would occur inside the time freeze.

The other issue Jack felt was of vital importance was the one dealing with his personal situation. Simply stated, the book was changing his life perceptions and abilities. But not just in terms of getting him easily laid—that ability, he knew, he now had for the rest of his life. The book was boosting his confidence, his stamina (sexually, of course), his overall athleticism, and his ability to talk to women. It was as if the book was imbuing him with the patience and skill to pleasure women, as well as the power to manipulate them.

Jack felt like the eye of the hurricane when using the book’s spells—no matter how manic or frenzied what was going on around him got, he always remained calm and maintained total clarity. He knew the way he acted the previous night was totally out of character. He had controlled the situation and dominated the girls, pleasuring them beyond what was thought possible in their wildest dreams. The bumbling, inexperienced Jack-of-old would never have handled it as he did. Was the book somehow responsible for that, some sort of key to unlock a man’s hidden sexual ability?

It certainly unlocked his sexual energy. He wanted to go all night long, but he knew—and again, how did he know with his limited experience—that a virgin such as Megan would not have been able to handle it. So they had stopped after only the one encounter. But there would be others, Jack knew without a doubt.

They could wait, however; the knowledge junkie in Jack reared its ravenous head. He needed to know more.

Fifteen minutes later Jack parked his 2000 Escalade in the parking lot next to Noah’s Bagels and jogged across the street, where the ivy-walled fortress known as the Green Briar public library had lain for over seventy years. The library was a mammoth three-story building with hundreds of thousands of books, magazines, periodicals, references, etc., and had been one of the first in the country to move to micro disc information storage. The renowned and famous historical landmark was still of great use to the citizens of Green Briar, a true melting pot of information.

Jack was a voracious reader and always loved the feeling of being surrounded by books. On this day, however, Jack’s intentions ran a bit deeper than simply a social call. It certainly did not take Sherlock Holmes to connect local legend Joe Rosenthal with the book Jack had found in the attic—Larry Holmes could have figured that out. The tattered note, committed to Jack’s memory now, was signed J.R. and the mansion it was found in belonged to Rosenthal. Jack knew enough about the deceased man to appear informed in polite conversation, but he needed to know more—where he came from, how he found his wealth, etc. He had so many questions and very few answers.

Once inside Jack bypassed the fiction and nonfiction sections and headed straight for the old newspapers. Jack was no stranger to the classification and filing system of the library but eighty-year-old newspaper clippings were still tough to come by. After an hour of searching, Jack had only two small articles to show for his time. Exhausted, he sat down to study them, the first a 1935 gossip column clip, the second a 1926 business report clip.

YOUNG HEARTTHROB STEALS HOLLYWOOD HEARTS

HOLLYWOOD, CA—Scandal always involves beauty in tinsel town, but the new beautiful face of Hollywood scandal has nothing to do with making movies.

Millionaire businessman Joseph Rosenthal is making tidal waves among the male movie elite with his audaciously brazen—and endlessly successful—advances upon their leading ladies. The rumor mill is churning, and who knows what lies are true?

A beautiful young Hollywood actress with intimate knowledge of Rosenthal but who wishes to remain nameless for fear of destroying her career agreed to shed some light on the scandals. Here she separates the fact from the fiction:

Rumor #1: Women cannot resist him.

“Absolutely true. Joe can have any woman he wants. Something about him, his confidence, his poise, is extremely attractive to us. Irresistible, in fact. No woman, married or otherwise, has ever told him no. He’s a modern day Don Juan.”

Rumor #2: Men hate him.

“True and false. Many men hate him enough to even want to kill him, but they are only the men who have not met him. Once you meet Joe, you are henceforth drawn to him in ways you could never imagine. Men who hated him have met him, professed their loyalty to the point of taking a bullet for him.

“Joe and I were at dinner one time when a studio man happened by. The man hated Joe and began to rant and rave about how Joe was the devil in human form. Joe asked him to sit down to talk about it. The studio man did, and by the end of the dinner he loved Joe so much, he even offered Joe the company of his wife for the night. Like she was a car or something. Joe accepted, and the three of us all went back to his place for the evening, me on his left arm, her on his right!”

Rumor #3: He is good in bed.

“Joe is the greatest lover the world has ever known. Bar none. Anyone who has been with him agrees. Orgasm is his middle name.”

Jack sighed; though interesting, the gossip column was not getting him anywhere. He switched over to the business section clip.

RAGS TO RICHES TO RIPE RISK FOR ROSENTHAL

NEW YORK—Twenty-four year old wunderkind Joseph Rosenthal burst onto the stock market scene this week, buying, selling, and trading hundreds of thousands of dollars on the margin, the riskiest of all stock dealings.

When asked why he was prepared to place so much money at risk, Rosenthal cryptically answered, “When an apple is ripe, you pick it. When the apple is golden, you risk it.” Whatever his reasoning, the strategy is paying off.

Little is known about Rosenthal prior to his scene-bursting arrival in New York. The son of a factory worker in Illinois, Rosenthal lived in squalor with his parents until he went off to make his way in his eighteenth year. By age twenty, he had made over one million dollars.

Four years later Rosenthal, who keeps the true depth and nature of his finances under tight security, is thought to be worth at minimum ten times that amount, though many in the business community guess he is worth much more.

When asked how long he will continue to attack the stock market, Rosenthal quietly replied, “Until I grow bored with it, another year at most.”

Jack sighed again. He was getting nowhere.

Jack left the library and headed home. When he returned to the house, he found it lacking activity. Only Gerard and Melinda, the hired help who came Sunday to Thursday, were there, straightening and restraightening the many rooms, keeping everything tidy.

Gerard smiled warmly when Jack walked up. The man was like an affectionate uncle to Jack; at only 43 years old, he was always one to give wise advice but was not averse to having a little fun, even with the son of his employer. Max Cutter had known Gerard for over twenty years.

“How are you, Jack?” the butler asked.

“Doing good, Gerardo,” Jack replied, using his favorite nickname. “Quiet around here, isn’t it?”

Gerard swept his head around. “Indeed. No action of any kind. When does the family return?”

“Not too long,” Jack said with a shrug. “Jess should be back tomorrow, my parents and step-sisters in a few days. Megan”—Jack couldn’t stop the grin spreading over his face—“is around here somewhere. Maybe she went into town.”

“What’s so funny?” Gerard was too sharp not to notice the humorous tone in Jack’s voice.

“Nothing.”

Gerard’s eyes narrowed inquisitively. “Right,” he said dubiously, “and I believe that like I believe there was no gunman on the grassy knoll.” Gerard had always been a bit of a conspiracy theorist.

Jack’s smile would not fade, even as he trudged up the long staircase to his room. A few minutes later he was sitting at his desk, the book lying open before him. He felt spacey—for some reason his mind kept getting distracted from any and all forms of intelligent thought. He needed something mindless to do. He called up Cassandra but she was nowhere to be found. And so, in a rare move, Jack decided to go to the mall again and do some clothes shopping—the start of his freshman year of college was only two weeks away, after all.

An hour later Jack wandered around the Green Briar mall, casually shopping the windows, occasionally entering a store. He swiftly bypassed the Fashion Square, unsure of the lasting effects of his spell on the Erin girl. Had it truly been only two days ago? So much had happened since then. His eyes began to roam over the forms and figures of every female he passed across, including the ones he would normally consider ugly. For some odd reason this morning, he found them all beautiful, every single one.

Around noon, having spent nearly two hours keeping himself occupied, Jack set himself down at the food court for some Chinese food lunch. He slowly ate his chow mien noodles, enjoying his view as the women walked by.

Without warning a warm breath swept across his ear, followed by a sultry voice. “Hello, stud,” the voice said, and Jack spun around to find himself face-to-face with the mother of all sexpots, Kirsten Poole.

Jack was dumbfounded. He knew there was no way he would be able to speak under such conditions, beautiful women always tied up his tongue. Thus he was doubly surprised when he heard himself say, “Hello, yourself, sassy lady.” Where the hell did that come from?

“Mind if I sit down?” she asked, all sweet innocence.

She looked phenomenal, her willowy figure, taut tummy, and full breasts on prominent display in a tight pink tube top and thin black mini-skirt. An expensive diamond necklace sparkled as it hung from her slender neck at the foothills of her flesh mountains. Golden hair cascaded off her hair and rolled over her shoulders, framing a face of nearly unparalleled craftsmanship. Jack knew the head cheerleader and homecoming queen for his high school archrival was a frequent fashion show runway model, and her face was perfectly symmetrical with high cheekbones, a tiny nose, and dazzling deep blue eyes. She batted her insanely long eyelashes at him.

“Go ahead,” Jack heard himself say, stunned at the confidence in his voice, “if you think you can handle it.”

Her eyes narrowed, betraying for just a moment her own surprise at his comment, then softened as she pulled her chair close up to him and sat down. Jack figured Kirsten was a girl who was used to having the upper hand in a conversation, and the strangeness of his comment had caught her momentarily off guard.

“I saw you here the other day,” she whispered, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

Jack smiled tightly and sipped from his coke. “I vaguely remember such a thing,” Jack said. “Where’s the meathead today?”

Kirsten giggled girlishly. She was good, very good, Jack thought. “I suppose you mean Chip,” she replied. “Chip’s not my keeper. I do what I want and I see who I want.”

Jack tried his best to look bored. “And I care, why?”

She leaned forward slowly and laid a gentle hand on his knee, her enchanting eyes locked to his. “Because now I want to see you.”

Jack grinned. Kirsten smiled back at him, her pearly white teeth flawless, and her appetizingly pink tongue resting lightly against the straight bottom row. Her breath hinted of mint and Jack inhaled the scent deeply. “I could do with a little bit of you right now, my lady,” Jack said. Jack’s body was hot and his blood was pumping—but not from the heat the beautiful girl opposite him was generating. Jack felt powerful, confident, and attractive, and the potent combination was providing a rush unlike any other. At that moment, Jack knew he could handle anything.

“Let’s go somewhere,” he suggested boldly, “where we can talk privately.”

Her smile turned almost bashful and her eyes swept down at the floor as a blush actually swept over her cheeks. Jack found it to be one of the most incredibly alluring things he had ever seen. The girl was a pro.

“OK,” she agreed. “Do you have a car?”

Jack detected a hint of something in her voice, something that didn’t fit quite right with the rest of her tone. “I do,” he said evenly, " an Escalade, actually.”

Her eyes lit up. “I love that car!” she exclaimed, delighted. “I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

Jack stood up and grinned down at her. From his vantage point he could see through her tube top, past the deep crevice between her breasts and on down over his flat belly. He felt a familiar stirring in his loins. He extended her his hand and she took it.

“Come with me,” he said.

The drive back to the mansion lasted an eternity. Going eighty down the freeway, Jack still couldn’t get there fast enough. Kirsten’s hand lay across his leg the entire time, unmoving, as tremendous a tease job as Jack had ever seen. The girl was full of questions, most of them for details about his car. Finally they arrived, and Jack dialed in the security code to open the massive front gate.

“Oh my god,” Kirsten murmured softly, “it’s huge.” Her eyes were wide with wonder, her voice full of awe.

“As good a home as any other, I guess,” Jack said with a smile. He was used to this kind of reaction—his father had made a lot of money in his business dealings and definitely could not be considered a frugal person. Everything he owned was lush and expensive.

Kirsten could not get over it. “It must be fabulous living here,” she said, “living in such luxury.”

Jack shrugged; he hated talking about how much money his family had. But with Kirsten he was prepared to humor her for a while. “Of course,” he replied evenly. “Our lives have been blessed with good fortune.”

Gerard met them at the front door and opened the door for Kirsten. When the girl stepped out, he shot Jack a devilish, knowing grin. “Sir,” Gerard said formally, and Jack had to stifle a laugh, “might I suggest you retire to your cabana by the stone swimming pool. The cleaning crews are sweeping through the house and can be quite loud.”

Jack played along. “Thank you, Gerard,” he said in a haughty tone. “The lady and I would like a bottle of that wonderful ‘82 Merlot my father raves about, chilled with two glasses, and some assorted fruits and cheeses.”

Gerard nodded deeply. “I’ll have them sent down right away, sir.” And with that Gerard spun on his heels and walked away, purpose in his strong strides.

Kirsten was staring at Jack. “You have so much power,” she said breathlessly, and Jack again though her tone was odd. He was beginning to feel like something wasn’t right here. Suddenly she was upon him, sweeping forward, her body a hair’s breadth from his. Her breath smelled of peppermint.

“Take me to the cabana,” she whispered, and took his hand in hers.

The spot Gerard had recommended was a large one room, one bathroom canvas cabana by the side of one of the smallest but most secluded pools in the whole mansion. A mix of stone overhands, natural forest growth, and dark blue tile, the pool practically blended into the surrounding scenery. A series of waterfalls spilled over into the ten-foot deep deep end, and a pair of Jacuzzis, one atop a fifteen foot high naturally designed stone hill overlooking the pool and the other among the tall grass near the shallow end added that little something extra. Simply stated, the spot was paradise.

Kirsten gasped when she saw it. Her breathing had grown quicker and quicker since they arrived at the house, her breasts heaving back and forth. Jack felt it his duty as host to admire them as they did so.

“It’s beautiful,” she cooed, her eyes riveted.

He led her into the cabana, where they adjourned to the couch, a plush white linen piece as soft as the bristles of a feather. Kirsten crossed her legs—angled towards him—with her body leaned forward. She looked like a golden goddess and Jack felt the bulge in his pants grow thicker. He watched her intently.

“So, Jack, what do you want to do now that we’re alone?” she asked with an angelic expression on her face.

He didn’t have to answer. Someone called to them from outside and moments later, Gerard entered with a platter of cheese and fruit and the bottle of wine. Setting it down on the table, he flashed Jack another grin, and left.

“The servants work fast around here,” Kirsten noticed. “It must be nice to have servants.”

Again Jack thought something in her voice was odd. While his mind meditated on what it could be, the exterior side of Jack shrugged. “They’re more like my friends than servants.”

She giggled, possibly the sexiest sound he’d ever heard. “How sweet of you to say.”

Jack hesitated; something gnawed at the back of his brain. The situation, the beautiful girl, it all seemed too surreal—something had to be driving it other than simple, old-fashioned human attraction. Jack needed to know what it was. Quietly he mouthed the words to the ‘state of mindlessness’ spell.

One moment the girl was a bubbly ball of giggles, the next a complete blank. Her eyes glazed over and her limbs fell from their positions into a totally relaxed state.

“Kirsten, why are you here?” Jack figured this was the simplest way to learn the truth.

The girl answered in the same monotone voice Jack had become so familiar with from Heidi and Megan. “Because you have money.”

Jack felt the breath go out of him. He slumped back in his chair, feeling for all the world like a forty-pound bumblebee had just stung him in the stomach. He mind spared his heart and loins the agony and spoke bluntly: the girl was a gold digger. She was here simply for material gain.

“Kirsten,” Jack asked dejectedly, “do you have any interest in me other than for my family’s wealth?”

“Wealth and fame are the only things I look for in a man.” That helped a little; at least Jack was not the only one.

“Do you find me physically attractive, Kirsten?” Jack leaned forward intently—his decision on how to handle the situation would be heavily swayed by her answer.

“Yes,” she answered, “you are good looking.”

Jack smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. At least this wasn’t a total hatchet job. Now that he had his base information, however, Jack needed to know some specifics. “What are you planning to do today, Kirsten? What are your intentions with me?”

“To tease you,” she replied in the same flat voice. “Kiss a little bit and let your feel my body, until you promise to take me out to a fancy restaurant. The more I get, the more I give.”

“What do you know about me, Kirsten?”

“I know you have worked a lot with your father, which means you have a great deal of self-earned money at only 18 years old. Two cars, the Escalade from your father and an old Suburban you bought yourself. No girlfriend, limited sexual experience. You should be easy to control, but you’ve been harder than I thought.”

“What have other guys given you in return for your company?”

“Diamonds, cash, clothes, expensive jewelry,” she replied. “Anything I want.”

Jack decided it was time to teach this girl a lesson. He would dandle his money in front of her like a carrot on a stick, and see how far the little seductress would go. He grinned devilishly—it was going to be a long afternoon.

Kirsten giggled again as she laughed at Jack’s joke, and then for some odd reason could not for the life of her remember what it had been. She kept giggling, however, and tossing her hair, and dropped her hand on his leg. This was a classic move in the flirtation game, and she was a veteran player.

“So you like my house, then, and my servants?” Jack asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I love it,” she sighed longingly. “It must be wonderful to live here.”

“Yes, wonderful. I have everything I could ever want, including a popular car. Do you like my car?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, not catching the odd edge to his voice.

Jack put his hands behind his head and leaned back on the couch. She leaned back with him, arching her back to push out her breasts. She knew this drove men crazy, but Jack seemed to be handling her advances calmly—almost as if he didn’t notice them, or if he expected them. The former, most certainly, she thought—guys were too stupid and tits-happy to have some sort of ulterior motive.

“I don’t really like it too much,” he admitted, and she nearly fell over. Not like it! How could somebody not like a 2000 Escalade. “I’m thinking of selling it, or giving it away to someone. Maybe someone I really like.”

Kirsten’s jaw dropped. The words echoed through her head: giving it away. “And who might you like enough to give a brand new Escalade too?”

“Someone who would appreciate it, certainly,” Jack said with a grin. “Would you appreciate it, Kirsten?”

Kirsten was speechless. Never before had a man surprised her so much. Never before had a man offered, even offhandedly, to give her his car—and this on the first date. Had she been thinking clearly, she might have realized how odd the situation truly was. But dollar signs blinded her vision. “Yes,” she finally forced out, her voice ragged. Holy shit! she thought—Jack Cutter was an absolute gold mine.

“How would you show me your appreciation?”

She smiled, her composure back in balance as the common thread connecting all men reared its ugly head. Men were the ultimate pleasure-seekers. Her last conquest, the brain-dead high school quarterback/trust-find baby Chip Townsend, had wanted sex, but she only provided sex to the rich older men she met on the weekends for one night stands. No man had taken her more than once, and the ones who were allowed that one opportunity never squandered it—they had given her the biggest, most expensive and luxurious gifts of all. But no one had ever given her a car . . . the very thought of it made her dizzy.

She leaned forward and flicked her wet tongue across his ear. Her honey-filled words came in a whisper. “Use your imagination, Jack.”

Jack turned to face her, his eyes piercing her deeply. She was actually becoming very aroused by the thought of all the beautiful things she could get him to buy.

Jack on the other hand was becoming very aroused at the thought of what this girl would do, simply to obtain a few simple luxuries. He wanted to clap himself on the back right then and there. He had her right where he wanted her. Who knows how many lives the little mantrap had irreparably damaged with her sexual teasings and ministrations? He would teach her a lesson in humility on behalf of all the men she had manipulated.

He wondered how bold she would get if properly enticed. “I imagine us together next Friday night for caviar at the Martini Lounge, followed by a stop at Ben Allen’s store in the city, and then some dinner and dancing at The Cardigan. The limo can take us, I don’t feel like driving on such a night.”

Kirsten’s hand trembled against his leg. “The Martini Lounge is the hippest club in town,” she told him, voice wavering. “Ordinary people never get in and I don’t even have a fake I.D.”

Jack waved a hand dismissively. “Not to worry, I’ll take care of it.”

His eyes sparkled, and she felt almost light-headed as her imagination ran wild with thoughts of how luxurious and fabulous the night would be, brushing elbows with the rich and famous and societal elite. Jack’s warm hand on her elbow broke her from her daze, and she realized she better get her act together or she would lose this cool fish for good.

She scooted closer to him and laid her hands gently against his chest. Men were usually putty in her hands by now, but for some strange reason Jack Cutter was able to control himself. She had to admit, meeting someone with so much control was actually turning her on.

“I suppose I would be very appreciative if you took care of it, Jack.” Her wet, hot breath swept over his ear in a whisper and he shivered, her first little victory. Knowing she finally got to him a little excited her, and sent a wave of thrilling warmth down her spine all the way to the growing tingle between her legs. She was getting herself all hot, something she rarely ever let happen.

She was practically on top of him, her hands on his chest, her knees brushing his thighs. She knew he was hers, she could see the thick bulge in his crotch straining against his pants. Then the most surprising thing happened—he stood up and walked away. Kirsten sat on the couch, primed and ready for action, and the frigging guy just walks away!

Jack grinned, his back hiding his face from her view, as he walked across the room to where the wine and cheeses lay. Gerard had already uncorked the bottle to let it breathe so Jack poured two full glasses and made his way back to the couch. He knew the girl would be confused, and that was exactly the way he wanted her. Confused and excited, the perfect combination. He handed her the glass and she took it, her face still showing small signs of her disbelief. He raised his glass and smiled.

“To wealth and beauty,” he declared, “and also good fortunes.” She blushed shyly, as sure a sign of regained composure as ever there was, and clinked her glass against his. Jack had to hand it to himself—he didn’t think Kirsten Poole had ever found herself in quite a situation as the one she was in right now. That would add to Jack’s advantage.

He drained the glass in one long gulp and looked over at Kirsten expectantly. Too bad, he thought, the wine was excellent, but he was not wine tasting today—today every act had a specifically designed purpose. Kirsten looked back hesitantly, but when Jack smiled, she began drinking heavily from her own glass. She finished it in short order, and Jack rose to pour them two more glasses.

When he returned, he smiled and raised his glass again. “To new friends,” he pronounced, his eyes intertwined with hers. “May you live in the lap of luxury forever, Kirsten Poole.” They clinked glasses to seal the toast, and began sipping—slowly this time—from the wine.

Kirsten felt warm all over her body; warm from the wine, warm from the prospects of expensive gifts, and warm from her own genuine arousal at the unique situation. Her face was flushed and she shifted her legs to combat the uncomfortable wetness rapidly gaining size between her legs.

None of this was lost on Jack; the girl was ready. It was time for the final phase of his plan.