The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Note: all characters depicted in this story are over 18. Don’t try any of this at home. I hope you enjoy it, and send any feedback or suggestions for future expansion to .

[Chapter 19: Meeting Lauren’s supervisor]

I stood in my office, agonizing over what to do. In front of me was Jessica, my Mistress Lauren’s roommate, sprawled on my desk – naked, and in a deep hypnotic sleep. In my hand, I held Lauren’s pocketwatch, an item that both Jessica and I turned out to be extremely well-conditioned to respond to. I was only now aware of the full extent of the power the watch held, when Jessica had used it to hypnotize me and compel me to fuck her. That meant I had just cheated on Lauren, my Mistress, my girlfriend, the love of my life.

‘Should I blank her memory, or would that just make things even worse?,’ I wondered. Eventually, I decided to leave Jessica with no special posthypnotic suggestions; she would just wake up on her own in a few minutes and go home. As for me, I would have to leave the whole situation unresolved for now, and go home, and wait for Lauren to call me. After all, it was Lauren who trained me to obey whenever I saw her watch swing, and it was Lauren who had given Jessica the idea to have sex with me in the first place. Her actions led to this; surely she wouldn’t hold it against me, I thought.

Fingers trembling, I dialed Lauren’s number, cursing under my breath as it went to voicemail. She was studying in the library, of course, she would have her phone off. I left a message asking her to call me as soon as possible.

I needed to do something – what had just happened was too much to let go. The control Lauren had over me was too strong, it had gotten out of control. I decided to talk to her research supervisor, and dug through my email inbox looking for the name and number. To my surprise, Lauren’s advisor was a dean, the head of the university’s hypnosis research center: Dr. Kristina Einschlafern, Dean of Psychological Research. I took a deep breath and dialed the number listed.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Center for Hypnosis And Research on the Mind, this is Tina speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hi,” I began nervously, “I’m professor Belton, calling to speak with Dean Einschlafern.”

“Of course, Mr. Belton. May I ask what this is about?”

“A student of the dean’s, Lauren Meyers, and her independent research project on hypnosis. It’s somewhat urgent.”

“One moment, please.”

Waiting music played out of the earpiece for a few moments. It seemed a little different from normal waiting music—it had a lower, pulsing rhythm, a very repetitive kind of sound.

I grew so engrossed in thinking about why this music sounded odd that I was startled when a voice suddenly cut in at the other end of the line. It was a woman’s voice, low and almost sultry, with a slight accent that I couldn’t place.

“Hello, this is Dean Einschlafern. I am speaking with professor Derek Belton, yes?”

“Yes,” I replied unsteadily.

“It’s nice to hear from you, professor Belton. My assistant Tina tells me you needed to speak to me about Lauren Meyers, our mutual student. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” I said again, feeling more decisive this time.

“Okay, I’ve just pulled up her file here. What seems to be the trouble?”

“Well, Dean, it seems to me that Lauren’s independent research on hypnosis is raising some ethical questions. I think we need to put an end to this direction of research.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that you feel that way, professor. I’ve known Lauren since her first semester, and she has always been an outstanding student. I am personally over-seeing her research, and everything seems to be moving along nicely.”

“I’m not so sure...” I hesitated, realizing I was also not sure what to tell her if she asked for more information.

“Let me stop you there, professor Belton. I can hear a lot of tension in your voice, so clearly you think this matter is important. Let’s make an appointment to discuss it in person.”

“Okay,” I conceded, “but this is an urgent issue.”

“Very well, then. I have some time available at the end of the day today. Could you come to my office at 6:30?”

I checked the clock on my desk – it read 5:50. The Psychology facilities were all the way at the other end of campus, it would take me at least 30 minutes to get there.

“6:30 is fine,” I replied.

* * *

Dean Kristina Einschlafern was strikingly tall, with a trim, slender frame, and dark hair, and soft brown eyes. She was also much younger than I expected a dean to be – she was clearly still in her early 40’s, if not even younger. I heard her heels click on the marble floor as she stood and came over to greet me. I couldn’t help but notice the gentle, seductive way her hips swayed when she walked.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Dean Einschlafern. I’m Derek Belton.” I extended my hand to shake.

“Please, call me Kristina,” she said, shaking my hand softly. “Only students need to call me ‘Dean’ or ‘Doctor’. Please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable.” She had a slight accent, something European, but that I couldn’t really place.

I glanced around the office as she returned to her desk. It was a large room, but somewhat narrow. Dr. Einschlafern’s desk was at one end; the other end was dominated by a large, black leather-upholstered reclining chair. The office was decorated with an array of hypnosis-themed paraphernalia. A mix of pictures adorned the walls, including a painting of a swinging pocketwatch, and a large black-and-white photograph of a man who I recognized as Milton Erickson, sitting next to a woman with her eyes closed. A small shelf held a mix of large crystals & swing-arm metronomes, and even a black and white spiral-printed disc on a stand.

Dr. Einschlafern wheeled an imposing black leather executive chair out from behind her desk, and sat down, crossing her long legs. She motioned towards a comfortable-looking chair beside her, and I took a seat as well.

“So, what seems to be the matter, Derek?”

“Well, as I mentioned to you on the phone, there have been some ethical complications arising in Lauren Meyers’ research.”

“Her project on the limits of hypnotic suggestions? You are her outside advisor for this project, correct?”

“Yes.”

“What sort of problems have arisen?” She asked, eyebrows cocked quizzically.

“She implanted some triggers in one of her subjects, that someone else was able to use to trigger unacceptable behaviour.” I had spent an hour crafting that line, trying to come up with phrases that would convey the scope of my concern without giving too much information away.

“I see. Which of her subjects was it?”

I racked my brain, trying to decide how much to tell her. I had to let the bombshell drop.

“Well, I’m embarrassed to say so, but it was actually me. Lauren has been hypnotizing me. Repeatedly.”

“Yes, I know that.” The dean was completely unsurprised. I was incredulous.

“You knew the whole time?!” I asked, astounded.

“Of course,” she replied, and reached over and plucked a sheet of paper from an open manilla folder lying on her desk. “I have here a waiver, signed by you, that declares your acknowledgement of this experiment, and your consent to participate in it.”

She handed it to me. I read the start of the page:

“I, _Derek Belton_, hereby give my consent to _Lauren Meyers_ to put me under hypnosis as part of an experiment for the Center for Hypnosis and Research on the Mind (henceforth, ‘CHARM’). I acknowledge that the experimenter named above may need to hypnotize me repeatedly as needed, and that this may involve stealth hypnotic inductions or other instances in which I may enter hypnosis without being consciously aware of doing so. I understand that I will not be physically harmed in any way during the course of this experiment, and that the results will be published and presented only as anonymous data. My name and other personal information will not be shared with anyone other than the individual(s) involved in this experiment, and any information that I share with the experimenter while under hypnosis will be kept strictly confidential.”

It went on and on, more fine print.

“That is your signature, is it not?” the dean asked.

My name was at the bottom, in my handwriting, and signed.

“Yes,” I said, “But this makes no sense, I don’t ever remember signing this! And even if I did, I think what she’s done is STILL in violation of the rules defined on this paper.”

“This sounds like a very serious allegation, Derek,” Dr. Einschlafern replied, her brow furrowed. She wrote something down in a pad on her lap. “But unfortunately I can’t draw any conclusions without more information. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I’m really not comfortable sharing all of the details.” I hesitated, struggling for some way to convey the magnitude of the situation without spilling details that might get me in trouble.

“But, what happened is she conditioned me to respond to a trigger object, which her roommate used earlier today to hypnotize me against my will. I think she’s clearly lost control of the scope of her project, and something needs to be done about it.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Derek,” the dean replied. “What Lauren is working on is truly groundbreaking research, the kind that has never been done before in the history of the study of hypnosis. She is a true prodigy, years ahead of where she should be at this stage in her career. It would be a great loss for science if I had to end her study early just because of a very minor accident. From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like the problem is worth that cost.”

“You don’t understand, Doctor. This is a dangerous situation, and it needs to be stopped, immediately!” I cried desperately, raising my voice more than I meant to.

Dr. Einschlafern took a deep breath before responding, as if trying to calm me down by example. She spoke quietly.

“Honestly, professor Belton, it sounds like you’re a little confused. And that’s perfectly natural, I have to say. It happens a lot here: someone, usually a man, like yourself, but sometimes a woman, calls up to express concern, or outrage, or sometimes even devotion, but just as soon as they dialed the number they realize that they’re not quite sure what they were so concerned about, or why they were so stressed, and anxious and worried. So they relax, and decide to just listen for a moment and calm down until they can remember what they were so aroused about. Maybe they remember that they signed a consent form, or not, or maybe they remember what it said, or they don’t, or maybe they start to remember that they really didn’t sleep well the night before, and suddenly notice that they are very very tired, and they can easily over-react.”

‘Huh?’, I thought, now actually feeling confused. She was talking fast, too fast for me to follow the logic of what she was trying to say. I opened my mouth to say something, looking for a chance to interrupt, but there were simply no breaks in her speech. I sat there, waiting for a single pause to give me a window to jump in.

“I know how overworked the younger faculty members are here, how little sleep they get, how heavy the workload must feel on your tired, sagging shoulders. There’s so much responsibility, and it’s so much easier to just let go. But you can’t let go, not until you’re given permission by someone above you – like a senior professor, or maybe a dean, perhaps, someone like me – to tell you that it’s safe and permitted for you to let go and relax and take a nice little breather, or a nap. And you haven’t been given that signal yet. So you have to struggle on, even though you’re so tired, everything feels so heavy, but your tired eyes can’t close and sleep until someone above you, like me, says it’s okay. Because you’re just a junior professor, you’re obligated to do what higher-ranked faculty members tell you. It doesn’t matter if they’re wrong, or right, or how much you don’t want to do it – or maybe you DO want to do what they say, or DO want to simply have no thoughts in your head other than doing what you’re told, and if that’s true then it’s so much easier to just let your tired mind follow along where I tell it to go because that’s what you want to do and that’s what you’re supposed to do anyway.”

The hypno-fetishist in me knew exactly what was happening, recognized in an instant that this was the start of stealth induction. I felt a faint glimmer of worry, but it was quickly over-ruled by excitement – my inevitable reaction to knowing that I was about to be hypnotized.

“Well, if you’re so tired, and you really need a break to rest, then I think you should take one. Don’t you agree? I’m sure you agree, since I can see your eyelids drooping already. And that’s wonderful, it’s wonderful to agree with me, because you’re supposed to agree with me, and because you yourself actually do want to agree with me. It feels so good to agree with what I say, and it’s so easy to do because you’ve noticed how easy it is to listen to my voice, and how much you like the sound of it. So, naturally, what it’s saying sounds good to you. So for example if I were to tell you to sleep right now, you would do exactly that, because you know that you need to sleep, and it feels good to sleep, and it feels good to do what you’re told, and you’re supposed to do what I tell you, and you want to do what I tell you to do, and now I’m telling you to sleep...”

* * *

The rest of the meeting was a blur to me. And then it was over. Dr. Einschlafern thanked me and stood up, and so I did the same, taking it as my cue to leave.

“Well, Derek, it was a pleasure to finally actually meet you,” she said. “Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention, and I will consider it, and meet with Lauren to re-assess her research, and then we can discuss what to do next to resolve the situation in the best way possible.”

“Thank you, Dr. Einschlafern.” I replied. “The sooner this is resolved, the better.”

I found myself sitting in my car, in the parking lot outside of the main psychology building on campus, feeling frustrated with myself for not paying more attention. I knew I had told Dean Einschlafern that Lauren’s research needed to be shut down. I tried to reconstruct the key points of her response, but I simply couldn’t remember any more of the content of what we had talked about.

I started the car and, with an exhausted sigh, began thinking about the next step: talking to Lauren.

* * *

I arrived at my house, and right as I was opening my front door, I felt my cell phone buzzing in my pocket. It was Lauren’s number. The phone didn’t even finish the first ring before I picked up.

“Derek?” I heard Lauren’s voice on the other end. She sounded upset. This didn’t bode well...

“Lauren, thank god you called me, we need to talk.”

“Derek, what the FUCK?!??” she screamed.

“Lauren, no, please, just give me––” I begged for a chance to explain, but she cut me off.

“Jessie told me what happened, what you did with her. How could you!”

“What did she tell you? Mistress, please, I don’t love anyone but you!”

“I love you Derek, how could you do this to me?!” I could hear the pain in her voice, and wished she could see the look on my face.

“I didn’t want to!” I cried desperately.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said flatly. “I really don’t want to talk to you now Derek. We’re through.”

I heard a click as she hung up, and was horrified. Was that it? Really? Had the woman I loved just dumped me? The pain in my heart shifted to anger. She had no right to do that, it was HER fault!

The rest of that night was the most upset I had ever been. I seethed, I paced, I yelled, until eventually I wore myself out and broke down on the couch. That’s when I heard a jingle in my pocket; I reached in and felt Lauren’s watch. In all the frustration of the night’s events, I had forgotten that I still had it. I pulled it from my pocket, and held it up. This was the little piece of machinery that had caused me so much trouble.

Part of me wanted to get a hammer and take my anger out on the watch. But at the same time, I felt my cock twitching. In spite of everything, even just looking at the watch dangling there, it still turned me on. I held it up to the light, and set it swinging, watching for the familiar sparkle I knew it would send out at the top of each arc. My eyes locked onto it automatically, and merely noticing myself having that reaction set my cock to growing more, getting throbbingly hard.

Before I knew it, I had my cock in my hand, and was stroking furiously. No matter how much it cost me, I knew the mere idea of being hypnotized by Lauren’s watch would always hold some power over me. And right now, I thought, resisting it would take much more than I felt like giving. I spent the rest of that night masturbating, just sitting there, swinging the watch in front of my own eyes as thoughts of my Mistress Lauren drove me to orgasm after orgasm until I eventually passed out.

[end of chapter 19]