The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Author’s note. This novel is pure fantasy and if you can’t realize the difference between fantasy and real life seek psychological help. Don’t read further if you’re under age and be aware that this mind control story focuses on dominance, humiliation and submission: you can expect very little romance, if any.

Copyright © 2014 Submeat! (editing by Malos) Few rights reserved (this work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike License).

Do you mind if I brain?

VI. Showdown and outflanking manoeuvre

— “So, Jason, here we are”—she begins as I close the apartment door and I sit down on the chair next to it.

— “Sarah, I don’t know what this charade means, but I...”

— “Shut up! You will speak when it’s time to give answers” — she cuts my words short — “For the moment be quiet and listen to what I have to say.”

I’m taken aback for her hostility: I expected that she has called to beg me to help her again with her orgasmic disorder! Disappointed and powerless, I decide to get closer to her so that she will dwell within the range of my mind control talent. Hence, I stand up from the chair mimicking sincere concern about how she is treating me and take a step forward.

— “Sarah, this is humiliating and ridiculous... now I will join you in the living room, sit at your table and we both can relax and talk like good f...”

Wrong move. I hear a muffled thud and feel a rush of air next to my left ear. Before I can understand what has happened she speaks again.

— “The next shot will hit your left leg. Don’t get me angry, Jason. Be a good boy: keep calm, sit down and listen to me.”

I fall back in the chair, white as a sheet. While I look at the small hole in the plaster at my back, all I’m able to think is: this woman has gone completely crazy!

— “Ok... ok... I’ll sit and listen to you. There’s no need for you to shoot again.”

— “Very well. So, where do we get started? I’ve thought a lot about what happened to me during the last week: so many strange things broke through my life and I’m a police officer, you know, and as they say, three clues makes evidence...”

She takes a pause, as if she’s testing my willingness to listen in silence. My mouth is sealed, so she goes on.

— “First of all, some things about you are quite odd. You say you are a bungee jumper, but of course, you don’t have the physique du role. Secondly, I’ve checked all the photos that I have in my pc in the folder “Navajo Bridge”, but your face doesn’t appear in any group shot. Thirdly, there was a significant coincidence in timing between my troubles and your coming: or my horoscope of the past week was particularly unlucky, or it’s plausible that you played some role in what happened to me. Lastly, you are a middle aged man, fairly unattractive if not repulsive. Look at yourself: you are a very short, spindly-legged, ugly man, lacking of any muscle mass. Your have a receding hairline, some wrinkles on your face, a stubby nose and dead fish eyes. How can a woman possibly look at you with any sexual interest? Moreover, how can a woman fall in love with you in one night? And to make matters worse, you’re quite old, almost twenty years older than me!”

— “Ok, Sarah, you’ve made your point: I’m horribly ugly. Moreover, I must be a jinx. Thank you for your kindness” — I joke, trying to dissemble how much her words hurt me. In her eyes, I’m something just above a hominid, like Australopithecus afarensis or similar.

— “You’re not funny. Stay on the facts: what do you have to say?”

— “I’m not a bungee jumper, but I love bungee jumping: can you see the difference? Moreover, I surely was at Navajo bridge, in fact you remembered my name before I told you!”

— “Mphh, and this brings us to the second stage of my rumination. Some things about me are quite odd too, I mean, I passed the last week saying to myself what the hell I’m thinking and doing: this is not me! First of all, how could an orgasmic disorder appear so suddenly? I never had a climax problem before. And, incidentally, the same line of reasoning fits also for my recent migraine attack. Secondly, my mind seems to run on auto-pilot: when I’m about to cum I think of cockroaches climbing on my skin, I’m taunted by sexual fantasies concerning submission and male feet, and I have intrusive thoughts about loving and worshipping you. Thirdly, it appears really inexplicable why my sexual drive during our last night together looked a lot like that of a bitch in heat. Lastly, I clearly remember that I always thought that tallness was the sexiest physical feature of a man and now it’s completely indifferent to me. Strange, isn’t it?”

— “I don’t understand what you expect to demonstrate with all this delirious reasoning.”

— “Oh... I believed a person with your mind control abilities should be smarter” — she says grinning.

I remain silent for a while, trying to reorganize my thoughts, then I decide to negate the evidence.

— “Overstress is probably interfering with your mental clarity, Sarah. I’m seriously concerned about this.”

— “Do you think I’m stupid, Jason? I triple checked every other explanation to no avail.”

— “Oh my God! I’m afraid you’ve watched too much X-Files on television. Perhaps I must call you agent Scully.”

I see a hint of uncertainty in her eyes: probably her scientific approach to reality makes it difficult for her to accept the right deduction about my mind control powers. I take the chance to argument against it.

— “Be rational, Sarah. Ghosts, paranormal phenomena and science fiction are all fascinating, but reality is another thing. I’m surprised that your scientific approach to reality could even consider such a ridiculous explanation.”

— “Yes, but...”

— “Now, if you can, try to listen to me for a while. You’re overstressed. You fainted. Doctors confirmed the diagnosis: overstress. And stressful events can affect normal brain functions and cause re-emergence of a phobia, physical and sexual disorders, migraine attacks and mental illness like mania, hallucinations and emotional or behavioural disorders. Every symptom you’ve listed can be scientifically explained. Moreover, whereas your conscious mind refuses to accept this, your subconscious have realized what you need: can it be that the affection you’re feeling for this ugly man depends on your inner thoughts? Perhaps your subconscious is aware that I have helped you and that I’m the only one around who can get you out of this dead end...”

Hit, but not sunk: even if Sarah can’t deny that my explanation is the only rational one, she has an ace up her sleeve. On the contrary, I wrongly convince myself to have her again under my influence and I stand up from the chair.

— “Now, for your own good, let me sit with you in the living room and let’s try to resume our teamwork from where we left off a week ago.”

— “Sit down! Sit down again or I swear I’ll shoot you!!” — she yells at me.

I obey, shocked by her over-reacting.

— “I admit that your explanation is... more rational than mine, but my female instinct or perhaps my sixth sense, choose what you prefer, tells me there’s something more. I mean, I’m probably at safe distance now, but in the recent past we were really close... and when I bring to mind the memories of that circumstances I can sense both your physical and... mental presence.”

— “Maybe you’re overreacting to stress so that you’re convincing yourself that you see the Madonna is weeping.”

— “Maybe not... anyway, I’m curious to see how can you explain this. As I’ve told you, during that particular evening, a week ago, my sexual arousal was building beyond anything I had ever experienced in my life. Strange, isn’t it?”

— “It was a consequence of brain hyper-excitability after migraine attack. My mother...”

— “Yes, I know, your mother blah blah blah... Anyway, I took an aspirin, do you remember? Mmmmh... maybe in the glass there was something else? Maybe I brought the glass to the scientific police department and guess what they found?”

Fuck! The bitch is even sharper than what I already supposed! I keep my mouth shut to check if she is bluffing.

— “So? You’ve lost your tongue? Well, I will make it easier for you: no need to guess, I’m going to tell you. MJ101, a chemical extract derived from Bongkat Alli, a tropical plant used as an aphrodisiac. You drugged me, Jason. How can I trust you, now?”

In a few seconds I review all the possible answers and I come to the decision that confessing is the best option.

— “I implore you to forgive me, Sarah, if you can. What I did is awful, but... you have to understand why I did it: although I was sure that I could help you, I wasn’t sure to have the chance to do it. Eh, by the way, if I am a mind controller, eh... why the hell I would need to drug you? Funny, isn’t it? Eh, eh.”

— “I’m not in laughing mood, right now, Jason. Try to better explain what is the meaning of this wordplay: sure, not sure, bah...”

— “I’m an ugly man, as you’ve kindly remarked before: consequently, I wonder if, without the push of the aphrodisiac, you would have let me help you in achieving orgasm. If you were as unfriendly as you are right now, I highly doubt that...”

— “I can arrest you.”

— “Sarah, be honest: surely, you were not raped. Moreover, I didn’t force you in any way: everything was set in motion by you begging me to help you with your clogged-up climax. Then, to reciprocate, again it was you and only you who took the initiative both with the handjob and the blowjob.”

— “That was not me! I was under the effect of the drug!”

— “I highly doubt any drug can denature or completely reverse the brain functions in a person. Behavioural changes deals, above all, with disinhibition or facilitation. Perhaps the truth is that the drug helped you to find what you’ve always hidden to yourself, that is, your sexy and submissive side.”

— “That’s not true! You’re trying to change me, I feel it. If it’s not mind control, than it’s hypnosis, neuro-linguistic programming or something like that.”

— “Bah... I’m sure your overstress is mainly due to your fixation to be always in control.”

— “Stop saying shit! Give me back my orgasm!” — she says, her voice trembling from despair.

— “You’re delirious, Sally. No one but you have taken away your orgasm: just you and your refusal to let go and flow along with the feelings in your heart.”

— “Stop it! I... I can arrest you! I can arrest you!!”

— “Yes you can, but you won’t do it. Firstly because in that case I will be forced to relate in great detail all our embarrassing sexual issues and everybody in police department would laugh at you. Secondly because no judge will prosecute me for making you climax by massaging your forehead. Lastly, because deep in your hart you know that I’ve acted only for your own good and you feel that I’m the only one who can help you again.”

— “Bullshit! The only thing I know for sure is that you drugged me and that you have a weird influence on me. Stay away from me, Jason, ok? Stay away!!”

It’s clear that with this discussion I’m not getting any results. Moreover, it’s not wise to argue with a person in evident distress who is menacing you with a revolver. So I decide for an outflanking manoeuvre.

— “Ok, Sarah, I will leave right now, since you say it’s what you want. My only regret is that you seemed a lot happier a week ago than now.”

And after that last nasty statement, I stand up and exit.

The next morning, I phone to the police station and ask to speak with Thomas.

— “Thomas, it’s Jason, Sarah’s friend. We met in the evening of Sarah’s faint, do you remember me?”

— “Yes of course.”

— “Thomas... I need to speak with you in private. It’s important. I’m extremely worried about Sarah.

— “Me too.”

— “Can we meet up at Henry’s pub tonight?”

— “Tonight it’s ok for me.”

— “Ok, so see you tonight at 10 pm.”

Henry’s pub is an old tavern in the centre of the town: high-quality whiskey, big wooden tables and relaxing music from good old times. We meet in the parking, get into the pub and find a corner table, a pretty quiet one.

— “We’ll go through Sarah issue in a moment, Thomas, but previously I’d like that we can talk a bit about ourselves: we barely know each other and we have to deal with very personal matters.”

— “Ok, that seems reasonable.”

— “And whiskey will surely help us to get in touch” — I say with a friendly smile.

I order two whiskey and set in motion my plan.

An hour later, Thomas is a bit drunk while I have secretly spilled on the floor all my five glasses of super-alcoholic: the situation is very favourable to slip in his brain and become allies.

— “Well, I think it’s time to talk about Sarah” — I say and then adjourned

him about the last events.

— “That’s... incredible: she... she shot you!”

— “Yes, she was delirious: she mumbled nonsense like mind control, aliens and she went so far as to say that I stole orgasm from her mind!! It would be laughable if it wasn’t dramatic...”

— “It’s... worse than I supposed... I’ve sensed her distress in the last days but I didn’t imagine the situation was so... dangerous” — he says, with slurred speech.

While we chat, I walk undisturbed around Thomas drunk mind: alcohol slows down neural activity and his brain pathways look like the empty streets of a town long after midnight. By means of a detailed search, I find his memories about a childhood friend, named Jason, and I link with my person his feelings towards the old times friend.

— “I’m sure you would never abandon a good old friend in need, Thomas. Will you help me?”

— “Of course... I’ll do anything I can.”

In addition, since any hidden feelings can be easily flushed out by asking directly to the right brain, I short circuit the corpus callosum so that Thomas mind can’t lie to me and analyze his affection towards Sarah. Not surprisingly, I discover he is still in love with her and I exploit the situation to full advantage. I connect his feelings for Sarah with the sad awareness that he wasn’t able to make her happy, whereas I am. If I help Jason, Sarah will be happy: only Jason can make her happy — I whisper to his mind — Obviously, I must help Jason because I’m happy if Sarah is happy. The idea takes hold immediately in his head: it’s easy to motivate altruistic love by manipulating people’s right brain. Lastly, I search Thomas mind for other childhood memories: I need to find a person who put him in awe. I hit upon a dreadful schoolteacher who addressed him with name, middle name and surname and scared him to death by shouting out loud and by whacking on his desk a bamboo stick. I reinforce Thomas psychological subjugation to that specific circumstances and wire it with hearing someone shouting out his full name aggressively.

— “Well, Thomas, it’s vital that you come with me to Sarah’s apartment: you will go first since I’m too much frightened by her shooting at me last time. She will let you in and I will remain in the shadows, protected by you. Of course, when she will be soothed by something as simple as your presence, I will talk with her. We have to convince her to call a psychiatrist and to take a week off to recover from overstress.”

— “I’m... at your command, brother, eh...” — he jokes with a broad smile, going ever so close to the truth.

— “I hope we will not need to physically confront her, but in any case I’ll have to count on your help because I do not have neither the body size nor the athleticism to face Sarah. Do you think you’re able to grab and hold her?”

— “Of couuurse, bro’... she won’t harm herself nor anyone elsssse...”

— “Ok... then we only have to fix the day of the rendezvous.”

To find a suitable evening when neither Sarah nor Thomas are on duty, we have to wait until Saturday, but the moment of reckoning eventually comes.

Thomas rings the bell.

— “Yes?”

— “It’s me, Thomas.”

— “Thomas? What’s happened?”

— “Nothing in particular, but I have to talk with you.”

— “Oh... ok.”

The gate opens and we reach the seventh floor.

I enter Sarah’s apartment behind Thomas and since he’s much taller and broad-shouldered than me, she spots me when I’m already in the living room.

— “Ahh! Why the fuck he’s with you? Keep him away from me, Thomas!”

— “Sarah, calm down, we’re here to help you” — I declare mimicking sincere concern.

— “Yes, Sarah, we’re here to talk with you... but why the hell are you so scared?” — asks a puzzled Thomas.

— “He’s... he’s a monster! He’s trying to control my thoughts! Stay away! Stay away!” — she screams with wide open eyes.

I throw a knowing glance at Thomas.

— “Sarah, you’re the only one who can control your mind” — I retort — “in fact it would be appropriate if you sit down, control your emotions and regain some rationality.”

Meanwhile, I blatantly enter her mind, making my presence as thunderous as possible and speak out loud to her conscious brain. Sarahhh!!! I’m Jason! I’m an alien coming from Mars and I will enslave youuuu

Sarah jumps back, quite startled.

— “Aahh!! Have you heard it?” — she asks Thomas with terrified voice — “He’s an alien coming from Mars!!”

I throw another knowing glance at Thomas.

— “I think it’s better to call a doctor, Sarah” — Thomas says, alarmed by the frenzy of her co-worker.

— “Thomas is right, Sarah. You can lie down in bed and calm down, while we call for qualified help” — I confirm taking her hand between mine.

Before I realize she has decided to attack me, she snaps sideways and hits me with a kick in my lower parts. I fall down to the floor.

— “Sarahh... ouuch.. that hurts a lot!” — I almost cry

— “Sarah! What the fuck... you’ve gone completely crazy?!!” — asks Thomas facing her.

— “Stay away! You’re backing him up! He has brainwashed you!”

With difficulty, I got up on my feet.

— “Thomas, I think there’s no other choice than to immobilize her and call an ambulance” — I say, charging up myself to be ready to hit them both with my blast of mental energy.

She pushes him away and Thomas reacts by grasping her arm and twisting it behind her. As a result, they start to grapple and I decide they’re so closely entangled that it’s my golden opportunity to knock out them both with my single shot.

Strike! They both lose consciousness and fall to the ground.

Puffing and panting I drag Sarah as a dead weight to her bed and throw her over it. She’s so sexy, lying unconscious in my power that I indulge in fondling her breasts. After a while, however, I realize that any attraction or love for Sarah is suffocated under the weight of the words she spoke so harshly some days ago: how can a woman possibly look at you with any sexual interest? What a bitch! With her overconfident and egoistic attitude, she surely has made me suffer as well as, previously, she made suffer Thomas and any other men who had the misfortune of falling in love with her; moreover to lock the circle, it’s evident that she made herself unhappy of her life, too. And since her high self-esteem is probably the prime mover of her willpower, it’s crucial to restructure it also for a successful reprogramming of her mind. I easily go down into her sleeping brain and evoke neural correlates of her self-image. I’m a gorgeous woman I whisper—I’m intelligent, strong and successful. As brain pathways wired to her haughtiness starts to fire, I spot a sub-cortical hub linked with the anterior cingulated cortex, the brain region processing social rejection, and invert its pattern of function: from now on, in response to evaluative appraisals she will always perceive a lower state self-esteem. To consolidate the rewiring, I decide to overwrite some of her childhood memories. I go down on Sarah infancy, searching for her first reminiscences, which are predictably easier to alter, and recall them in the form of vivid dreams. As the mental image of her mother appears in the dream and little Sarah is caught up in an everyday reverie, I speak with her mother voice. You’ve disappointed me again Sarah. I thought you were worthy of my love but I was completely wrong. You aren’t good at all, you’re not worth of my respect and consideration. I should stop caring at you: you aren’t good enough to earn my love; you aren’t good enough to earn any people’s love. I go on and on recalling memories and altering them by mortifying Sarah with the image of her mother cruelly and harshly reproaching her. To Sarah’s mind, everything feels authentic and no effort of will would ever be able to overcome a so deeply embedded trauma: will or not will, she will never be the same woman.