The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Learning a Lesson

I was a pushy bottom who was good at getting my way. You could say I was selfish and you’d be right. Sex, like everything else, was about me. I made the limits and they always favored my pleasure. Sure, I had my kinks, who doesn’t? But that’s part of my selfish charm. I had mine and wasn’t really interested in anyone else’s. You might wonder what they were, but generally I was slow to talk about them. Over time, though, they became such a part of me that I developed a bit of a reputation for them. I mean, what’s the use for kink if you can’t experience it?

Did I mention I’m that guy? Yeah, you know the one. Blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and a sculpted body I got while breaking countless hearts at the gym. There’s something about a perpetual just-got-out-of-bed look that drives men wild, and I used it to my advantage. Being 23 helps, too, because I’m young and desirable instead of some young-at-heart has been who does everything he can to hold on to youth. Sure, I have my faults, but they’re all a part of the act. I usually tell people I’m shy. You’d be surprised how that only drives them wilder. They really want my ass, but when you’re me, you don’t just give it away. I don’t do random hookups, but I like to flirt. Lead them on, what’s the harm? Sure, I’m cocky, but they never knew that. I’d downplay myself just to let them build me up. It felt good. Manipulation always does.

In chatrooms, they’d see my pic and the i.m.s would start coming. They wanted me to turn on my cam and sometimes I would. I could tell in the first few lines what kind of guys they were. I wanted a man, a real man. Someone to dominate me and take control on my terms. Some guy who calls me fierce isn’t that man. Neither is someone who calls me hot. They’re stating the obvious but using the wrong words. I was more than just a pretty face. That’s why I was so surprised the night I met him. Maybe it was because I was feeling pretty good already. My ego had been pumped hard that night and I was enjoying the fact that at least four guys were jerking off to me all because I had my cam on and was smoking a big cigar and smiling through the smoke. They kept typing how hot I was, but I already knew that. I may claim shyness, but I know how to handle myself on cam, especially when I’m smoking. Yeah, that’s one of my kinks. I like smoking cigars as much as I like to watch someone else who knows how to smoke cigars smoke. If you want to know the truth, it bores me when people try and understand it or want to talk to me about it. Cigars can be very sexy, it’s as simple as that. They can be a turnoff, too, when someone tries to smoke one and really doesn’t know what he’s doing. You know the type, they’ll hold it all wrong or not know how to pace themselves. I’m embarrassed for them because it’s obvious to anyone who really smokes cigars how it’s supposed to be done.

It’s not that I let my guard down with him, it’s more that I was somewhat worn away by that point, so when his message popped up and he didn’t call me hot or fierce or even ask me to open my cam, he intrigued me. We shot the breeze and when he told me he’d just come from dinner, I asked where. He named a restaurant that was three blocks away and my heart skipped a beat. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a city boy and every city boy knows it’s a big city. My profile didn’t give my location and neither did his. I played it cool and we continued chatting. I liked this guy but he wasn’t going about things in a way that I was used to. Don’t forget, a pushy bottom is also a well-scripted bottom. I could tell a million different people the same story and leave them all feeling like they were the only one I’d ever told. So, with him, I attempted to set things back to the pattern. I sent an invitation for him to view my cam. He accepted and commented on my cigar. He saw the band and asked if I’d tried other ones. I had. He said I looked good with it and he closed the cam. The guy closed my cam! If I knew then what I know now, that would have been enough to start me running. I should have run away, but as things would end up, I ran to him instead.

We talked some more about cigars and I said it sounded like he knew a lot about them. He told me that he’d been smoking them for most of his life. That was a point in his favor even if I didn’t know anything else about him. I asked what he liked to do while he smoked, which is a fair question if one of your kinks is smoking. He told me it was an interesting question to ask, then he answered. “Sometimes,” he typed, “it’s enough to sit and smoke.” I knew exactly what he meant. “Other times, I like to blow the smoke at my cock and let it have some.” I really knew what he meant. “This might sound odd, but sometimes I like to use my cigar to hypnotize guys.” If I’d been paying attention to my dick before that moment, cum would have sprayed all over the place. I hadn’t been, but the instant he typed those words, my pants got tighter and my shorts got a little wet. “That’s cool.” I typed, half in disbelief that here was a guy who had talked about not one but both of my kinks. You guessed it, the other one is hypnosis. I don’t have a clue as to why the two of them go together, but they do.

I thought it would seem too obvious to say that I had an interest in hypnosis at that point, so I started to change the subject when he told me that he needed to be going. I thanked him for the chat and he said it’d be great if we could chat more sometime. Reflexively I typed “We’ll see.” That’s pushy bottom talk for “It’s never going to happen,” and the way I ended most of the chats with guys wanting more. I quickly typed the next line: “I hope it’s soon” and he logged out. No cam request and when I offered, he didn’t keep watching, no buddy request, he’s into smoke, into hypnosis, and he lives nearby. What the fuck?!

I was online the next night waiting for him to come around. He didn’t, not then. Or the next night. Or the next. In fact, it was two weeks before I saw him online again and believe me, I’d looked. I’d looked all around in the meantime to see if I could find out anything else about him, but there was nothing. When you’re like me, you know all about the value of mystery and you work it to your favor. Always. I’ll be damned if this guy hadn’t one-upped me there. When we did talk again, at first he didn’t recall who I was. The nerve! That never happens. People remember me and seek me out. I reminded him who I was and told him I was curious about hypnosis and how he used it. He asked me what I knew about it and I lied. I told him I didn’t know much, but I knew a lot because it had been an idea that I’d beat off to for as long as I could remember. As much as I knew about cigars, I knew more about hypnosis but had never had the kind of scene I wanted that combined them. I told him I was curious what he looked like and he said he didn’t send pics. I said that was fine so I was surprised when he invited me to view his cam. He wasn’t going to win any contests for his looks, but he wasn’t bad. What made him better was that he had similar interests as me and, as selfish goes, that’s very important.

He asked me what I liked about hypnosis and I gave him a pretty standard response: the ability to lose control and be under someone else’s for a while. He said he understood that desire and had seen it happen on many occasions. I was rock hard, but I told him I really didn’t think I was hypnotizable. All he typed was, “you’d be surprised at what you can do if you put your mind out of it.” Then, I did something I’ve never done before. I asked if I could add him to my buddy list and he said I could. People add me for Chrissakes. That’s how it works. Not this time.

We chatted over the next few weeks several times and I liked the way he stayed different from most of the others I’d chat with. I felt comfortable in my chats with him and looked forward to them. He told me stories about stuff he’d done that was pretty intense. After about a month, I went out on a limb and reminded him that the first time we chatted, he’d just got in from Basso’s. I asked him if he meant the one on 56th. He told me it was and asked why. That’s when I told him I lived nearby the place. He said that was a nice thing to learn and that we should meet. I agreed that we should. We set things up for Saturday at the Sixth Ward.

Yeah, I know, meeting people from online isn’t something a shy guy does. But I was over that act. What frustrated me more is that meeting someone from online is not what a pushy bottom does. I tease and talk but I get my action elsewhere. It’s a tidy little arrangement I have with a friend. He takes care of my needs and I take care of his. It’s safe in every sense of the word and I like it like that. I have no problem letting other people know it, too. And I would let this guy know if it looked like anything was going to go down, but this was just a chance to meet and talk.

I looked good that night, though it took a while to get my hair perfectly messy. Black sweater and jeans. The smoke from my cigar would contrast nicely against the sweater. Trust me, you think about things like that if you’re me. My mirror knows me well and I can tell you what my face looks like if I’m happy, sad, surprised, mad. You name it, I’ve practiced them all. Smoking, too, and I know how to make it sexy or make it reserved. It’s all a part of who I’ve let myself become and the payoff is sweet because people want me. I got there first to get the table I wanted on the patio where the light was just right. I ordered a pint of Guinness and pulled out a cigar, CAO Brazilia Amazon, maduro, nothing too showy but a good smoke. That’s the thing with cigars, it’s easy enough to get lost in them. Yeah, it sounds silly to talk about all the flourishes like drawing it under your nose, but there’s a richness there. The touch of your hand on the leaf, the feel of the slight oily texture. I’d been smoking a little while when he walked onto the patio. I put the cigar down and stood up. He picked it up, and in the midst of puffing on it, turned to me in a way that would look to anyone behind me that he was shaking my hand. He wasn’t. He grabbed my balls through my jeans and squeezed so it took everything I had to stay standing and not fall to my knees. In the whiteness of pain flashing through me, he exhaled into my face and said “Do you trust me, boy?” With that, he let go and sat down. My cock was pushing against my shorts while the rest of my body was trying to return to normal from the pain. This was my second chance to get away, but I sat down and finished my pint. I didn’t know if the look on my face was contempt or infatuation but I didn’t say a word even to tell him that I didn’t trust him or anyone else for that matter.

“You’ve finished your beer. Good. Your place or mine?”

I thought he was kidding. Regardless it wasn’t going to be my place. My place was, well, mine. Everything had its place, including the people I brought to it and I hadn’t imagined him there and wasn’t about to start. I called the waitress over and ordered another Guinness, took my cigar from the table, and ask what he’d be having. He ordered the same.

“That’s quite a way to say hello.” I said. This time he didn’t respond. “Look,” I said, “I thought this would be a good idea to meet and chat, you know, face to face.” That’s when he interrupted me.

“Oh, I know,” he began, “and you’ll tell me how you’re not looking for anything when really you want me to hypnotize you. You’ll tell me that you’re not looking for sex and that you have limits. You’ll tell me more about your interest in hypnosis when all you’ll really do is say the same thing you told me before, but you won’t tell me how hard you are right now. Will you?” It was like he was reading my mind. “I know that you don’t want to hear this, but the fact is that you’re just like every other boy I’ve ever taken control of. I know you just like I know them. And I know you don’t trust me.” With that, he reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigar, lighted it, and thanked the waitress for his drink. Man, could he smoke. I thought I had style, but I had nothing on him. Still, he’d basically told me that I was nothing special when he didn’t know me at all. I was torn and at my third chance to run, but I stayed and we talked and smoked for about an hour and a half before going back to his place.

Nothing makes a pushy bottom more nervous than the feeling that he’s not in control and yet here I was at this guy’s apartment listening to him tell me what he was going to do to me. “Don’t think of it as hypnosis tonight so much as an exercise in relaxation,” he said, “oh, and take off your clothes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Strip, boy.”

“Look, I’m not going to...”

“Of course not, so just unbuckle that belt and unbutton those jeans. I’m not going to do anything that’s going to put my health at risk. I don’t know where you’ve been, but I know that it’s not going to leave either of us worse for wear when I make you cum.” Now that’s pushy, but it fit with my terms so I did just that. “Do you have another cigar?” I did. “You’re going to want to smoke it, boy, but here’s how: you’re not to take it out of your mouth. You’ll just smoke. I’ll take care of the rest. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” I lighted the cigar and through the smoke asked “Now what?”

“Lie down.” I did. “Close your eyes now, and just smoke for me.” He proceeded to talk to me and after a while, I felt him reach into my shorts and pull out my cock. In that moment it was like everything was working together, the smoking, the stroking, his words, me, and suddenly, even though I was the one in charge of myself, everything started to feel distant. He’d asked a few questions and suddenly I noticed that my answer sounded far away and quiet. I was focused on the way my mouth said the word, the way my lips parted around my cigar and I answered “yes.” I couldn’t see the smoke I was exhaling, but I could feel it and after that I felt the cigar taken from my mouth and then, a moment later, put back. The next thing I remember, my eyes sprung open and I reached up to take the cigar out of my mouth. It was like I couldn’t do it fast enough, even though my mouth was pulling in more smoke.

“Please let me cum” I begged.

“What’s that, boy?”

“Please, may I cum?”

“Smoke, boy.” Automatically, I let the cigar go back to my lips and I inhaled. I relaxed in a smoky sigh for a moment and then I became aware, again, of his hand on my cock as it went rigid and sprayed cum all over my sweater and onto my chin. My body trembled in wave after wave of unbelievable pleasure while my teeth clamped hard onto my cigar. All I could do was smoke. My heart raced and my body relaxed into the feeling. “Close your eyes now.” And as I did, everything inside of me calmed. He was telling me then that he was going to count and when he reached five, I’d be fully aware and we’d talk about what happened. He counted and my eyes opened, slow this time, and suddenly, everything felt normal again. I sat up and he said “The bathroom’s down the hall, why don’t you clean up.” I took the cigar out of my mouth and looked at it. It was pretty well smoked down which meant we’d been at it for over an hour .

“How was it?” He asked and I was speechless. I just smiled.

We talked and set something up for the following week. It was the third visit when everything changed. Now, keep in mind, nothing had changed as far as my limits were concerned, and he’d given no indication of anything changing from his perspective either. Sure, he came on strong, but all in all, he was a decent guy about everything. I showed up at his place around seven and had a couple of cigars with me. He invited me in and we talked a while before starting any hypnosis. He told me that we were going to try a different approach tonight as far as inductions went and I was fine with that. We went from the living room to the den and he’d pulled two chairs to face one another. He invited me to take a seat, which I did.

“Should I smoke?” I asked. He told me that wasn’t necessary yet. That piqued my curiosity, since the past two times, I’d been the one smoking. He sat down across from me and looked straight at me.

“You’re going to remember everything that happens tonight. What’s more, you’re going to be in full control of everything you do tonight,” he said. That was also new. Well, sort of. I remembered everything about the other two visits, too, but he’d never taken the time to be so direct before. He got up, turned on some music, something that sounded classical but I didn’t recognize. He turned off the lights in the room with the exception of one light that was almost directly above us but shined more onto him. He pulled out a cigar and as he brought it to life, I was transfixed. The light hit him in just the right way that it highlighted the thickness of the smoke. He said that he wanted me to think about smoke, nothing else. That was easy enough, because the way the light was shining, it was as if he were producing the most massive clouds of smoke that I’d ever seen. What made it all the better was that those clouds were drifting directly toward me and I could breathe them in. Which I did. Deeply.

“Notice the weight of the smoke, boy, weightless on the air, heavy, as it drifts toward you, surrounds you, enters you now. Breathe in and make the smoke a part of you.” He would pause to smoke and I didn’t take my eyes off of him. At one point, he pulled deep on his cigar and launched a series of smoke rings into the air. I followed one of them as it moved toward me and as it collided with the bridge of my nose, right between my eyes, I heard him say “Sleep!” and felt my head slump forward against my chest as my eyes closed. I felt this indescribable comfort all over me as I heard his voice tell me to open my eyes and go even deeper into this feeling. I did.

Everything seemed, well, smoky, cloudy, and distant. He continued, “You’re in the smoke, boy, and you feel its power over you. It’s natural and you know that’s true because it’s a part of you and the source of your hunger.” I felt myself swallow as I’d begun to salivate. “You gave up trying to understand it when you accepted that you need the smoke as much as the smoke needs you, boy, and you need the smoke deep inside you because that’s where it stays. Each time you smoke a cigar it touches that part of you that is the smoke, boy. Each breath makes you crave it more and more. It’s more than a craving, boy, more than a hunger, it’s a need. You need the smoke because the smoke controls you; it always has and always will.” I was aware of everything he told me at the same time I was aware that everything he said was true. It was as if for the first time I felt a connection to everything I’d ever known about smoking and the attraction it held for me. I was so horny and was unconsciously stroking myself through my jeans. “Stand, boy.” I stood and was aware when he placed his hand on my shoulder and gently rocked me side to side. It made everything more dreamlike as the light shone down on the thick exhales he was breathing toward me. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. I knew as well as he did that at that moment I was the smoke as much as he was the smoke and all I needed or ever wanted was more smoke. He sucked deep on his cigar and it glowed brightly. I felt its heat and as he removed it, I felt his hand on the back of my head pulling me toward him. He put his lips onto mine and exhaled as instinctively I inhaled and took his smoke, my smoke, the smoke that was a part of me. As I exhaled through my nostrils, my eyes closed and my tongue reached out for his to taste the smoke. I found the slightest hint of taste as he pulled away leaving a light trail of smoke from my mouth. “Open your eyes, boy.” I did as another cloud of smoke danced in the light and hit me in the face. I breathed in and out, watching the smoke leave my body and longing for more.

“You are aware, boy, of everything you are doing and in full control. Now, boy, do what you must do.” I took the cigar from his hand and brought it to my lips. Greedily, I drew the smoke from that cigar into my mouth. I felt my lips part as I inhaled smoke and air into my lungs, then closed them to draw again while smoke poured from my nostrils. I couldn’t seem to fill myself with enough smoke before I had to inhale again and again. Still, I knew what I must do and I found myself sinking to my knees before him, wrapped in the smoke. I puffed on the cigar while my hands worked at unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. I remember it being so difficult because everything was so heavy and seemed to move so slow. Finally, I had his pants down as my smoke rose around his cock. I pulled on the cigar and removed it with my left hand while I took his cock in my right one. I exhaled the smoke over it and then ran my tongue down its shaft. It was what I wanted to do because it was what I needed to do. By servicing him, I served him. I felt his strong hand in my hair as my head bobbed up and down and my mouth sucked him off. Alternating between strokes with my right hand and my mouth, I tasted the precum before licking his balls. Another draw on the cigar and, with my mouth filled with smoke, I took him again. Deep. When he came, I heard him moan and I took his load. Happy to do it. Proud. With his hand on my head, he raised my glance upwards into his face. Smoke hung in the air around him and the light was bright. “Good boy,” he said. I smiled. “The cigar?” I handed it to him. He puffed it back to life and then exhaled upwards into the light. For a moment, in the thickness of the cloud, the room dimmed and I saw the glow of his cigar. Then, he began to exhale toward me, but paused and blew rings. As the third one hit my face, he commanded “Sleep!” and I did. My eyes closed and I felt my body go limp against him. I felt him lay me onto the floor and heard him step away. I don’t know how long he was gone because I could think of nothing but the smoke. It was in the air. I breathed it in.

In the distance I heard his steps before I heard his voice. “Stand, boy.” In what felt like an eternity, I stood. “Open your eyes, boy.” I did. “Strip, boy.” I did. “Tell me what you need, boy.” My mouth opened before I could think and I heard my voice before I realized I was speaking.

“I need smoke.”

“Good boy.” I was aware that I was standing naked before him but I couldn’t remember a time that anything felt more natural than this. “Let’s get you some smoke,” he said and put his hand on my shoulder and we walked first into the living room. There, he opened my bag and retrieved two of my cigars. He unwrapped one, clipped it, warmed it, and then placed it in my mouth. As he held to torch flame before me, I pulled in the smoke. I remember feeling a sense of relief spread through my body as the smoke filled me. Then, he led me to his bedroom. I knew we were there. I was aware of everything that was happening, and still I followed because it was what I needed to do. “Have a seat, boy,” he instructed and I sat on the chair beside his bed. “Enjoy your smoke.” I did. It was like the feeling I got the first time I smoked in an absolute and total unselfconscious manner. It was fulfilling as well as satisfying. I watched as he opened a drawer and pulled out various dildos before settling on one and holding that while he reached for a bottle of lube. He turned back to me and said “Boy, you are aware of what you are doing and the decision you make will be yours. Stand now if you want to proceed or continue to smoke.” I felt my body leaning forward and, as I rose to stand, a cloud of my smoke pulled by the air as I stood encircled me. “Good boy. Now, the bed.” I climbed onto the bed and half leaning, half reclining, presented my ass to him. I felt the coldness of the lube on his hand and then the tightness of my own ass against the soft firmness of the dildo inserted in and and slipped out, each time further, each time deeper. Finally, it stayed there and as I smoked, I heard the click of a switch. At first, there was a subtle vibration and my cock rose instantly at the sensation. Then, it began to pulse and I found myself smoking in time to the rhythm of each pulsation. Each one brought me closer and closer to cumming and that’s when he started talking to me again. In fact, he walked from behind me and stood over me as I smoked. “You understand now, my good boy, what has taken place here tonight. What is happening now, as you smoke and listen to my words. In fact, you’re fully aware and have made every decision to this point to follow my words, boy. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” I moaned, around my cigar, aware that I was going to cum at any moment.

“Yes, boy, it is right. In fact, it’s also right that when you cum you will be completely mine, boy. My own cigar boy, obedient and fully aware that you are mine when you cum soon and you will cum soon, won’t you boy?”

“Yes.” The word must have been almost indistinguishable to him, but I heard it, in my moaning and in my mind, I said “yes.” The pulsations came more frequently now and the room was filled with smoke as I continued to puff in a near frantic rhythm to them. I felt precum drip from my cock as it grew tighter.

“Good boy. You need me as much as you need the smoke and you will serve me as you serve the smoke, right boy?”

“Yes!” It was louder this time, and he could have said anything and I would have agreed.

“You notice now that my words are all that is filling your mind now. In fact, boy, the very thoughts you’re thinking are my words. Right?”

“Yes.” It was true, I could think of nothing else but what he told me. It was right to agree and I did. My balls tightened and my body grew tense. Seeing this, he took the cigar from my mouth, placed it in his, and leaned in front of my face, puffing thick clouds at me. He removed the cigar.

“Boy, Master is always right. Say it.”

“Master is always right.” I breathed in deeply as I felt my heart rate rise.

“Who is your Master, boy?”

“You are my Master.”

“Good boy. My good cigar boy. Again.”

“You are my Master.” With that, I shot my cum onto the bed feeling the pulsing as a steady and constant tick. I lost my breath in the release and found myself panting. I felt Master’s hand under my chin and my head drawn upwards. A ring of smoke hit me in the face as Master said “Sleep!” and I collapsed onto Master’s bed.

I was a pushy bottom who was good at getting my way. I still am. I’m also a very good and very obedient cigar boy for my Master when the need for smoke becomes greater than I can handle on my own. I message Master about my need and he messages back “We’ll see.” Then, when it’s convenient for Master, I’m once again filled with the smoke in a way I can’t be on my own. It was the best sort of lesson learned because it taught me about myself and proved that I was the one in control of everything that happened.