The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I know it’s in here somewhere,” thought Janey, “but there’re so many of them. It’ll take me hours to find it.” She sighed, and started digging through the piles of old National Geographics tucked away at the back of her father’s closet, where they’d been collecting dust for years. “If I can just find that picture—that native hut—there was something there that’s just what I need to finish my project. New Guinea, I think ... or was it Samoa? Damn, I guess I’ll have to look through all the articles on Pacific islands.”

She sighed again. What a way to spend a Saturday afternoon. But she needed an idea for her graduate design project, and there was a hazy memory of a picture she’d seen as a child ... And besides, she needed something mindless to do, something that would get her thoughts off of her problem. The problem. “Oh, there I go again, I can’t stop thinking about it. I wish I could just shut my mind off. I don’t want to think about him. Ohgod, I want to be with him. But I can’t. I can’t hurt John.”

Her thoughts churned as she continued to dig through the magazines. She could feel herself becoming aroused as she contemplated the man she secretly thought of as Master. She had been meeting him on-line for over a year now. No one knew. Well, almost no one. Penny knew. Janey had been so excited when she was forced to kiss her roommate, then reveal that it was because she was hypnotized. Oh, that had been so hot! Penny had been simply amazed. She really hadn’t believed it, until Janey went into trance for her, and took off her blouse at Penny’s suggestion.

“I’ve got to stop. I’ve got to stop thinking about him. I’m with John. I can’t do this.” Janey recalled with mixed feelings that she had successfully resisted talking with her Master just yesterday. She had been meeting him online every day for the last week. “I don’t know why I keep going back. I shouldn’t, but I feel so sexy, and then I see him, and I’m just drifting. It feels so good. I’m pretty and sexy, and I don’t need to think. I love being a little toy. I do want this. I do.”

Her mind floated in a pleasant haze, as she continued leafing through the magazines. She finished a pile, and then moved another stack from the back corner of the closet. As she hefted the magazines, she noticed a shoebox tucked away behind them. “Hmmmm, I wonder what this is? Old love letters?” She smiled to herself at the thought. Her Dad was great. She loved him so much, but he was pretty old-fashioned. The thought of the sober gray-haired man sending or receiving love letters made her giggle a bit. “Probably just some old checks that got tucked away here and forgotten.”

Feeling a tiny bit guilty, but also mischievous and very curious, Janey opened the box. “It is letters. How odd. I wonder who they’re from ... and to.” Feeling like a naughty little girl, Janey untied the string. Some of the letters were typewritten on plain paper, others in a flowery feminine hand on various types of stationary. Burning with curiosity, she opened the first, a one page hand-written note on floral paper.

September 22, 1967

Dear Frank,

I’m not sure why I’m writing. I really shouldn’t, since you’re a single man and I’m engaged to be married, but somehow I felt I just had to send you a note. I enjoyed meeting you so much at the party this weekend. Sometimes you meet someone and feel like you’ve known them forever—like they speak the same language, or can read your mind. I don’t even remember what we talked about, but I know that it was a wonderful conversation. It’s nice to think that if we ever meet again, we might become good friends. Like I said, it’s really not important. I’m going to marry Bob in the spring, so I probably won’t write again. I just wanted to tell you that I’m glad I met you.

Warmly,

Ellen

Ellen was her mother, and Frank her father. Perhaps these were love letters. Was she going to learn the story of their romance? What about Bob? Who was he? Feeling that she was uncovering a tantalizing mystery, thoroughly intrigued now, Janey continued to read.

September 26, 1967

Dear Ellen,

Thank you so much for your lovely note; it was so nice of you to write me! That party was fun, and meeting you was a real treat. I also enjoyed our conversation. I was so pleased that you were intrigued by my interest in hypnosis, and delighted when you volunteered to try it. I know you had an enjoyable experience.

You’re beginning to remember now how wonderful it felt, aren’t you, Ellen? When you think about it now, you can remember gazing at the watch as it swung back and forth and you listened to my voice. You can see it in your mind—the beautiful, bright shiny watch. So relaxing as your eyes follow it, as it swings back and forth. Focusing on the watch, and my voice, feeling so pleasant. That lovely, drowsy feeling is all coming back now. How warm, safe, and lovely you felt as your eyes drifted back and forth, back and forth ... following the lovely glittering watch ... back and forth ... back and forth. You loved listening to my voice so much—my warm, deep voice—helping you to feel so delightfully relaxed. You’re remembering how wonderful it felt to drift, feeling so warm and sleepy. Your whole body was so beautifully heavy and limp. It’s all coming back now ... all the wonderful feelings returning. You can remember now, and then after you’ve finished reading, you can let it vanish from your mind again. It feels so wonderful to have it all drift away. To float, so deep. It feels so perfect. Your arms warm, loose, relaxed. Your legs limp and heavy. Your breathing, so deep and even. Each breath relaxing you more. Each breath in and out, so deeply relaxing. Feeling so wonderful. Remembering my voice. How warm and lovely my voice sounds. You love it so much. Even when you’ve forgotten what my voice tells you, you’ll remember how much you love listening to it. My voice, wrapping you in a deep, downy, drowsy trance. You love that feeling ... so much. You want to respond ... so much. You love this place, where you can be so relaxed, so drowsy, so responsive. Your eyes want to close, and in a moment, you can close them and go to sleep. So heavy, wanting to close. So tired, so sleepy. Ready to go so deep now. Deep for me. To sleep. Deep asleep. Close your eyes, go very, very deep, and then open them, feeling beautifully relaxed as you read the rest of my words. Close your eyes and go to sleep right now, Ellen.

You’re so deep now, my dear. Feeling so relaxed, so open, so responsive. You love responding to me—it feels so good. You want to respond more and more deeply. You love being hypnotized and want me to hypnotize you more deeply. Each time you read this letter, over and over again, you will go deeper for me. You enjoy learning to reach deeper and deeper levels of hypnosis. Each time, you will feel your desire to respond to me growing deeper. You feel so warm, relaxed and sexy when I hypnotize you. You want to write me, and tell me about how you’re responding. You can awaken now, letting all my words drift out of your waking mind, remembering only how much you enjoyed them.

So, thank you again, Ellen. Should you wish to write me, I’d love hearing from you.

I remain yours truly,

Frank

Janey was stunned. Frank, her father, had actually hypnotized her mother at a party?? And he’d tried to hypnotize her again in a letter! Wow! She wondered if it had worked. Her mother ... hypnotized? Janey could hardly believe it. It was her own fantasy to be hypnotized and controlled. She’d never even considered that her mother might have had this experience. Janey read on.

October 2, 1967

Dear Frank,

I know I shouldn’t write you, but I enjoyed your letter so much, that I felt I simply must. I have to tell you, I’ve read your letter over and over and over again. I’m not even sure why, all I know is each time I read it, I have such a smile, and I feel so lovely. I hope you don’t mind me telling you that.

You know, I did remember one thing we talked about at the party. You told me that you’re interested in hypnosis. That sounds so fascinating! If I ever see you again, perhaps I could give it a try? I think I’d really enjoy that.

Please don’t feel that you need to write back. I doubt you’re interested in a correspondence with an almost-married woman, but I did want to thank you for your lovely note.

Warm regards,

Ellen

Hmmmm. This was getting interesting.

October 5, 1967

Dear Ellen,

Think about the watch—see it in your mind, swinging back and forth, relaxing you so deeply and completely. Close your eyes, and go deep for me, Ellen, very deep. See the watch, hear my voice, and feel yourself slipping deep—into a deep, deep relaxing hypnotic trance. When you know you’re very, very deep—feeling wonderfully relaxed, and beautifully responsive, open your eyes and follow my words. Close your eyes now.

Very good, Ellen. This is so easy for you, and feels so special. You love going deep for me. It feels so good to let go, and respond to my words. You want that so much, Ellen. To let go ... to respond. It feels sexy to be deep and responsive for me. You love being hypnotized by me, because it feels so sexy and exciting. You’re very excited, Ellen. Sexy and excited. You feel warm and aroused. Whenever you think about being hypnotized by me, and responding to me, you feel so sexy. You love being deeply responsive and feeling so very sexy. Even after my words have faded from your mind, faded completely, you’ll be thinking exciting, sexy thoughts. You love responding to my words. It feels so good to respond deeply. You feel warm, open, responsive. You love these feelings so very, very much. You want my words. Wanting them more and more. Feel that deep desire. Feel your excitement. Each time you read them, more excited. Each time you read them, deeper desire. Each time you think of me, you feel warm, responsive, excited. These feelings grow stronger each day, Ellen.

I’d love hearing from you soon, Ellen. I do hope you’ll write.

Your friend,

Frank

Janey could feel herself getting damp as she read the letters. This was so much like her own fantasies. And she knew that feeling of excitement at being responsive. Yes, it was sexy! She understood that so well, had experienced it so deeply. Eagerly she continued to read.

October 9, 1967

Dear Frank,

I’m finding myself looking forward to your letters more and more. I feel so good when I read your words. I just seem to drift away, and then I feel so wonderful. Thank you for these lovely notes.

I hope you won’t mind me telling you how sexy I’ve been feeling lately. I find myself thinking about you, and I just glow. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t seem to help myself. I hope you don’t mind me telling you this—I feel I can tell you anything, you’re such a good friend.

I still think about how exciting it would be to be hypnotized. Do you use hypnosis to get girls? I’ll bet they get so excited. I wonder what that would be like—it’s such a sexy idea!

I hope you don’t mind me writing. Please don’t feel you need to write back, but if you do, I’ll enjoy receiving your letters so much. I get a warm, happy feeling when I hear from you. I hope you don’t think I’m being silly.

Thinking of you fondly,

Ellen

Wow! Being a good hypnotic subject must run in the family!

October 15, 1967

My Dear Ellen,

Each time you think about the watch, you go deeper for me, Ellen, deeper into sexy, exciting hypnosis. Close your eyes now, and go very, very deep. Very deep before you read my instructions.

You love the sexy feeling of deep hypnosis, Ellen. You feel so sexy, right now. So aroused. You are tingling with excitement. I want you to notice the excitement in your body, Ellen. Feel your breathing—how you’re beginning to pant with arousal. You feel so hot, so stimulated. You’re thinking about me, imagining being with me, and that thought has you so turned on. Your nipples are tight and hard. You want to rub them. Go ahead. They feel so tingly, so stiff, so sensitive. They respond to your touch. Each moment more aroused. Each moment more excited. So sexy. So very, very sexy.

Your pussy is wet, Ellen. So very moist and receptive. You can feel a warm tingling deep inside. Go ahead and stroke yourself now. You feel so sexy. You’re so hot. You want to orgasm. Keep stroking. Don’t climax until I tell you to. You are wet, aroused, your pussy is open. You are thinking about me filling you. You want that. You need that. You need me inside you so much. So very, very much. You are ready to orgasm. You are ready to have a long, intense, pleasurable orgasm when I tell you. When I tell you to cum, you will orgasm for me. You will orgasm, and then you will sleep. When you awaken, you will not need to remember, only feel the pleasure in your mind when you think of me. You will begin to dream of this, of this deep excitement. Even more aroused now, Ellen. Deep, hypnotic arousal. So very, very excited. So very, very ready.

Cum for me NOW, Ellen.

When she read the last line, Janey felt herself cumming. A small, but very pleasurable orgasm. “Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod,” she thought. Her mother’s reply was almost as exciting.

October 19, 1967

Dear Frank,

I’ve been thinking about you so much, Frank. I know I shouldn’t, but I just can’t seem to help myself. I had a dream last night, and you were in it. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I feel I just have to.

I was lying in my bed, sleeping, and then I seemed to awaken. It felt like I wasn’t completely awake, just lying there drowsing. Somehow I knew you were in the room, although the lights were off, and I couldn’t really see you. I was thinking that you shouldn’t be in my bedroom, but then I didn’t care.

You lay down on the bed next to me, and I was looking into your eyes. I felt so dreamy and drowsy and sexy. I wasn’t thinking about anything except how good I felt. You were talking to me. I couldn’t tell what you were saying, but it didn’t matter. All I cared about was feeling sexy, and responding to you.

You started to rub my breasts. My nipples were tight and tingly, and it felt just wonderful. I wanted to be naked with you, and then I noticed that my nightie and panties were gone. You started to rub my pussy. I was very, very wet. You put a finger inside me, and I was so slick that it just slid in. I wanted to feel you inside me, and I asked you to put it in me.

When you entered me, it didn’t hurt at all. It felt just great. I wanted it so much. I wanted you, Frank. You moved inside me, and then it felt so good, it was like I was exploding. I must have woken up then. The sheets were damp, and I was panting.

I don’t know why I told you all this, Frank. I’ve never had a dream like that before. I’m a good girl. I’ve never slept with a man. Bob and I decided we were going to wait until we’re married. You probably think I’m terrible for having thoughts like this. You probably think I’m a little slut, and won’t want to be my friend anymore. I’m so ashamed. If you don’t want to write me anymore, I’ll understand. I just can’t seem to stop these thoughts. I’m sorry.

Ellen

Janey could sympathize with her mother’s embarrassment, although the idea of being taken by a stranger was one of her favorites. The next letter seemed to tap into her own fantasies even more deeply.

October 21, 1967

My Dear, Sweet Ellen,

There’s no reason to be embarrassed or ashamed by the thoughts and dreams you’ve been having. None. I want you to put any discomfort you feel right out of your pretty little head. I want you to slip deep for me, and let yourself respond in the way that you love so much. When you listen to me, you feel so much better. You love responding to all my suggestions. You love going deeper and deeper for me. Each day you can let yourself slip deeper, dreaming deep dreams, feeling yourself floating in a deep place where my voice guides you, and you respond deeply.

There’s no reason to feel any shame. You’re a sensuous, erotic woman, and you love being sexy and desirable. You want men to desire you. You feel so wonderful when men notice you, when you know they want you. You want to be seductive and enticing. When you feel this way, you think of me, Ellen. You think of how much you want me.

You want to dress in sexy, revealing clothing, Ellen. You want to do that for me. You want to be beautiful and sexy, and think about how much I’ll desire you when you’re with me. When you dress for me—wearing your scanty lingerie and your revealing clothing—you’ll feel so aroused, so sexy. You will dress for me, and will feel the deep excitement.

It’s completely natural to feel sexy and to dress for men. That’s what you’re meant to do, Ellen. You feel that deeply. It feels so right for you, so liberating. It makes you feel light and free. You love how you feel when you follow my suggestions. They all feel so wonderful. It’s so nice that you don’t need to think about any of this. No memories trouble you, you simply respond, enjoying each moment. You feel such pleasure when you write me, and tell me of all your experiences, of how you’re responding.

Frank

The next letter was deja vu all over again. Janey found it so easy to imagine herself in her mother’s high heels.

October 29, 1967

Dear, dear Frank,

I’m not sure why I was upset when I wrote my last letter. Lately, I’ve been feeling so much better. That’s an understatement, actually. I’ve been glowing. I don’t know why, but I’ve been feeling pretty, and sexy, and just wonderful! I know I’m spoken for, so I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but the men on campus have been noticing me. They smile at me, and I’m having so much fun flirting with them. I get so excited and feel so sexy and beautiful when I know they’re looking at me.

Okay, I admit it, I do know why I’m feeling this way, and why I’m the center of attention. I’ve been dressing differently. I’m not sure why, but my regular clothes have started to seem bland and boring. I really think I should wear clothes that are prettier, sexier. And I’ve been wanting to wear clothes that are more revealing.

It makes me blush to say that, but it’s true. I went shopping for some new outfits. I bought a couple of cute short little miniskirts and some light, pretty sundresses. The dresses are all low-cut and I feel so sexy in them. It’s getting a little cool for summer dresses, but I don’t care; I feel so soft and lovely. I also got some beautiful lingerie. I’m not very ... ummm ... “busty”, but in my new black lace push-up bra, I look just great! I bought a couple of teeny, teeny bikinis that I’ve been sunbathing in. I also got some new high heels and fishnet stockings that go great with my short little skirts. Some days I’m even going braless! When I wear one of my new sheer blouses without a bra, I think the guys can probably see my nipples standing up. I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I feel so shameless, and so turned on!

I hope you won’t mind me telling you that when I dress in the morning, I often imagine dressing for you. I hope you don’t mind. I look in the mirror, wearing my lingerie, and I feel so sexy. I drift off, imagining that you’re watching me—imagining your voice telling me that I look pretty. I feel so floaty and lovely. I just glow. I don’t feel this way with Bob. Oh well.

I’ll write more later. Right now my roommate and I are going shopping. I saw some cute little vests that will just cover my breasts, but leave the skin between them bare. Yum!

Feeling sexy for you,

Ellen

The way her mother described things and her own experiences—so close, it was almost scary. The next letter sounded exactly like something her own Master would tell her; it seemed uncanny. She found herself squirming as she read on.

November 1, 1967

My Ellen,

You’re doing so well. You’re responding to my deep suggestions so well. You love going deep for me, the feeling of letting your mind drift and float. Letting go, and enjoying your deep erotic trance. Not needing to remember, simply feeling these lovely sensuous feelings.

You feel so open and responsive, Ellen. My words are so important, you love following them. You love doing what I tell you to do—it feels so good when you do what I tell you to do. That’s such a sexy thought, the thought of doing what you’re told. You get so excited when you think about being obedient. You love that word—“obedient.” Each time you see that word, you get more aroused. Obedient. So sexy. You say the word to yourself, and feel a burst of pleasure. Obedient. It’s so easy and natural for you. You love being obedient. Tell yourself that. Say to yourself, “I love being obedient,” and notice the pleasure you feel. It feels perfect to you. You love that phrase ... say it again, “I love being obedient.” Each time you repeat this phrase, all day long, you’ll feel so lovely, such deep, deep pleasure. Everything is just right for you, when you say it to yourself. It’s not important to know why, just to let it fill your mind. You enjoy not having to think about my instructions, simply following them. Being obedient. So natural. So perfect for you. So pleasurable.

And when you think of being obedient, you think of Me. You want to obey Me. Only Me, Ellen. Everything else is fading away. Your desire to obey me gets stronger and stronger, everything else becomes less and less important. You love responding so deeply, and want me to lead you deeper and deeper.

Frank

As she read the response, Janey couldn’t believe her eyes. This was her mother writing? Her mother???

November 6, 1967

My darling Frank,

I think of you all the time. Even in my dreams, you’re there. I had one last night. It makes me blush to think about it, and blush to tell you, but I want to tell you. I need to. I hope you don’t mind, my dear Frank.

In the dream I was standing in front of you. You were wearing black and somehow you felt powerful to me. I was wearing a light, pretty sundress with a lacy white bra and matching lace panties. I had on silk stockings with a garter belt, and high heels. I knew that I had dressed for you, and I was so glad to be there. I was so glad to be with you.

You told me to take off my dress in a very firm voice. I wanted to do that so much. I wanted to obey you. I knew it would feel good to be obedient. I wasn’t even thinking, I just took my dress off. It felt wonderful. I was drifting. I knew I’d do anything you wanted me too. It felt so good to not need to think, and to just obey. My body was tingling, and I felt so light and free.

When you told me to take my bra off, I wanted to so much. Everything felt sexy and delicious. I slipped it off, and I remember hoping that you’d give me other things to do. When you told me to take off my panties, I could feel myself glowing. I wanted to obey you so much. It felt so perfect, so natural.

You were naked too, and sitting in a chair. You told me to sit in your lap, and take you inside me. God, I wanted that so much. I felt so sexy and desirable as I guided you into my body. I was so wet, and so aroused. I wanted to orgasm, but I knew I should wait. I wanted to be obedient. I love being obedient.

When you finally told me to cum, I did. Over and over and over again. I hope this doesn’t sound too kinky, Frank. I don’t even know if you’d want me. You’re probably thinking that I’m crazy. I hope I don’t scare you off with my wild thoughts and ideas. I just had to tell you; I’m not sure why. I hope you don’t mind me telling you all this. I don’t know where these fantasies are coming from—they seem so different, so unlike me. But they excite me so.

It feels so strange to be saying all this. I’ve always believed that women should be equal to men. I believe that strongly. I’m active with women’s rights groups on campus, and I just love what’s happening with the women’s movement. But when I think about being with a man, I find myself wanting to be submissive and obedient. Submissive and obedient to you, Frank. It’s so weird. I don’t understand it. But I don’t really care.

I hope you’ll write me.

Love,

Ellen

This all seemed so familiar to Janey. Each letter seemed to resonate with her own experience so strongly. The letters continued to draw her on.

November 14, 1967

My very own Ellen,

I’m sorry that I haven’t written sooner; I’ve been busy with exams.

Your dreams and thoughts are all perfectly natural. They are just right for you. And you want more, so much more, my sweet little Ellen. You drift off to that lovely place where you respond so deeply as I tell you what you want. You want to be dominated. You need a strong man who will tell you what to do, who will command you, who you can obey. You love the feeling of being softly submissive, sweetly obedient. You want to be dominated and controlled. You want to serve Me, little ellen. You want to be obedient. You’re thinking about becoming My slave, and that excites you so much. You’re so aroused as you imagine submitting to Me. This is your deep fantasy, little ellen—to be a soft, sweet, submissive, little sex slave. To be trained to obey. You dream of this. You long for this. Your thoughts are becoming filled with this desire. More and more, each day, you dream of becoming a slave. My slave. Of submitting. Your thoughts drift off, and you feel your deep desires. Your desire to be dominated. Your desire to serve. Your desire to obey. Your desire to be owned. You want to belong to Me, little ellen. You need this, to be My slave and serve Me.

Write me now, and tell me of your desires, little one.

And the reply. So much like her own feelings. So much so. Janey knew exactly what her mother had experienced.

November 23, 1967

Dear Frank,

I’ve been so confused lately. I put off writing you because I wasn’t sure what to say. My thoughts have been so torn; I’m not sure what I want anymore.

I’ve continued to dream about you. I had a dream just last night. It was so intense—so powerful. I was on my knees in front of you. I was wearing only my skimpiest lingerie, and my head was bowed. You were standing over me, and I could feel how strong and powerful you are. I felt small and helpless. You had a collar in your hand. It looked like one of these big leather dog collars. I knew that you were going to fasten it around my neck, and that once you did, I’d belong to you. I was intensely aroused, and completely terrified. I could hear a voice in my head saying that I wanted to be your slave. And part of me was so scared to give up my freedom.

I’m not sure why I’m having these dreams and these thoughts. I’ve never had these urges before. They’re so strong now, and I’m not sure what I want anymore. I don’t know why I’m having these thoughts about you. I don’t know. Maybe I’m going crazy. I just don’t know anymore.

I feel so guilty about these ideas. I’m going to marry Bob. I shouldn’t be thinking these things. I shouldn’t be writing you. I want to, but I shouldn’t. It’s just not right. I should stop. I need to stop.

You’ve been so nice to me, Frank, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I don’t know why I’m saying these things, thinking these things. Please forgive me.

Ellen

Janey knew. These were her very own experiences. This was really the reason she’d come home this weekend. She needed to stop thinking about her Master. She needed to stop. Just like her mom had. The next letter also seemed so familiar.

November 26, 1967

My little ellen,

You want me to help you, little one. You want me to put your mind at ease, to rest. To help you stop thinking, stop worrying. To sleep, to dream, to rest peacefully; that’s what you need. You want to just let go, and let me think for you. That will be so nice. It’s what you really want.

There’s really no need to think, my little ellen. All you need to do is let yourself respond to all my suggestions. You want to be pretty and sexy, and when you think of me, that’s exactly what you are. You focus on those feelings—feeling soft, sweet, sexy, happy, and it feels wonderful. There’s no reason to worry about anything, none at all. As long as you think about me, about being my sweet little toy, you are happy—completely happy. Nothing can disturb you, nothing can take you from this wonderful place. As long as you follow me, are attentive, let your thoughts flow as I direct, nothing will disturb your perfect peace of mind. You feel light, breezy, your mind sweetly empty, waiting to be filled. It’s such a lovely feeling to have empty thoughts, to be a soft and sexy little toy, to wait for a strong man to fill that sweetly confused, empty mind, to tell you what to think, what to do.

Let me know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, what you’re wanting, my sweet little one.

Frank

Janey could feel how calming and soothing these words were. She felt her own troubles dropping away. As she read her mother’s reply, her head nodded, and she could feel herself smiling.

December 1, 1967

Frank, darling,

I hope you didn’t take my last letter too seriously. Sometimes I just have a bad day. I’m feeling so much better. I’m not thinking, or worrying, and I feel so good. I dress in my pretty clothes, and I feel so playful, so happy. I feel just like a little doll, a little toy. I think about being your toy, your pretty little toy, and I feel bubbly and wonderful.

I’m still having dreams about being your slave, but they don’t worry me at all. They feel so wonderful, so sexy, so exciting. Have you ever thought about having a slave, Frank? I wonder if you’d want me for your slave? I feel so dreamy and sexy and wonderful when I think you might like to have me.

If my wild ideas are too far out for you, Frank, I don’t mind. I know that sometimes I’m such a silly girl. I can be so empty-headed. I hope you’ll still write me. I love your letters so much. I live for them. You have such wonderful ideas, and I love when you give me things to think about. I feel your thoughts fill my little mind, and they feel so nice. I’d never be able to figure these things out on my own; you’re so wise. I feel so sweetly sexy when I think the thoughts you give me. Please tell me what to think, Frank. Please?

I’ll write again soon. Right now, I’m going to go take a bath, and think about being pretty for you.

Your little,

ellen

The next few letters were so exciting; it was like the dream she’d had of meeting her Master. Perhaps one day he’d instruct her in the same way. She had dreamt of it, some of the dreams so strong and intense.

December 5, 1967

My little toy,

It is time for you to meet me. You’ve been wanting this, needing it, craving it. There will be no need to think about my instructions, no need to remember them, but you will follow them, and will feel so very, very good as you obey. The deepest parts of your mind will know what to do, and will direct your steps. You will drift deep, sleep deep, and do as I instruct. You want to obey. You want to come to me, and serve me. You feel your desire so strongly. You are tingling with arousal. You will remember all my instructions only in your deepest, deepest self, and obey them all. There’s no need to think, no need to worry. You simply obey. Simply obey, my little sex toy.

You will be visiting a girl friend out-of-town next weekend. You want to visit her alone. She lives in Middletown. You will take the 5:48 train Friday afternoon Middletown. You will pack all your prettiest clothes, and all your sexy lingerie. You will dress in sexy, revealing clothing for your train trip. On the trip, you will be thinking of me, and you will be so very, very aroused. When the train arrives in Middletown, you will be on the edge of orgasm, but you will not cum until I let you.

December 8, 1967

My dear, sweet, Frank,

Just a very quick note to let you know that I won’t be able to write this weekend. I’m going to visit an out-of-town girlfriend, and I won’t be back until Monday. I’ll write you then. Hope you have a wonderful weekend.

Your,

ellen

December 11, 1967

Frank, my love,

I had the most marvelous weekend. It’s all sort of a hazy blur right now, but my friend and I had such fun! I dreamt of you again this weekend. I hope you don’t mind me telling you my dreams. You must think I’m such a twit. But this dream was so exciting, and you were in it. Maybe you’ll be flattered that you show up in my dreams! I hope so.

Anyway, in this dream, I went to visit you. You met me at the train. I had dressed for you in such a pretty little dress, with sexy lingerie and heels. I felt so beautiful. You drove us to your place, and when we got there, you asked me if there was anything I wanted. Well, there was! I wanted you to hypnotize me, and when I asked, and you said yes, I was so happy! I’ve been wanting that ever since you mentioned it months ago. I’ve never been hypnotized, and it seems so sexy!

You brought out this beautiful pocket watch, and began swinging it before my eyes. Ohhhhh, it was so lovely, and I felt so relaxed. I could feel this lovely, warm, drowsy feeling slipping over me. It was like sliding into a warm bath. I was sooooooo sleepy, and felt so wonderful. I tried to keep my eyes open for just a little bit, but they were so heavy, and I didn’t really want to keep them open, I just wanted to go to sleep. Your voice was so sexy, and as I slipped deeper and deeper into hypnosis, I could feel myself becoming more and more aroused. I was so wet!

When I felt very, very deep, you asked me what I wanted. I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to obey you. I wanted to be your slave. I wanted you to train me to please you. Ohgod, I wanted that so much. To be soft, pliant, obedient. It’s what I’ve always wanted. To be your slavegirl and serve you.

When you asked me to show how I would serve you, I got so excited. I knelt between your legs, and unzipped you. I’ve never seen a man’s penis before, but yours was so lovely, so wonderful. Your wonderful penis ... your cock ... that’s what it is, your beautiful cock. I wanted to please you so much, and I knew that worshipping your wonderful, beautiful cock would feel so good, and would please you. I began to lick it. I was looking up, watching your face, watching to see if I was pleasing you. You let out a little moan, and I felt such pleasure. I was pleasing to you, and I felt so happy.

I took your cock in my mouth. I knew you would want me to take it in all the way. It was so easy! It just slid all the way down. The back of my throat was so sensitive, and when I felt it rubbing there, it was so pleasurable. I wanted to worship you in this way forever, and I wanted to taste you. I knew that if I truly pleased you, and you climaxed, I’d receive such a gift. I’d drink everything, and feel such pleasure. I wanted that so much, I yearned for it.

You were moaning as I continued to suck, and each moan made my pussy tingle and clench. At last your fluid was flowing down my throat. It was like sweet nectar, and I was orgasming with you. It was so intense. I felt overwhelmed with pleasure and with my love and devotion to you. When you began to soften, and told me that you’d accept me as your slave, I orgasmed again. You would be my Master. My hopes had come true. You were my Master, my owner. I belonged to you. I was your toy, your plaything, your slave.

There was more to the dream—much more, but it’s blurred in my mind now. I’m sure you think I’m a silly girl. You’ve never asked me to worship you, but I do. That’s just the way it is, and I have to admit it. Please don’t let this upset you. I’m not one of those girls who will throw themselves at you. I just hope we’ll always be friends and you’ll keep writing me.

That dream has troubled me just a bit, I must admit. My feelings for you have been getting so strong, and I’m not quite sure what to do about Bob. He loves me so much. I’m fond of him, and I would hate to hurt him. Lately I’ve realized though, there’s something I’m just not getting with him. Bob is a very, very sweet man, and he’s so good to me, but I need a man who’s strong, a man who will dominate me. I find myself hoping more and more that you’ll be that man. That you’d like to own me, to be my Master.

I love you, Frank, and I want to be yours—completely, totally, unconditionally. I know we haven’t known each other that long, and we’ve only met once, that first time at the party. And yet, I feel you know me so well. I feel you truly understand me—all of me—and that you accept me. I can’t explain it, but I feel so connected to you, so close to you. I can only hope you share my feelings.

Wishing I could be your little toy,

ellen

The letters left her wondering. Had any of her dreams of visiting her own Master been real? Some of them had been so vivid and detailed. And dreams and reality were becoming so blurred. It seemed that the more time she spent talking with her Master, the more things became hazy and dreamy. Well, it really didn’t matter. Her mother’s thoughts and feelings seemed clear, and so close to her own. What was coming next, she wondered?

December 14, 1967

My little slave,

I was so pleased with your last letter. Yes, I’m willing to be your Master, and make your dreams come true. There’s no need to forget that I’ve told you this; I want you to know that you’ve pleased me, and that I’m accepting you for training. I love you, my little ellen, and I want you with me.

Let’s talk about Bob. I know that you’re upset by the prospect of hurting him. But think about the larger picture. Is it fair to Bob to offer him only a part of yourself, without him even knowing how much is being held back? What kind of relationship will you have if you’re dreaming of another way of life, yearning for something you don’t have, fantasizing about being with someone else? Even if you were to vow to put these thoughts from your mind, how realistic is that? Can you control these needs? They’re such a deep, deep part of you. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll know that there’s a door that will always be closed to Bob, a door into your deepest desires, your deepest self. You go to him now with only a part of yourself, but he will come to realize that. You will both ache for true intimacy, and in time, you both will suffer.

It’s going to be hard to tell him that you’ve found another. But I know you will help him to see that there are things you need, things you must have, that he can’t give you. In your sweet and gentle way, you’ll let him know that these are not his shortcomings, but simply differences in your paths. I will be with you in spirit, supporting you, helping your through this difficult time, my sweet ellen. I have such trust, such faith in you. I know that your love and concern will be clear to Bob, and if he truly loves you, he’ll understand how important your dreams and deep needs really are, and will give you his blessing.

I look forward to having you with me, my darling little slavegirl. I know how sweet and sexy you will feel when we’re together. How your pretty little head will fill with thoughts of pleasing me, and how pleasing you will be to me. I look forward to training you—gently, but firmly—teaching you all you should know, helping you to build your new world of service.

You will be my Christmas present, my little dear. You will offer yourself to me, and I will accept your gift joyfully. And your Christmas present shall be a lifetime of happiness, a gift that I shall gladly give you for a long, long time to come. I will see you very, very soon, and we shall exchange our gifts, my sweet little one.

Your Master

The stack of letters had come to an end. And Janey could fill in the rest of the story for herself. Well, some of the story anyway. She knew that her parents had been married in the spring of ‘68. Over thirty-two years now—thirty-two years they’d been together. But what a different story from what she’d heard growing up. They’d met at a party their senior year, that was true. But the “dating” wasn’t even close to what she’d been told. And there’d been no mention of a “Bob.” Who was he, anyway? Bob? Uncle Bob? Her father’s friend, Uncle Bob? Could that possibly be? It seemed so unlikely, and yet, it fit the facts so well. She’d probably never know for sure. How could she ever discuss this with either of her parents?

And their story? Surely this didn’t all end with a marriage. Did they settle down, have kids, and then simply lead a normal, vanilla, suburban life, the domination fantasy fading into memory? They seemed so conventional, so ordinary, and yet, certain things seemed to click into place in Janey’s mind. The way they so seldom argued, and on those rare occasions when they did, how her mother would suddenly fall silent, a distant look on her face, and then she’d be so agreeable, and so sweet to her father. She thought about certain mornings when her mother first got out of bed—how she seemed dazed, smiling, looking so happy, sometimes not even responding when anyone talked to her, other than Dad.

She remembered once or twice going into her parents room and seeing her mother standing before the mirror, wearing lingerie—lingerie that seemed too sexy for a wife and mother—gently running her hands over herself and gazing into the mirror with a distant, glassy expression. Had Janey learned this from her mother? Was this why she too felt so dreamy before the mirror—donning sexy outfits, thinking about dressing for her Master. And her fantasies—so like her mother’s, eerily so. Had she unknowingly absorbed these ideas during her childhood, a consequence of being a slavegirl’s daughter?

Janey’s mind was spinning. What about her bondage fantasies? Had her mother experienced them and subconsciously communicated that desire? Was this a part of the story that went beyond the letters? Learning to be tied, bound, rendered helpless—and learning to love it? Was that why Janey dreamed of it? Somehow she knew, with a deep certainty. Yes, her mother was a slave. A hypnotized slavegirl. A bondage slave. And she was still a slave, serving her Master. Janey’s father—her mother’s Master. It all made sense, it was all true.

Ohgod, and what about herself, her own story? Her relationship with her Master, and the question of her future with John. Would it all go the same way? The same story—different players, but the same script, the same scenes, to be acted out the same way, with the same ending? Was she truly her mother’s daughter? Yes, she knew now. It no longer mattered what she did, what she thought, what she felt—it would all play out. History would repeat, and she too would experience the pain, the suffering, the pleasure, and the joy.