The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I’m really uncomfortable with your sexual advances. I’m afraid that I will have to ask you to leave!” My wife, Debbie, stood up, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at the door.

Scarlett gathered herself from the couch, smoothing the front of her skirt unhurriedly, a look of calm composure on her elegant face. She responded to my wife’s gesture with a coy smirk, then walked slowly past where I was seated, toward my wife, and stopped facing her, less than a foot separating them. “You don’t seem to understand, me dear. I wasn’t asking.” They stood staring at each other for a long moment. “That’s right. Stare into my eyes, and it will all become clearer.” Debbie’s expression of indignation softened. She looked like she was about to speak, but didn’t. Scarlett closed the distance between them. I heard my wife exhale slowly. “Stare deeper”, she declared. Scarlett’s eyes widened. Beautiful eyes. Debbie’s lips had parted. She was no longer blinking. Scarlett gave Debbie’s shoulders a sharp shake and drew her closer, so that she was looking up into Scarlett’s intense gaze. “Just look deeply, and you will understand.”

There was a long moment of quiet, then Scarlett slowly drew my wife into a passionate embrace, kissing her deeply, intensely, erotically, powerfully. I sat, transfixed, unable to take my eyes from the scene of smouldering erotic tension. I had never seen someone swoon, but when Scarlett broke the kiss, my wife nearly fainted. Her eyes were glassy, wide and empty. Her lower lip quivered. Her gaze had not left Scarlett’s dark eyes. She was swaying gently, her arms hanging limply at her sides.

Scarlett spoke softly, but with great gravity, “Okay. As you wish. I shall leave, my pet, but this is what will happen next: one week from today, on Saturday night I shall be your guest for dinner. I will arrive promptly at six o’clock. Make a nice meal. I will have glass of red wine. Set a pretty table. Oh, and dress up for me as you would wish to look when you are utterly submitting yourself to your Mistress. Both of you.” She looked at me; a faint smile on her lips. A rush of arousal overtook me, and I knew that I had done well. “Good night.”

With that, Scarlett let herself out. The front door clicked closed, and there was silence. After a few minutes, Debbie crumpled onto the couch, staring into the distance, one hand distractedly rubbing the inside of her thigh.

It was my fault, I suppose. It was my idea to invite Scarlett over for a drink. It seemed like a good idea, a very important idea; although I couldn’t say why. Now something would happen, although I couldn’t say what. All I knew was that Scarlett was pleased with me, and I floated on a sea of blissful contentment.

b.

“Sure. We can have your work friend over for a drink. Who is it?”

I had broached the subject knowing that Debbie’s good nature would prevail. “Well, it’s a contractor to our client. We’ve been working on the contract proposal team together. I thought it would be nice. Her name is Miss, um, Scarlett.” I almost said “Mistress Scarlett”, although I have no idea why. I giggled. “She’s easy to listen to, and we get along well.” I had meant to say that she’s easy to talk to, but I let the mistake go. “You met her at Stan’s farewell party last year. The girl in the red dress? Remember?”

Debbie looked at me sharply. ”How can I forget? She patted my ass when we said goodbye.” Debbie twirled a finger beside her head in the universal symbol of ‘nut job’.

“You looked pretty hot that night. You must have made quite a first impression.” Then I added, “She’s a transexual,” trying to sound matter of fact.

“That was a man?!” Debbie was standing with her arms crossed, a curious smile on her face.

“Yeah. Um. Sort of.” I cleared my throat.

“And how do you happen to know that?” I was pretty sure that Debbie knew that I had a thing for transexuals. I had let it slip once or twice, to gauge her reaction. Once, during a passionate evening of porn-enhanced sex, I “accidentally” loaded a video of a chick with a dick going crazy on a young couple. I let the video run until Debbie offered a distinctly non-erotic response, whereby I loaded something more heterosexual. I safely presumed that she knew about my “thing”, but we had never really talked about it. There wasn’t much to say. It was just an attraction, a kink, but I had never done anything about it.

“It came up at work.” Debbie chuckled incredulously. “Really. Some of the guys treat her like she’s radioactive. I never could figure out why. The team was heading out for drinks after work one day. I was about to ask if Scarlett was coming along, but a few of the guys were looking daggers at me. She said, ‘It’s okay. I won’t rock the boat.’ There was a hint of bitterness that made me feel sad for her. The next day we grabbed a coffee, and I asked her what was up. “It’s because I’m trans”, she said. I wasn’t sure that I heard her correctly. She repeated it. ‘Transexual.’ My mouth was apparently hanging open, because she started laughing. She’s very open about it. We’ve sort of been buddies ever since.”

“What exactly does ‘trans’ mean?", Debbie asked. “Is it just a man who dresses like a girl?”

“Sort of. It’s not a dress-up thing. According to her, she lives and thinks like a woman. She always has, she says. In her case she’s more like a woman who has male parts.” There was an awkward silence. I could hear Debbie smirking. “I presume she has male parts”, I corrected.

“Bring her over. Why not?” My wife is a sweetheart. “Can’t do any harm,” she mused. I figured it would be awkward, but for some reason I really needed to invite Scarlett over.

c.

After Scarlett let herself out, Debbie and I didn’t speak for the rest of the day. We didn’t even try. I didn’t know what to say. She didn’t really seem able. She floated around the house, staring distractedly and bumping into things. Bedtime came. We turned out the lights. That moment when Scarlett kissed my wife was the hottest thing I had ever seen. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. From Debbie’s reaction, I imagined that she felt the same way. I wanted to ask her about it, but I figured that I would let some time pass first.

On Monday evening we went for a walk after dinner. “What the hell was she thinking?!” Debbie suddenly announced. “That was one weird woman, er, fuck, guy!” She was a bit agitated. “No! Okay? Just tell her ‘no’!” she proclaimed. “No dinner!” I knew enough not to argue.

On Tuesday, while doing the dishes Debbie suddenly asked, “What will we serve?” The context was obvious. We tossed around a few suggestions. I chose the wine. We made a grocery list. Scarlett’s name was never mentioned.

On Wednesday night we breezed into the house after work. “I got a text today”, Debbie announced.

“Me too,” I replied. It was from Scarlett.

“I wonder what it’s about? It was just a link to a web page.”

After dinner we settled onto the couch to relax. As I pulled closed the living room drapes, I noticed some of the neighbourhood kids playing twilight street hockey. I booted up our big-screen television, which is connected to our computer. A web page had loaded. “I don’t get this”, Debbie said abruptly. “Something weird happened when she was here. It was hot, I guess, but weird.” She appeared to be struggling. “I’m not sure if...I mean, I don’t think I like where...” I clicked PLAY on the screen.

The sound of Scarlett’s voice emerged, smooth, strong and alluring. It cut Debbie off in mid sentence. I glanced at her. She blinked. I blinked too. Then I blinked again.

We arose from the couch. I glanced out the window as we headed upstairs to bed. It was full dark. The street was silent.

We each got another text on Thursday. Another web page, which again we watched immediately after dinner. When it was over, Debbie arose first from the couch. A far away expression crossed her face, then she said blankly, “I’m Mistress Scarlett’s submissive cock sucker fuck toy”, then she went upstairs to bed. I was astonished and intended to ask what that was about, but as I got up to follow I had an odd blank moment, muttering something to myself, and then couldn’t remember what I had wanted to ask Debbie.

The same thing occurred on Friday. “I got a text message.” We both fidgeted through dinner and the washing up. I had intended to pour us each a glass of wine, but I grew impatient and abandoned the notion. Debbie was loading the web link. Soon Mistress Scarlett’s soothing voice was coming from the computer. I remember how hearing her voice filled me with such calm and warmth. Debbie gave a long, soft sigh. We were sitting side by side on the couch, holding hands. When the screen went blank we shut off the computer and went upstairs to bed. We were naked.

d.

Saturday came. The table was set by noon. We took turns fussing over dinner. Around five o’clock Debbie went upstairs to get changed. I went up a few minutes later to do likewise, finding that she had laid out on the bed her favourite itty bitty black dress and black pumps. The bathroom door was ajar, and I caught a glimpse of her doing her make-up wearing a black bustier, panties, garter belt and stockings. I wore a pair of grey slacks and a sweater. Underneath I also wore a black bustier, panties, garter belt and stockings, although I wouldn’t know that until later. Things were about to get complicated fast.

By 5:15 we were both pacing the floor, adjusting wine glasses, shining forks; several times one of us appeared about to speak, but neither of us did. The door bell rang at precisely six o’clock. We were standing looking at each other. Time stopped for a moment. I heard two voices. They said, “I’m Mistress Scarlett’s submissive cock sucker fuck toy”.

The dinner conversation was not typical for our house, but Debbie was a perfect hostess and the chatter was never awkward or stilted. Scarlett answered questions about herself, and related how uneasy she was, even after all these years, when ignorant homophobic louts at the office treated her like a freak. That was why, she explained, she had learned to take the initiative to make relationships on her own terms. I wondered what that meant.

I was sure that even Debbie would admit that Scarlett was a very attractive woman. Dressed in a low-cut blue V-neck sweater, a black pencil skirt that ran just short of the knee, dark stockings and black slingback pumps, nobody with normal vision would mistake her for anything other than a woman. A beautiful woman. We had retired to the living room. Scarlett touched up her lipstick, then sat next to Debbie on the couch where they chatted amiably. I refilled the wine glasses, then lowered myself into our arm chair. In her relaxed mood, it was clear that Debbie was beginning to think of this as just another dinner party. Scarlett looked thoughtful for a moment, then mused, as if to herself, “you know, this is an important moment. This is the last chance you will have to alter your fate.” Debbie looked perplexed. “Perhaps you would be wise to ask me to leave, just as you did when I was first invited over.” A wry smile passed Scarlett’s lips. “Of course, you didn’t know then that I had such power over you. You know that now, don’t you?” Debbie’s brow furrowed, as if she was searching for words.

Scarlett reached into her purse, then held out her lipstick. “Take this, my dear.” Debbie took it. “Hold it in your hand, palm down. In just a few seconds it will suddenly grow very hot, your hand will open and you will involuntarily drop it.” Scarlett fixed Debbie in a level gaze. After a long pause Debbie’s hand twitched once, and she looked at Scarlett with evident perplexity. Her hand opened and the lipstick fell onto the couch.

“What the hell!?” Debbie flashed me a look of concern. She looked at her hand, then at Scarlett. “Look, this is getting weird again. I’m not going to just let you...”

Just then, Scarlett leaned toward Debbie, and passed her hands across Debbie’s eyes, quietly saying, “blank”. Her tone was so soft and even that I almost missed it. Debbie seemed to deflate. Her eyes went unfocused, her lips parted. Scarlett reached out and took Debbie’s wine glass, depositing in on the table. “Blank and empty”, she repeated. “No thoughts. Just sinking into blankness, sliding easily into emptiness as you listen. Listen and watch what happens as you struggle to keep your eyes open. You try; try so hard but a heaviness is settling upon them, and you can’t seem to muster the energy to keep them open. Feel how heavy and tired you have become. As your eyes grow heavier, so do your thoughts. Blank. Empty. Heavy. You find it so pleasant to give in and let them close, and so peaceful to just listen and find yourself transported by my words. No thoughts. No ideas. No resistance. Sinking, blissfully, deeper; ever deeper.” Debbie was struggling to keep her eyelids open; her head rolling slowly side to side. Scarlett raised her hand again, waving it in a slow circle in front of Debbie’s face; Debbie struggling to follow. Then Scarlett’s hand passed down across her face. Debbie’s eye’s closed, and she slowly crumpled back onto the couch.

Scarlett glanced at me. She gave me a satisfied smile, which passed through me like a warm breeze. She announced matter of factly, “I need to have a private chat with your lovely wife, my pet.” Fixing me with her gaze, she snapped her fingers and said, “sleep”. I felt a rush of warmth, a peaceful sense of sinking, and I...

My eyes opened to a compelling scene. Debbie’s black dress and heels were discarded on the floor, and she was kneeling on the couch in her lingerie, eyes open, her hands resting on her thighs. She wore a dark leather collar around her neck, a strong silver chain dangling from it. Scarlett sat beside her, cradling an empty wine glass; a smug expression on her face. Debbie’s face was placid and impassive, her breathing soft and shallow. Scarlett stood up, smoothing her skirt. She pulled her hair back behind her shoulders, saying, “I’m pleased with you, my pet. You have prepared your beautiful wife for me exactly as I instructed. I thought you should be allowed to see what happens next.” She was standing beside the couch, facing Debbie. Scarlett reached around, unzipped her skirt, and let if slide down her long legs to the floor. She stepped out of it, gently kicking it aside. Her hands went around in front, revealing from within her satin panties an erect cock. Debbie’s eyes widened, but she didn’t move. I thought it was a majestic and beautiful cock. “It’s time for your training, my pet,” Scarlett said, swinging her hips gently. “Listen to my voice, and feel yourself falling, falling ever deeper. Stare, my dear. Stare at my hard cock and feel my control enveloping you.” Scarlett took a small step forward. Debbie’s lips parted.

Debbie sucked Scarlett’s cock with utter abandon; compelled to an act of devotion. Her entire soul was engrossed in the task; small squeaks and groans of pleasure escaping past her busy lips and tongue. Scarlett continued to speak in a calm, soothing voice, guiding my obedient wife ever deeper. Debbie’s eyes were firmly closed. She moved almost mechanically, like a puppet, a doll. “It feels delicious to obey,” Scarlett said. “Relentless arousal overwhelms your weak, submissive mind when you obey. You cannot think. Cannot resist. Submit, my pet.”

While Debbie continued her worship of Scarlett’s cock, Scarlett slowly turned to look at me. Her mysterious coy smile returned, and she asked, “Do you like what you see, my pet?” I nodded foolishly. “You have done a wonderful job delivering your wife into my control.” She let a moment pass while confusion registered on my face. “Don’t you remember?” she mocked. “Poor baby. Here, let me help.” She raised her hand. “When I snap my fingers you will remember everything. When I snap them again you will forget.”

<Snap.>

A jumble of thoughts. Lurching careening images. Splattered fragments of memories. Recollections bursting forth like fireworks. I gasped. Scarlett! Mistress Scarlett. Months of “working” together. Months of relentless hypnotic programming. Her apartment. Deeply entranced. Obedient. My mind emptied, then reprogrammed. Arousal. Bliss.

I looked at her in astonishment. So many episodes together under her control, deeply in trance, she bid me reveal my sexual fantasies and fetishes; her cruel instincts directing her how best to brandish them against me. I glanced again at Debbie, engrossed in worshiping cock. Dozens of times Mistress Scarlett had me do likewise, reducing me in stages from submission to abject slavery. So easily I became her helpless toy. Submission, like a drug, needed stronger and stronger doses. Mistress Scarlett turned me into a cock addicted, mindless fuck toy. Her fuck toy. The image arose of evenings in Mistress’ service, fully feminized and dressed as her French maid. Suddenly, I realized that under my clothes I was even then wearing the same lingerie as my wife. A tidal wave of humiliation, helplessness and arousal overwhelmed me. It was indescribable bliss. Involuntarily I rose from my chair to offer devotion to Mistress’ beautiful cock.

<Snap.>

A veil. A cloud. Confusion. Forgetfulness. Scarlett was still looking at me with her beguiling smirk, although I couldn’t figure out why. “Sit”, she said. “Watch.”

Scarlett withdrew her cock from Debbie’s mouth; a momentary gurgling note of anguish escaping. “So deep, my pet. In a moment I will touch your forehead, and you will open your eyes. Even with your eyes open, you will find yourself helplessly and powerfully under my control. I will give you commands and every time you obey me you will find that it arouses you very deeply. In fact, every time you obey, the arousal grows stronger and stronger without limit. Obedience is arousal, my pet.” Scarlett stopped momentarily to gaze at Debbie, an inscrutable look on her face, and then reached out and tenderly touched her forehead. Slowly Debbie’s eyes opened, and she looked up at Scarlett with childlike devotion. Repeat after me, my pet. ‘I am Mistress Scarlett’s slave’.”

“I am Mistress Scarlett’s slave.” The words oozed from Debbie in a whisper. She drew a breath and bit her lip.

“I am Mistress Scarlett’s submissive fuck toy.”

“I am Mistress Scarlett’s submissive fuck toy,” Debbie repeated. Her breathing grew ragged, struggling with mounting arousal.

“I exist to worship Mistress’ cock.”

“I exist to worship....Mistress’...cock.” Her hips were bucking involuntarily, her eyes glassy.

“Good girl. Listen carefully. In a minute you will present yourself for the final, irreversible step. Understand this,” she paused to draw Debbie’s chin upwards with her index finger to meet her gaze, “I plan to fuck your brains out—quite literally—and turn you into a cock-addicted mindless sex doll. Trust me, there is nothing that will reverse this. I will own you forever.” She paused to regard her conquest. Debbie was grinding her thighs together, her eyes rolling, breathing in ragged gasps. “Is this what you want, my pet?”

“Yes!” Then again, softer, but with palpable anguish, “yes”.

What happened next was sexual sorcery of the highest order. Slowly, and with an incongruous tenderness, Scarlett positioned my wife on the couch on all fours, her beautiful ass presented. Scarlett slowly walked in front of Debbie, took the chain from her collar, pulled it taught and passed it under the leg of a coffee table. Scarlett passed her manicured fingernails over Debbie’s pussy several times, as if to gauge her readiness. Debbie twitched, then meowed, then writhed. Scarlett positioned herself behind Debbie, and began to rhythmically rub the tip of her beautiful cock against Debbie’s pussy. Each time her cock made contact Scarlett would whisper, “submit” and “obey”. Debbie’s lips soon began to move, repeating a barely audible refrain, “submit”, “obey”. Scarlett resumed speaking in her soft voice. “Blank, my pet. Blank and empty.” Debbie’s breathing grew deeper and more regular. “Nothing exists but Mistress’ commands. My power grows ever stronger, as you grow ever weaker and more obedient.” The rhythmic rubbing of her cock had become a tentative teasing penetration. Debbie’s hips were straining for more cock, but the tension on her collar restrained her. Her desperate arousal filled the room like a fog.

Then it happened. Scarlett thrust herself deeply inside of Debbie. There was a wide-eyed gasp, and Scarlett pushed Debbie’s head against the couch, holding her down firmly. Debbie writhed and squirmed, but soon grew quiescent. Scarlett fucked relentlessly; long, hard thrusts of pure dominant erotic power. Debbie seemed to simultaneously cave in and explode. Her eyes rolled up into her head. She gasped and gurgled incomprehensible syllables in rhythm to the thrusts. Her legs spasmed. She drooled. There was no mistaking that this was fucking for control. Debbie was losing. It was exquisite. Scarlett was focused with almost athletic intensity. It went on and on; Debbie reduced to an incoherent writhing victim of tidal waves of submissive arousal.

Scarlett broke stride only for one moment to glance at me, then she suddenly reached forward to grab Debbie under each arm and lift her from the couch. She continued lifting, such that Debbie was on her knees, her upper body suspended in the air, her breasts bouncing, her head and arms lolling and dangling. Her legs were spasming with the thrusts. She looked like a toy with the batteries running down. She lacked now even the energy to properly convulse. My wife was being happily fucked into unconsciousness. Scarlett took this as a signal to thrust faster and harder, and Debbie rebounded into a brief episode of eye rolling and muttering, before she again lapsed into stupor. Scarlett drew back her hips and gave one last mighty thrust that propelled my wife, her slave, onto the couch, unconscious.

It was suddenly quiet. Debbie was a mess. Her bra strap was broken. Her stockings were wet and rumpled. Her lipstick and eye makeup smeared. She was beautiful. Scarlett gently rearranged her slave’s jumbled limbs to make her more comfortable and threw a blanket over her.

Scarlett took a breath, then looked at me. “Your turn, my pet.” I felt myself kneeling, mouth open.