The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Toots2749:

So I’m going to be out of touch for a few days.

Hoofer:

Business trip again?

Toots2749:

Um, yep.

Hoofer:

Where to?

Toots2749:

Nashville, actually

The message hit her like a shot to the mouth. She sat back in her chair. Unsure how to respond

Hoofer:

That’s where I live.

Toots2749:

Oh, right.

That was unconvincing, she thought.

Hoofer:

Would you like to meet?

Toots2749:

Well, I’m going to be pretty busy. I’m not sure it’s going to work out on this trip. That’s why I didn’t mention it sooner.

That and the fact that you’re a wuss, she thought.

Hoofer:

Oh. Well, have a good trip. Go to the field. Relax for me and drift off to the beautiful green field. Feeling calm, sleepy, floaty.

Toots2749:

Mmmmmm.

Hoofer:

Very good. Feeling so safe. Knowing you can trust me completely. Letting go.

Hoofer:

It feels so good to relax and read my words and to obey when I tell you to drift.

Hoofer:

Float

Hoofer:

Relax

Hoofer:

Let go

Hoofer:

Go to the field.

Hoofer:

How do you feel?

Toots2749:

Mmmmm. Warm.

Hoofer:

Very good. Feeling even warmer and happier each time you answer any of my questions.

Hoofer:

What hotel are you staying in in Nashville?

Toots2749:

Holiday Inn.

Hoofer:

Good boy. You please me.

Hoofer:

You should be proud.

Toots2749:

Thank you, mistress.

Hoofer:

Now, in a moment, I will count to three. You will wake up, but feel very tired and ready for bed. You will bid me good-night, log off, and sleep well. Do you understand?

Toots2749:

Mmmmmm. Yes, mistress.

Hoofer:

Very good.

Hoofer:

One

Hoofer:

Two

Hoofer:

Three. Awake

Toots2749:

Well, I should pack it in.

Hoofer:

Have a safe trip.

Toots2749:

Will do.

THE NEXT EVENING

She took another deep breath to steady her nerves and, she hoped, her voice. This was the boldest thing she’d ever done with anyone she’d ever met on the web. And clearly it was all her doing—there was no question that Toots, or Mark—it hadn’t taken her long to find out his real name in one of their first online trances—wasn’t excited by this prospect.

Or was he? It wasn’t like they hadn’t gone for days at a time without talking before. There was no reason why he had to tell her he was coming to her hometown. And, dammit, he wanted a mistress—about that she was absolutely certain. What’s the point of having one if they don’t push you beyond your comfort zone sometimes?

The phone rang. “Holiday Inn Nashville Downtown. How may I serve you today?”

“Mark Southington’s room, please.” Even after the deep breaths, her voice croaked a little on “room.” God, she was nervous.

As she expected, the phone rang through to the room’s voicemail. She lowered her voice to disguise it as best she could.

“Mark, I need to reschedule your appointment in this office tomorrow. Please call me at 510-555-1212—we’ll be working late.”

LATER THAT NIGHT

It was a little after 9:30 when Mark walked in from dinner, pleasantly buzzed. Actually, more than buzzed—he could be legally classified as drunk. He was focused primarily on maneuvering his way across the lobby to the elevator in as direct a path as seemed possible.

He didn’t notice the woman sitting alone in the lobby, watching him from behind a magazine. He didn’t pay any attention even as she stood and walked quickly to an enclosed phone booth at the back of the lobby.

Once safely in the room, he headed first for the head. After a relieving pit stop, he noticed the message light was illuminated, and dialed in for the message.

Oy. How could she not leave her company’s name? Which appointment was it? His schedule started with a breakfast at 8 a.m. If that was off, he could go back out.

There’s no way they’d still be working, he thought, but let’s try the number anyway.

In the lobby, Shirley’s cell phone rang in the enclosed phone booth she had relocated to.

“Hello.”

“Hi, this is Mark Southington. I’m returning a message.”

“I know you are, Mark. Go to the field.”

“What?

“Relax, Mark. Go to the field. The beautiful, grassy field, where the sun shines on you and you can lay back and relax on the warm soft grass.”

“Breathe deeply and smell the fresh grass. Knowing you are safe in this beautiful, calm place. Aren’t you?”

She heard his deep breaths on the other end of the line.

“Yes, mmisstress.”

“Very good. Relax deeper for me. My voice helping you calm down and spiral deeper into hypnosis. Knowing that listening and obeying my words is the most important thing in the world for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, misstress.”

“What room are you in. Mark?”

“7—5—1”

“Very good. Relax again. In a moment, I will tell you to hang up the phone, but I want you to remain in this nice, comfy, deep trance. In a few moments, you’ll hear a knock on the door, and you will let me in, remaining in your nice, deep, deep, deeeeep trance. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Very good. Hang up the phone and relax.”

Mark did as he was told, his eyes fluttering as he wavered under the twin sedating effects of the phone hypnosis and the after-dinner cocktail. He didn’t have long to enjoy this semi-lucid state: a knock came at the door only a few moments later.

He rose and walked slowly, but steadily to the door, opened it, then stood back.

“Good boy,” she said as she swept past him into the room. “Close the door.”

She looked back and was happy to see him smiling slightly, and wobbling, with his eys mostly closed. “Come sit on the bed, Mark, and we can talk.”

He did as she asked.

“Good boy. Relax deeper. Calmer. Warmer. Feeling your head get lighter and lighter. Your whole body feeling light, dizzy, floaty. Safe.”

“You’re doing so well. Just drift with me. Concentrating on my voice. Listening so well. Relaxxxing so well. Obeying so well.”

She was pleased to see him deflate a little more, his head falling further towards his chest, when she said the word “obeying.”

“Lying in your field. Feeling the warm sun shine down upon you. Feeling it beat down. Warm. Warmer. Starting to feel hot. You can feel it, can’t you, Mark?”

His breathing was becoming a bit shorter. “Yyyess, mistress—hottt.”

“Yes, it’s very hot. Uncomfortably hot. You can’t stay like this. What can you do?”

He was almost panting now. “Ssstrip?”

“Yes, that would help. I think you need to do that. You have my permission.”

She was impressed by how quickly his hands moved to his neck, loosening his tie and ripping it over his head before attacking the buttons on his white oxford shirt, as his loose neck muscles left his head rolling wildly on his chest. That was off in minutes, and his undershirt, which in just a few minutes had been soaked translucent with sweat, was next. Mark breathed an obvious sigh of relief.

But he wasn’t done. His belt and pants button were next, and he hooked his thumbs into his boxers and removed his pants and shorts together, catching his socks with the same motion. After standling slightly to het his pants down, he collapsed back onto the bed with a massive sigh.

She caught her breath as well, getting her first look at him naked. He was relatively fit for an early-middle-aged man with a light coating of hair in all the appropriate places. His complexion was pretty white, but in these days of ozone depletion and skin cancer, who wasn’t? His slightly below-average cock sitting limp but coiled above his sack.

“Very good. You’re much more comfortable now. Feeling pleasantly warm but not hot. Lighter without your clothes on. Drifting more easily now. Listening more deeply now. Feeling so happy to hear my voice. So happy that I am here.”

“In fact, you feel so much more comfortable, you’re not even aware that you removed your clothes. There’s no reason to remember how hot it was, and there’s no reason to remember that you stripped.”

“In a few moments, I will count to three and you will wake up. Even awake, you will not immediately remember that you are naked. You will not remember how I came to be in your room. You will only know how happy you are that I am here, and we will chat like old friends.”

“But as we talk, you will find yourself noticing how attractive I am. You’ll be particularly focused on my shoes. You remember how much you love shoes, don’t you, Mark?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Of course you do. As we talk, you will find yourself more and more distracted by my pretty shoes. It will be difficult for you to think of anything else. You know how hard it can be to think, don’t you, Mark?”

“Hard.”

“Yes. You’ll find it very hard to think about anything but my shoes. You’ll want to get close to them. To touch their beautiful, smooth surface. Touching my shoes will be electric for you, awakening all of your memories of how we got here. But until then, you’ll forget everything except how happy you are. Happy and comfortable to see me.”

“Now, it’s time to wake up. One. Starting to emerge. Two. Feeling more and more aware. And Three.”

His head popped up and his eyes showed full life immediately. She breathed in relief again. “I’m so glad you could make it over!”

She was worried that he’d immediately realize what was going on and react strongly, even violently. She knew his body was more powerful than hers. Perhaps that’s why it was so enticing to demonstrate the strength of her mind.

She replied, in an exaggerated Southern drawl, despite the fact that she had grown up in a half-dozen states, “Well, I couldn’t let you come down South without showing some of our faa-mous hospitality!”

She bent over to the bag at her feet. “I brought one of our local specialties—would you like a drink?”

Although she sat up straight in her chair, his head didn’t move—his gaze was locked towards the floor, where her feet rested in their soft black leather, open-backed Mary Jane mules—his favorite style. Her legs were bare beneath the shores and their distinctive instep strap, and the soft leather wrapped her foot snugly, so he could almost make out some details of it through the pillowlike surface of the shoe.

She wiggled her toes and was happy to see him breathe deeply and leave his gaze fixed. “I said, would you like one of our local specialty drinks?”

He blushed deeply as his head snapped up. “I’m sorry. Um, sure, I’d like a drink. What did you say it was?”

“Something very exotic,” she giggled. “Jack Daniels and Coke!”

He laughed, too. “Sounds positively Tennesseean to me.”

“Why don’t you grab some glasses?” She momentarily considered sending him down the hall for ice, but concluded that in his current state, that would generate more questions than she wanted. She would have to be content with watching his bare ass sway a bit as he padded over to the sink outside the bathroom to retrieve the plastic hotel cups. She discretely rubbed at her moistening pussy.

“Ah, very classy,” he joked as he slowly brought his gaze upward from the floor as he returned to the bed. He placed the cups on the desk, and she stood to mix the drinks, turning her back. He leaned far forward on the bed, doubled over at the waist as he tried to get the closest possible view of her soft shoes. Was that a scent of her pretty little feet, he wondered? He tried to make small talk to distract her from his excursion, but she was obviously keenly aware of his effort. She spun suddenly, and he leapt upward, slamming his head into one of her hands, and jarring the cup from it.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” he stammered.

“That’s OK,” she giggled. “Maybe you need to be cut off.”

“Wow. Yeah, could be.”

“Why don’t you get a couple of wet towels. You can clean up the floor while I clean off your head!”

“Sounds like an equitable division of labor.” As he stood to head for the bathroom, revealing that the spring on his coiled cock was triggered by his staring, he realized that cleaning the floor would get him even closer to the objects of his desire. He almost ran to the bathroom, his balls and little pockets of fat jiggling with each step.

He returned and bent to his task diligently, starting at the edge of the stain and working closer to her. Once he was in reach, she took her towel and began gently massaging his head in a spiral patern. His cleaning moved into sync with her strokes. His eyes were fixed on her shoes, and his mouth hung open a bit as he was mesmerized by the new shoes’ smooth, unspoiled leather and soles.

“How’s it coming?” she asked quietly.

“Fine.” he replied blandly.

She flexed her toes again. “Did any spill on my shoes?”

“Ummm, let me see,” he said in a low mumble, the most volume he could coax through his rapidly tightening throat. “Maybe a few drops.”

“Be sure to get them there—but don’t use the towel. Water would spoil these new shoes. I think you should use your mouth.”

The towel was cast aside as his hands gently cupped the shoe to his face and he began kissing and licking at the smooth leather. A massive sigh and exhalation emerged from his mouth, followed by a rapidly increasing breathing pattern. But still he cradled her foot.

“How do you feel now, Mark?”

He was able to tear his mouth away, but keep the shoe nuzzled on his cheek as he replied, “scared.”

“Scared of what?” she asked him.

“Your power.” He said, before resuming his kisses.

“Good answer. And appropriate. Look at you—you’re naked before a woman you’ve never met in person before, cowering on the floor, cupping and kissing her shoes, and realizing how weak you are is only making your little cock harder and harder. You’re a good boy, but you’re very weak.”

“So easily drawn in. Entranced. By my voice. By my shoes. By my power. Your mistress’s power. You feel it now, don’t you? Carrying you down, down, down deeper and deeper. More and more relaxed. Totally obedient. Totally submissive. Totally controlled.”

“So happy to serve,” she left him to his ministrations and reached for her own glass of Jack and Coke. As the warm liquour coated her throat, she slipped her free hand beneath the waistband on her pleated black skirt where her exposed pussy—she had decided, accurately, as it turned out, that panties and hose would be wasted on this evening. She moaned and flexed her feet a few times as her hand found her sopping pussy and spread her natural lubrication around, rubbing her engorged clit.

She threw down the rest of her drink, enjoying the quick, light-headed buzz it generated. She looked down at her boy-slave, and decided to test how far she could push direct commands on him. Rather than skirting the issue, as she had with the suggestions of heat that led him to strip, she simply cooed: “you’re doing so well, but you want totouch more of my skin, don’t you? My shoe is sexy, but you’re dying to see the foot beneath it. You may, Mark. Go ahead, slip off my shoe, and show my how much you love my bare feet.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Both hands flew up. He slowly, gently, lovingly slipped the sopping shoe off her foot and laid it softly on the floor, before turning back to appreciate the deep red gloss on her toes. He leaned in.

“That’s right. Breathe deeply. Smell my sweety scent. It’s intoxicating, isn’t it? Makes you feel a little dizzy? A little euphoric? It’s addictive. Smell, and dream about how my toes must taste. Their salty, smooth sweetness. Go ahead. Taste them.”

He bent to his task, licking his lips to lubricate them, then taking her big toe into his mouth, curling his tongue to cup it, and sucking. Gently at first, then more insistently, sliding it in and out of his mouth, never breaking contact.

Confident that he was consumed with his task, she let her own head roll back and began to pleasure herself more strenuously, feeling the wave of feeling mount up. On the floor, meanwhile, Mark needed more, opening his mouth wider and taking two toes, then three, then stretching his lips to take in her whole foot, from toes to arch, keeping his teeth back so that they just lightly tickled her skin and he rocked back and forth. She felt the wave of her own orgasm crash over her, and despite her flailing, he maintained his intimate contact with her feet. She came again, adjusted her rhythm, and rode it to another climax, squealing in delight.

“You may slow down, Mark. You’ve done so well. Proven yourself very well. Let me see your cock. It excites you to display yourself to me this way, naked, cowering on the floor, doesn’t it? You feel all of the blood rushing to your cock, making it ... mmmmmm ... so hard, so thick.”

“Aching to be touched, but I want it to be touched in a special way. Take off my other shoe Mark, and slip your cock inside.”

He retrieved the dry backless mule and slipped his hard member into it, letting the sole slap up against his sack. The precum mixed with her footsweat to lubricate the shoe almost instantly.

“Show me how you masturbate with girls’ shoes, Mark. Slide it in and out, feel your cock rubbing against the smooth, new insides. Feel your arousal growing. Your muscles so tense, yearning for oxygen. Your breathing is quickening, almost panting now. You want to cum. You need to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Wanting”

“Aching”

“Needing”

“Tell me.”

“Please mistress. I, uh, I, need to cum. May I, mistress? PLease permit me?”

“What must you do first?”

“I must ... obeeey.”

“Very good answer. Good boy. Feeling it building, but not releasing until I say you may...”

“CUM NOW!”

He let out a guttural moan as he shot a half dozen spurts into the dainty shoe.

“Very good,” she said quietly. “Let it all out. Release. Relax. Go deeper. Deeper into trance. Deeper into submission.”

“You may put the shoes back on my feet now, then lie back and rest.”

She contemplated the man lying nude before her. While she’d love nothing better than to command him to take her, that seemed a violation too far even for this evening of violations. She breathed deeply and closed her own eyes for a moment, enjoying a light self-trance, envying his state of complete release. Finally, after a few moments of meditation that included flexing her wet, sticky toes in the violated mary jane, her eyes snapped open.

“You have one task left to perform for your mistress, Mark. Approach my feet. Feel your vision narrow so my black shoes, my sexy mary janes, are all you can see. Concentrate, Mark, deeper and deeper. Remove my left shoe, and behold my feet. See them glistening. Do you know what makes it so wet, Mark?”

“No, mistress.”

“You did. And you must clean them. Lick my toes clean, enjoy the taste. It’s an addictive juice, making you more and more my slave.” She watched approvingly as he picked up his pace at the first mention of this magic word. Soon her tootsies were spotless, and Mark was hard again.

“Look at you, horny again. There’s a word for people like you—hypnoslut. Do you enjoy that? Being recognized for the slut you are? Go ahead, touch yourself. Cum for me, slave.”

It took little time after that, and soon his head was jerking back and forth in spasms.

“Very good. Now relax.” His butt settled down onto his heels as he relaxed into a kneeling position.

“You have done very well tonight. Now, it’s time for rest. In a few moments, I will count to three, and you will stand, climb into your bed and sleep until your alarm goes off in the morning. You will awaken fully refreshed, remembering only the deep, restful sleep you experienced, and how wonderful your visit has been. You will think about how nice it would be to return soon. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Good boy. Now, it’s bedtime. One, feeling very sleepy. Two, wanting to get to bed. And three.”

He stood with the same robotic cadence she had observed upon first entering the room. In less than a minute he was under the cover and breathing slowly.

She admired him for a moment, then slipped her abused shoe back on, took a moment to check herself in the mirror, then approached the door. Checking the peephole to be sure no one was close, she slipped out quietly and quickly.

She was confident that his first visit to Nashville would not be his last.