The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mark trundled in from his business trip a little after 10. He was exhausted. He was never a good traveler, always seeming to have trouble sleeping in hotel rooms. But this trip seemed different. He had awoken that morning after what felt like a very good and deep sleep. Yet, as the day went on, he found it harder and harder to concentrate on his work.

And he certainly couldn’t use honesty to beg for forgiveness from the clients he was meeting. His distraction was generally triggered by womens’ legs or feet, and he felt as though he was occasionally slipping off into drowsy daydreams whenever a pair of stockinged legs or shiny shoes entered his view. In fact, the stewardess, who had caught his attention by matching her standard navy hose with shiny black mid-heeled loafers, had to shake him out of a particularly happy reverie to get him to re-buckle his seatbelt during the final approach on his flight home.

His wife, Ellen, was already in bed when he got there, but rolled over when she heard him come in. “How was Nashville?”

“You know what? I really liked it,” he said, surprising himself with his enthusiasm. Mark was not a huge fan of “flyover country.”

“You’re serious?” she said, the shock of his answer rousing her a bit from her sleep.

“Yeah, it’s a neat town: The people are friendly, and it looks like there are a ton of things to do.”

“All involving clog dancing?” she asked with an amused lilt. Mark’s shoe fetish was not a secret in the Southington household, although the couple rarely did anything to exploit that common knowledge.

Mark was a little annoyed to be patronized. “Yeah, that’s it. No, seriously, we both love roots music, and there’s a ton of that down there. We should think about a long weekend.”

“Whatever.”

And the topic died for several weeks. Until one day, Mark saw Ellen’s number pop up on the caller-ID screen at his office.

“Hey, Nashville-boy.”

“Hiya. What’s up?”

“You’re never going to believe where this year’s big HR trade show is. Nashville! I need to go, and was thinking we could make it a getaway weekend.”

“You’re kidding. All right. When?”

“October. We’ll have plenty of time to plan.”

“Sounds good.”

Toots2749:

You’re never going to guess where we’re coming.

Hoofer:

Um, in bed? :—p

Toots2749:

Yikes. You know what I meant. I’m taking a long weekend in Nashville next month.

Hoofer:

Alone?

Toots2749:

:) Nope, actually. My wife has a conference there, and I’m her escort.

Hoofer:

Sounds very businesslike.

Toots2749:

You know what I mean!

Shirley sat back, contemplating her next move. She thought back to the night she had used her deeply implanted trance trigger to seduce Mark secretly during his last trip to her city. That night had played a starring role in her fantasies ever since. She really loved exercising the power she wielded during that encounter, but she wondered how realistic it was to think it might happen again. Since the topic had never come up in their chats, she was quite sure that Mark’s seduction remained a secret even to him, locked away deep beneath his conscious mind. And he certainly hadn’t asked for it: Her plan was set in motion when he ticked her off by trying to hide the fact he was coming to Nashville on that trip.

He obviously had not been looking for an in-person trance then, and she didn’t expect that outlook to have changed—especially with his wife in the same city. At the same time, though, the fact that he had shared his plans with her this time suggested he had enjoyed his last visit.

And as she slipped her hand between her legs, she couldn’t ignore the damp wonderland she encountered. This is making me so hot, she thought, and began to hunt-and-peck on the keyboard with her remaining hand.

Hoofer:

So what are your touring plans?

Toots2749:

Not sure. Since I’ve been there, I’ll need to come up with some. Especially nighttime, since she’ll be in the conference during the day.

Hoofer:

Want a local’s help?

Toots2749:

Am I in any position to turn it down?

Shirley smiled. No, he probably wasn’t. His little joke about his suggestibility was made all the funnier for her because only she knew the extent to which her control over his mind had been proven. In any event, she began working on a plan. Starting with a late-night entertainment suggestion.

Hoofer:

You should definitely catch the show at the Rolling Eye.

Toots2749:

Really? What kind of music? Is it like the old folk-music club in San Francisco, The Hungry I?

Hoofer:

Something like that. You should definitely check it out. I know some people at the door—we can get you guys a good table.

Toots2749:

Are you sure?

Hoofer:

What are friends for?

Now it was Mark’s turn to pause and search for the right words.

Toots2749:

Well, I guess I’d appreciate that. It’s just, well, um, listen, obviously my wife doesn’t know about our little “relaxation games,” and I’m not sure how exactly I’d explain it to her, so...

Hoofer:

:) Why would you have to explain it to her?

Toots2749:

If, somehow, you were thinking of meeting us?

Hoofer:

LOL. Oh, the thought crosses my mind. But don’t worry. I’m not in that line of work—home-wrecking.

Toots2749:

Well, thanks for the offer. I can’t wait.

Neither can I, Shirley thought, before making an excuse about the phone ringing and logging off. She sat back and contemplated the chat. Mark was clearly devoted to his wife—and that was not an emotion Shirley took lightly. His online chats reflected his need to act out in some way on deeply held fetishes he was scared to share even with her. But they were dangerous, too. If he were ever unmasked, explanations could only go so far. She was his mistress, but considered herself a friend, too. If, somehow, she could find a way to help him bring his deep desires safely into the open of his relationship ... hell, she might even qualify for sainthood.

She reached for the phone and called her friend Ed, the star of the floor show at the Rolling Eye. Ed was a stage hypnotist.

“Hi, Ed”

“Hiya, Kiddo.”

“Any interest in abandoning some of your ethics?”

“I’d have to find them first. What do you have in mind?”

“I’ve got some honored guests for your show in a couple of weeks ...”

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER

The HR conference was predictably boring and overstimulating at the same time, leaving Ellen pretty pooped by the time Mark arrived to pick her up for dinner, but an outside table in the comfortable Fall air and a couple of glasses of sweet iced tea and some spicy chicken helped her find her second wind.

“Up for some nightlife?” Mark asked.

“Yeah, I think so. What did you have in mind?”

“I was talking to some of my clients down here and they suggested stopping by a nightclub—the ‘Rolling Eye’”

“What kind of music?

“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s see, it’s a music club in Nashville. You think maybe, country?”

“Watch the snark—you were the one who thought it was worth spending the weekend.”

“Indeed,” he said, laughing. “What exactly was I thinking?”

“Anyhow, let’s get rolling,” he said, enjoying the pun as it rolled off his lips. “Maybe the music will inspire the spirit and ...”

“Settle down, pardner...”

The Rolling Eye was actually in a fairly suburban setting on the fringes of the city. Ellen was annoyed about having to drive out there, but the place looked both authentically country and clean—a rare enough combination. Ellen was surprised to see signs advertising “Ed Around, Master Hypnotist” as that evening’s headline act, but the music coming from inside sounded good—and with Mark’s suggestion of some post-show events, she wasn’t sure she wanted to stick around that long, anyway. Her daydream ended at the sound of Mark’s voice.

“Mark Southington. I believe I have a table?” Ellen cocked an eyebrow. Thinking ahead? That wasn’t like Mark. Of course, he mentioned that a client had suggested this place, and remembered how nice the Southerners could be. They probably made the reservation for him.

Her surprise was matched by his as the host showed them to a table for two dead-center before the stage, but they didn’t question the apparent mistake—it was rare enough that they got to go first-class.

The beer was cold and the music was crisp as they chatted about their lives. By the time they had retired their second beers, the band had taken a break, replaced by a canned, droning techno beat. It would have been annoying if it were any louder, but as it was, it was just easy enough to tune out. The club was filling up and their voices were part of a low murmur over the background music until the music came up and the lights came low. The headliner was starting.

Ellen cursed to Mark under her breath “Damn. The down side of these seats is that it’s going to be tough to leave.”

“Seriously. Eh, what the heck? I haven’t seen a hypnotist show since college orientation—let’s see how it goes?”

“All right,” she said unenthusiastically. She remembered once catching Mark reading some porn website—the Erotic Mind Control Stories Archive—and she secretly suspected this was a fetish for him. But unlike his shoe fascination, the couple had never discussed that day.

As Ed appeared to applause, Mark looked around and noticed that the many video screens that had been displaying sports had all switched over to a graphic image—a white eye floating gently on a light blue background, the center of the eye twirling in a slow lazy spiral. Ah, he thought—the “Rolling Eye.” Mark realized by now that he had been set up, but didn’t really feel too nervous about it—the beers had left him somewhat mellow, and what could happen in front of an entire clubful of people? He sat back and regarded the floating eye again—it really was quite dizzying. He felt himself swaying a bit in time to its twirling, not even registering that he was also bouncing in time to the music.

On stage, Ed spotted Mark and Ellen at the “VIP” table. Jeez, Shirley was right—she did have him trained well. Ellen, on the other hand, looked like a strong rookie—the beers had weakened her resistance a bit, and while she wasn’t watching the video screens, she was slouched down in her chair a bit, and gently bounced to the music.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” Ed’s intro broke both Southingtons our of their reverie. “I’m so glad to welcome you all here to the Rolling Eye. I’m Ed Around,” at this, he paused for a moment to let the awful football pun sink in with the audience.

One obvious business traveler at the next table from Mark and Ellen couldn’t stifle a groan. “That’s right sir, welcome to the South,” Ed said, exaggerating his accent. “We love our football, and tonight, we’re going to play some games. Don’t worry—by the end of the night, I’ll have you cracking jokes like a good-ol’ boy.”

The audience laughed and relaxed, which was, after all, the point of Ed’s opening monologue. After a few more minutes of jokes, he thought it was time to begin.

“Now, I’m sure you’ve all seen hypnotists who can entrance the whole room with a snap,” Ed stopped to snap his fingers. “Damn! You’re all still awake! Couldya try and work with me? Maybe I should start slower. Two at a time seems like a decent place to start. Is there a couple that would like to volunteer?”

Mark was itching to raise his hand, but wanted to catch Ellen’s eye for permission, first. Ellen was looking down, like a seventh-grader who hadn’t done her homework and thought avoiding eye contact with the teacher was the best strategy for skating through class.

Too late. She looked up when Ed’s shoes came into her field of vision. “One thing y’all might not know about me is that I’m near-sighted. So instead of searching the room, how about you guys take a turn?” he said, raising his hands to enlist the audience’s support in winning over the reluctant, yet happily buzzed couple.

Mark squeezed her hand and shrugged, mouthing the words “why not?” Ellen surprised herself by rising willingly, and the couple, holding hands lovingly, mounted the stage, taking the two, softly cushioned seats that had been set out for them.

Ed asked the couple to introduce themselves—first names would be fine—then appealed to the audience for quiet as he began his induction, flicking a remote control in his pocket that made the music throb slightly louder, and the rolling eye on the biggest screen at the back of the room—directly in the young couple’s viewpoint—shine even brighter.

Mark was already fading, and Ellen felt the beer swirling around her head and making everything feel a bit fuzzy, too, as Ed launched into his induction, using his low-pitched smooth voice to convince the couple to relax further. Ed knew Mark’s trigger, so he wasn’t shocked when Mark’s head slumped downward as soon as he began to suggest that the couple envision themselves in a soft, green field, with a light breeze blowing and a warm sun beating down. Ed smiled as Ellen demonstrated what a quick learner she could be.

The suggestion of the warm sun and soft grass soon had Mark stripping off his casual shirt and shoes Ellen sliding out of her gray suit jacket and shiny black crocodile-print loafers—Mark wasn’t the only one in the room with a foot fetish, and why should Ellen’s pretty, sheer stocking-clad feet be her secret? Ed put them through the stage-hypnotist’s paces, chasing butterflies around the stage, waking them, then dropping them back into their trance with his newly-established “go to the field” trigger, having them act out a scene from Tarzan.

After about ten minutes, Ed decided it was time for the second act. He had Ellen and Mark get dressed, then began to craft a post-hypnotic suggestion. “In a few moments, I will count to five and you will wake up, remembering everything that happened tonight, and what a good time you had. You’ll feel happy and refreshed and ready to enjoy the rest of your evening. But you’ll also realize how full your bladders are,” the crowd giggled and hooted at this suggestion. “You’ll need to go to the bathroom, but you won’t be able to leave your seats until you hear me say “let’s move on.” Those words will magically free you from your seats—you’ll be able to get up, gather yourself, and head out to the bathroom. Do you understand?”

The crowd was tittering as Ed went through his count and invited the couple to take a bow. The laughter and applause only got louder as the audience noticed how tightly Mark and Ellen were pressing their legs together, breathing heavily, and crouching over a bit at the waist. When they returned to their seats, and Ed began telling a few more jokes while more seats were arranged for his next scene, their faces only got redder, their heads whipping around, as though they were looking for an exit. Ed’s monologue was forgotten as the audience focused—and laughed at—the couple’s growing discomfort. Finally, it was time to set them free.

“So, let’s move on, shall we?”

Mark and Ellen were up like a bolt, Ellen grabbing her purse and Mark dropping some cash on the table as they each bolted for the door. Ellen got there first—Mark was delayed by a joker who thought it would be funny to stick his leg out as Mark rushed by. But within 30 seconds, relief was at hand.

As soon as they left the room, Ed winked to his friend at the barstool, and set about picking his next subjects. Shirley slipped out to the lobby, and positioned herself just outside the door to the lounge outside the rest rooms.

She took a deep breath to calm herself as she heard the men’s toilet flush, the water running, and the door swing open. Her heart rate picked up as she tried to will Mark to stay in the dark lounge until Ellen was done—she wanted to confront the couple together, and to do it in the dark, sheltered lounge. She forced herself to relax when Mark did not appear and when the sounds of running water from the bathroom confirmed that Ellen was done.

As the womens’ room door slammed shut and she heard Mark and Ellen giggle and slap high fives over their experiences, she stepped into the doorway.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Could you both go to the field?”

The look of surprise on the couple’s faces from being interrupted in what they thought was a personal moment washed away fairly quickly, as their face muscles slackened and their shoulders slouched.

“Very good. You are doing very well. You have had a good time tonight, haven’t you? And now it’s time to leave. In a moment, I will count to five, and you will wake up and walk out to your car. You will be very focused on this task. So focused that you will not pay attention to any disturbances or people around you. You will simply walk to the car, unlock the doors, and get in. Do you understand?”

The couple nodded sluggishly, and Shirley counted to five. The exuberance in the couple’s faces did not return—replaced by a blank, businesslike look as their eyes focused on the club’s door. Shirley fell into step behind them, glad to see they crossed the lobby without anyone else noticing that the night’s famous twosome had become a threesome. Mark pulled the remote from his pocket as they neared the car and pressed the button that unlocked all of the doors. Shirley slipped into the back seat as the couple settled into their seats in the front. She was ready to pounce as soon as the doors were closed and the interior light went dark, but caught herself as she watched Mark pull Ellen into a loving embrace and a deep French kiss. She enjoyed the view for several seconds before Mark placed the key in the ignition and she decided it was time to make her move. Shirley used her magic words again.

“Go to the field,” she said. Mark and Ellen’s heads whirled around at the first syllable as they found themselves shocked to have company in the rental car.

“What the ...”

“Who are ...”

Their protests died off as the content of her words sunk in. She dropped her bomb again, for good measure.

“Go to the field. The soft, warm, green field. Feel the grasses cradle and tickle you. Relax. Breathe in the clean, clear air. Deep breaths. Very good, Mark. Very good, Ellen. Deep, deep breaths. Go to the field. Feel yourselves slipping into a comfortable, relaxing trance. Deeper and deeper. Calm, warm, safe, in the field.”

They responded well to the induction. Shirley was pleased to see that the big rental car featured a nice, big front bench seat. “Mark, I want you to remain in your nice, deep sleep, but slide over to the middle seat. Put your feet next to Ellen’s.”

Mark did as he was told. Shirley reached up to switch the dome light to “off,” then opened the back door and scampered around into the driver’s seat, pulling the door closed behind her. The slam seemed to rouse Ellen a bit, but Mark was well out of it. She repeated her mantras about the field a few more times, then shook her head wildly to make sure she wasn’t feeling any cobwebs from the induction herself—inadvertent self-induction could be the hypnotist’s worst enemy.

She started the car and threaded her way out of the parking lot and onto the street, turning for a quiet, suburban neighborhood, rather than the hotel district where the car’s valet parking spot was waiting. 10 minutes later, she fished the automatic garage door opener from her purse and guided the car into her own garage. She turned off the engine and touched the button again to close the door. She assessed her charges—their faces relaxed, but upright.

“You’ve done very well. You should be very proud of yourselves. You’re relaxing and enjoying the field nicely, just as you should be.” She was pleased to see smiles cross their faces as they absorbed the compliment.

“You’d like to stay in this nice, relaxed state, wouldn’t you?” They nodded. “Very good. You may stay nice and calm and relaxed. I give you permission, but you most move. In a moment, I will get out of the car, and I need you to follow me. I will help you find a new, more comfortable field where you may lie down and relax even deeper. Do you understand?”

The couple’s voices scratched, as though their throats had not swallowed in 20 minutes, which, of course, they had not. “Ye-s.”

“Very good. Come with me.”

Shirley opened the car door and slowly walked through the garage door into her finished basement. The soft track lighting case an amber glow on the walls, and pillows carpeted the floor.

She turned to regard the New Yorkers as they stepped unsteadily and fought to keep their eyes open to watch where they were going.

“Very good, can you see the new field? You may each lie down here.” She reached out to guide them to the middle of the room, then left them to collapse to the floor. “Feel the soft landing, the grasses cradling you even more comfortably than before.”

“You are almost totally relaxed. Feel how light your head is as the tension drains out of it. Feel your neck relax as the grasses take over all support of your heavy head. Take a deep breath, then let it out, expelling all of the tension from your chest and arms. Feel the relaxation draining downward. Pushing through your legs.” Her pace quickened. “Through your thighs. Feel the tension and stress wash down, Down, DOWN!”

“Past your knees, totally relaxed. Through your legs, to your ankles and to your feet. Feel it pooling in your feet. It is trapped there. There is nowhere for it to go.” The couple’s feet began twitching, and their breathing got heavy. Their feet felt as though they were straining to break the bounds of their shoes. Mark even grunted as he arched his feet and pushed his heels downward, trying to excise the tension.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to be completely relaxed?”

“Yes,” the couple responded in a high-pitched whine.

“Are your shoes the problem? Trapping in all the nasty tension and stress?”

“I can help you with that. I can remove your shoes and let all the tension out. But if I do, you’ll need to fall even deeper into your trance for me. Do you understand?”

“Yessss,” squeaked the shaking Mark. “Uhhh-huuuh,” moaned Ellen.

Shirley reached for Mark’s oxfords first, trusting that he would fall deeply for her, and wanting to prolong Ellen’s induction. She leaned up close to Mark’s ear and whispered, “Do you know who I am?”

“Y-yes, misssstresss,” he croaked back, as he began breathing heavily through his mouth.

“Very good. In a moment I will release your shoes and you will fall deeply, deeply into your hypnotic trance for me. Letting go of all your stress, all your worries, all your thoughts. Mind blank. Open. Obedient. Do you understand?”

His mouth opened, but his dry tongue blocked any words. His nod would have to do.

“Very good.” She gripped his heels firmly and pulled both shoes off in a single motion. Mark squealed and his legs flew upwards before settling back down and twitching a few times as his body sank deeply into the pillows and his breathing became slow.

“And now you, my dear,” she said, more to herself.

Ellen was breathing as heavily as Mark had been a minute ago, with the occasional spasms in her feet and legs betraying the stress those muscles were feeling. Shirley could swear she spotted a bead of sweat on the woman’s brow. She chuckled to herself—maybe she could turn this into the hot new workout program. She crawled up alongside Ellen’s head and whispered into her ear.

“How do you feel?”

“Uggggghh, can’t relax.”

“I know, poor thing. Those nasty shoes are holding onto you, controlling your body. Trapping in all of the tension and pressure. It’s a shame. You’ve listened so well. You want to relax more, to let go. You want to be totally relaxed in a nice, deep sleep for me. You want to go to the field and relax, don’t you?”

Ellen could only sigh. Shirley noticed that she was placing her hands over her skirt, then pushing down towards her knees—presumably fighting the “tension and stress.” That was interesting. Maybe she was deeper than she thought.

“I can help you get there, but only if you put your faith in me. You can relax completely, but only if you let go. Listen to my words and know they are the only truth. I am here to help you, and you want that, don’t you? You want the release. You know how good it will feel. How much pleasure it will unleash to release the pleasure.”

“You’re teetering on the edge. Wanting to let go. Wanting to give in. Have you ever felt like this before, Ellen?”

“Mmmmmm. Sex.”

“Yes, it is like sex, and taking your shoes off will be just like a deep, deep orgasm. You need that now. You know how good it will feel. You can almost taste it, can’t you?”

Ellen took the cue and licked her lips, and Shirley decided it was time. She moved away from her thrall’s ear to position herself at her twitching feet, slipping both hands under the heels of those shiny, smooth slip-on loafers, finding it surprising how strong the girl’s feet and legs were and how hard it was to hang on.

“Feel it building. Feel it cumming. Ready and, LET GO!” She yanked both shoes off simultaneously, the force of her pull sending her arms skyward and almost making her lose her balance. Ellen screamed “Yeeeess!” and slammed both of her legs downward against the floor, arching her back and thrusting her crotch upward as the first wave hit her. Then her legs flew skyward and her back fell to the ground. And again. And again, the force of the thrusts gradually diminishing as the pretty young wife spent her energy.

Shirley gave her wide berth as she regained her composure.

“That’s it, sweetie. Let it all out. Breathe deeply. Feels so good to let go. To release and relax and slide deeper for me. Letting your tension go. Letting your stress go. Letting your thoughts go. Mind so light. So light and floaty. Floating away—bye-bye.”

“It’s hard to think, but that doesn’t matter, does it? It’s easy to relax and let go, and that’s all you want to do anyway. Very good. Slide deeper and deeper.”

Shirley allowed herself to lay back and catch her breath. They were both deeply in her spell, that was for sure, and part of her was dying to go out in the street and scream out a boast of her conquest. That wouldn’t work, of course. So she just walked over, still catching her breath from the physical exertions the induction took, and poured herself a glass of sweet, warm Port.

“To my sleeping beauties,” she toasted, then giggled as she plunged down to recline on one of the soft pillows in the corner of the room, watching the sleeping entranced couple as their chests moved in unison.

Finishing her nightcap, Shirley turned to part two of her plan. She first crawled over to Mark and leaned in close to his ear. “Relaxing so deeply, sleeping soundly. Totally happy and calm. I want you to sleep even deeper. Drifting down, down down, until you can no longer hear anything. You will stay in that beautiful, dark, sleepy place until you hear me say, ‘time to wake up, Mark.’ Do you understand?”

She took his grunt and deep exhale as acceptance, then turned to his lovely bride.

“Can you hear me, Ellen?”

“Y-yes.”

“Very good. You’ve done so well. Relaxing. Letting go of your stress. Accepting my power. It feels good, doesn’t it, Ellen?”

“Mmmmm. Good.”

“I want your brain to start thinking again. You’ll find it very easy to turn it back on, just a little. No stress. No effort, just simple thoughts. Easy to listen and respond. Telling me the complete truth. You would never, ever want to lie to me, after I brought you such pleasure, would you?”

“No.”

“Very good. Do you know my name, Ellen?” Shirley smiled as her face contorted a bit. “That’s right, look through all the recesses of your mind. Finding them empty. Nothing there. It feels nice to see so much room in your mind. Ready to fill it with new truth.”

“My name is mistress, Ellen. You remember now, don’t you? You realize you’ve always know that I am your mistress, don’t you?”

Ellen only nodded.

“You’ll need to learn to speak in response to my questions, Ellen, but that’s OK for now. You’ll get more practice. What is a mistress?”

“She controls.”

“Verrrrry goood, Ellen. Mistresses control. I’m your mistress and I control you. Do you know how I got that control? It’s because I’m strong. It’s because I’m a woman. People don’t realize how strong women are, Ellen, but we are. Did you hear me? We are strong. You are a woman, and you have power.”

Shirley was doing all she could not to hyperventilate—this was going so well, it could almost be scripted—but she shuddered to think about what kind of twisted mind could possibly write a script like this.

“Have you ever had control, Ellen?”

“Sometimes”

“Do you like it?”

“Mmmm. Yes.”

“Of course you do. It’s rewarding to control others—especially intelligent people like Mark. But while Mark is intelligent, he is also weak. He is a man. He needs control. He craves control. And I won’t always be there. You need to supply that control to him, Ellen. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress,” she said, more forcefully. Shirley noted Ellen’s chest rising more regularly, more purposefully, as her new calling sank in.

“Would you like me to teach you how to exercise control, Ellen?”

“Yes, please mistress.”

“It is a very simple process. There is a very simple way to tell who is in control. Think about your shoes. Think about how they make you feel. How you feel when you put on a pair of sexy, high-heeled pumps. You feel tall, powerful, in command, don’t you?”

“Mmmm. Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s how you can exercise your control. When Mark sees you in tall heels, he’ll be awed by your strength, your power. He’ll know to absorb everything you say as truth. You must insist that Mark begin to experience this more regularly at home—only at home—so that he can explore the nature of his own feelings of obedience and submission. This is your job—your calling as a woman.”

“Think about it. High heels to exercise control. Exercising your strength as a woman. Controlling him. Relax. Let these new ideas sink deeply into your mind.”

“Think about how sexy it will be to control Mark. To see him on his knees, needing to serve you. You’re doing so well, Ellen. I’m very proud of you. Learning the important lessons of being a woman. Letting them sink into the core of your being. Feeling how excited they make you. How aroused you’ll be. How nice it will be to have a boy who can serve you.”

Ellen’s head rolled around a bit as the force of these new thoughts penetrated her mind. Shirley rose and walked over to the corner and opened a box of new, stylish, round-toe pumps she had purchased after eliciting Ellen’s shoe size in a late-night chat session with Mark. They were black, with red stitching, and 3.5-inch heels. Shirley admired them, before kneeling to slip them onto Ellen’s feet.

“Feel your feet slip into a powerful pair of heels, Ellen. You’re becoming more powerful. A true woman. And you like it, don’t you? This is what you were meant to be.”

“Yes,” Ellen said forcefully as she wiggled her toes a bit in the new shoes.

“Very good, Ellen. I’d like you to wake up now. When you do, you won’t have any questions about where you are, how you got here, or who I am. You won’t remember anything that happened tonight until I took your shoes off. That was the minute your new identity was formed, and that’s all that’s important. You’ll know that I’m a friend who helped you realize your dreams of being a powerful woman, and that we need to talk about completing Mark’s training. You know you’re grateful to me for my gifts of power to you, and in return you’ll do anything I ask. But you’re not a slave—you’re a powerful woman who chooses to make me your friend. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“All right. When I count to five, you’ll awaken from this nice, deep sleep—remembering my instructions and advice, but nothing from before I took your shoes off. Ready to talk and help Mark. One. Two. Starting to become more aware. Three. Feeling the energy flowing back into your arms and legs. Four. Five. Wide awake.”

Ellen blinked a few times, adjusting her eyes to the light. She licked her parched lips and stretched her arms. Looking around, her eyes first alighted on her new pumps and she admired them, twirling her ankles around to see them from every angle. Then she pulled her knees up to her chest and her gaze drifted over to Shirley. Her kidnapper, programmer, and guru sat silently, barely breathing, waiting to see whether she’d have to defend herself from a crazed woman who saw herself as the victim of an abduction.

Ellen’s warm smile told her it was safe to exhale.

“Um, hi.” Ellen said, and giggled shyly.

“Hi. It’s good to see you,” Shirley replied.

“You, too,” Ellen replied, as her mind clearly struggled to make sense of her surroundings, and feelings towards this woman she’d never seen before, but who seemed like a familiar, trusted friend.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Coke? Double bourbon?” Shirley asked. Ellen laughed with her. “Thanks. Um, I guess a glass of wine would be nice.”

Shirley got up to fetch a glass, and Ellen resumed her visual tour of the room, finding her beloved quickly and smiling. He’s so adorable when he’s sleeping, she thought to herself, and felt a familiar, yet more intense rush of warmth gush through her heart and waist. Must be the wine, she thought, not really appreciating the fact that Shirley had not yet served her.

“He is cute like that, isn’t he?” Shirley said, returning with two glasses of a chilled, light white and breaking Ellen out of her daydream.

“I know. I watch him a lot like this,” Ellen said, feeling a bit self-conscious about sharing this intimate couple’s moment with someone else, although the feeling faded.

“I think he’ll be better company when he’s awake,” Shirley said, and leaned over to begin the process of bringing Mark up out of his trance, telling him that he’d be surprised to find himself at her home, but not alarmed, and comforted by the fact that Ellen was there, and aware of all that was going on. She also reminded him of his need to remain obedient to her, just in case he thought the trance would end that.

Mark was suitably surprised to find his lover and his mistress waiting for him, both smiling, when he opened his eyes, but as he’d been told, he felt only confusion, not anxiety.

“Hi. Um, have I missed a lot?”

“Oh, you could say that,” Ellen surprised them all—not least herself, by raising her voice first, forcefully. But her confidence flagged a little when she tried to identify Shirley by name, and stumbled. “M-mistress and I have just been talking about men: Their needs and wants and how we women need to meet them.”

“And particularly yours,” Shirley said.

“And what have you concluded?” Mark asked warily.

“Well, we talked about how our purpose is to exercise control in relationships, and how nicely that fits with your desire to cede it,” Ellen said, flexing her ankles a bit to call attention to her shiny new heels, a move that had the desired effect.

Mark choked on the lump that had been forming in his throat, and managed to force his eyes back to his wife’s face from her feet. “Really?” he scratched out. “What are you going to do, now that you know that?”

Ellen started to answer, but Shirley cut her off. “Well, first we’re going to get more comfortable. Ellen, come with me and we’ll find something for you to change into. Mark, you can strip here.”

Shirley rose and Ellen stood to follow her, tottering a little on the unfamiliarly high heels and the soft surface, but eventually getting the hang of it. Mark deliberately stripped nude after the women had left, folding his clothes and placing them in the corner near his shoes. While he was over there, he bent to get a closer look at his wife’s abandoned loafers, admiring the shiny, crocodile-textured patent leather, and even leaning in close for a sniff that sent his mind reeling for a moment, before regaining his composure and returning to his position near the center of the room. Ellen and Shirley returned, still wearing their heels and hose, but having disposed of their other clothes.

Ellen paired her silky white hose and black heels with a shiny, satiny pink camisole, while Shirley, ever the elegant mistress, wore a long black evening gown that just revealed the shiny, high-heeled black boots beneath, and long white gloves. Shirley motioned to Mark with a single finger. “Follow us” was the unspoken message.

Mark rose and followed the women through the door into another, darker room, fixated on their heels and the motion of their legs all the way. Shirley took her seat in a large comfortable chair in the middle of the room, facing Mark, and Ellen joined her, sitting on a nearby ottoman. Mark looked around for a moment, before realizing he as meant to sit on a large pillow that had been placed on the ground before the two powerful women.

“Very good—you can find your place without explicit instruction. You’re learning. You’re pleasing me.” Mark smiled and blushed at this praise, humbly and embarrassedly dropping his gaze to the ground in the presence of his mistress.

“Our shoes seem to cast a powerful hold on you, don’t they, Mark? You cannot look away,” Shirley said. “Holding you and your mind, eliminating all resistance, making you obedient.”

“Ellen, it’s your move. Do you choose to make Mark subject to you?”

Ellen didn’t even reply to her mistress. She turned directly to Mark.

“Worship them,” she said forcefully.

Ellen nodded approvingly as Mark bent to his task, then surprised her patron by choosing to make her first command a selfless one. “Mark, you must thank our mistress for unleashing our true feelings. Kneel before her and show your gratitude by serving her. Mark’s body barely moved from its prone position as his head shifted over to to Shirley’s shoes, gently tickling the tip of the shiny, pointy toe with gentle kisses.

Shirley shuddered as a surge of arousal passed through her, then turned to Ellen. “You have done well, offering me this gift, and now it’s time for your reward. Stop, Mark.” Shirley reached down and unzipped the tall boots. “I have two feet. One for each of you. Ellen, join your husband.”

Ellen dove from her chair and assumed the same prone position as her mate. Shirley threw her head back in ecstasy as her slaves’ tongues assaulted her tender, soft feet. She reached for her sopping wet crotch and quickly twirled her button with one hand, while driving the other deep inside her. Her orgasmic screams of pleasure only drove her slaves wilder as she rode climax after climax, enjoying the licks, kisses and gentle bites on her toes and soles.

Finally, she was sated and commanded her slaves to rest and lie on their backs, making their own arousals evident.

“You have both done well,” she said, and Mark and Ellen sighed with satisfaction. You may now cement your bond to one another—Ellen, mount Mark and use his hardness to satisfy yourself. Mark, you will pleasure Ellen and only if and when she is satisfied, you will be allowed to experience the release you desire so deeply.”

Shirley watched, gently massaging her breasts and her clit as Ellen quickly lost all control, riding up and down on Mark’s cock with abandon as he thrust his hips upward to met her motions and massaged her body in an attempt to win favor. After 20 minutes, Ellen granted him permission, and they both screamed out at once before collapsing into an exhausted pile.

Shirley recognized the time to send them back to their own lives, convincing them to remain in their trance-state as they dressed. She drove the couple back to the club’s parking lot, suggesting that they’d wake up with first light, which by now was only an hour away, realizing that they had maturely decided to sleep off the effects of their cocktails before heading back to their hotel. They would not remember the specific events of the evening, only the awakenings that the “stage hypnotist” had brought to the surface for them, and their desire to share their new fun with the Internet world.

Shirley locked the doors of the rental and retrieved her own sedan and drove home, looking forward to her next trip online more than ever.