The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I saw a barren plain with a few windswept tufts of weeds bending in sandblown near-darkness against rocks half hidden by ages of weathering and erosion. The enormous sky was slowly paling with a faint light that I turned to face. To my left something was approaching, raising a trail of dust: a dark rider on a black horse. I knew that it was a race. The dark rider, galloping to meet me before the sun appeared above the horizon. There was nothing I could do, I couldn’t outrun it, there was no place to hide, I could only hope that it was too slow and the sun would rise before the rider reached me. Something horrible was going to happen if it got to me first. It looked like the rider was going to win.

“Greg, wake up.” Cynthia had her hand on my shoulder. “You seemed to be having a bad dream.”

The barren plain faded. I was left with a sense of real dread and forboding. I told my dream to Cynthia and asked her what it meant.

“Oh, great. Now you want me to interpret your dreams. I swear, it never fails. People meet a podiatrist at a party and next thing you know they’re describing their foot problems, asking for free advice. They meet a psychologist, they want their dreams interpreted. Okay, I’ll tell you what your dream means.”

She took my hands in hers and looked at me carefully, saying with a serious tone, “According to the most recent theory it means you’ve been reading too much Tolkien.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “That’s better,” she said. “Now get up. You’ve got classes today. Let’s see what we can do about breakfast.”

Most of the day was uneventful. Classes went as usual. Afterward I decided to get some stuff from my dorm room to take to Cynthia’s for the weekend. I was surprised to find all of Scott’s things in the room. Even his new video camera was still up on the shelf. No sign of Scott, though. I put what I needed into my backpack and walked to Cynthia’s place. It wasn’t until I arrived that I realized I didn’t know how I was going to get into her apartment if she wasn’t there. I knocked but there was no answer. Resigning myself to waiting outside, I absently toyed with a pebble I had picked up somewhere. It was a strange pebble, very flat with sharp ridges. When did I get this, anyway? I looked at it.

It was a key.

Greg could almost hear Cynthia’s voice saying, “You’ll find it when you need it.” It fit the lock perfectly and he went in. He put his backpack down and decided to fasten the key on his keychain. He got his keychain out, but then he couldn’t find Cynthia’s key. It wasn’t in his hand, it wasn’t in the door. It had simply disappeared. When Greg was about to panic he could hear Cynthia saying, almost as if she were next to him, “When you don’t need it, it will hide itself on you, invisibly. Then you will forget.”

I found myself inside Cynthia’s apartment. The door must have been unlocked. I didn’t even recall opening it, I guess I was thinking about something else.

After finishing some homework problems I decided to take a break and read some more about hypnosis. Then the phone rang. I wasn’t sure if I should answer but I noticed Cynthia had caller ID and the call was from one of Cynthia’s own numbers.

“Greg, thank goodness you’re there. Something funny is going on. Whatever you do, don’t go back to your dorm room.”

“I was there just an hour ago.”

“You were? Okay Greg, listen carefully.”

She said something I didn’t quite catch. Then I felt I had to say something.

“I got some of my books and clothes. Nobody else was in the room. I went straight to your place. I’m here alone.”

Now why had I said all that? “Cynthia, what just happened? What did you do to me?”

“I know you are probably confused right now. I needed to know if anything was wrong and I had to be sure you were telling the truth. I used a trigger that compels you to be truthful with me. You won’t remember it or the question consciously. Believe me, I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t think it was important.”

“What other triggers have you planted?” For some reason I found myself getting annoyed.

“Greg, not many. Mostly just the ones I usually give my boyfriends. Look, we can talk about this later. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. Please let me explain when I get there. The important thing is that you need to wait for me. Promise me you won’t go anywhere.” She sounded concerned.

“Okay. I’ll stay here.”

“Thank you, Greg. I won’t be long.”

When Cynthia arrived she came over to the sofa where I was sitting and sat next to me. “Greg, can you tell me the name of the website you looked at yesterday?”

“You mean Mistress Quintessence?”

“Yes,” Cynthia said with relief. “I had to be certain that she hadn’t gotten to you again. Something happened yesterday when Scott’s father came to pick him up. They left without him. I was talking to your dorm counsellor today. All he knows is that Scott’s father arrived, was in your room for about an hour, and then left in a hurry. Nobody seems to know anything else. I suspect Mistress Quintessence is involved. I need your help, Greg. I want to know what is going on.”

“What can I do? Can’t you just go to the Dean, or the faculty?”

“We don’t have enough evidence yet. Once we do, that might make sense. But remember this. We don’t know who this Mistress Quintessence is. Maybe she is one of the faculty.”

I hadn’t considered that. Then I had an unpleasant thought. “How do I know that you aren’t Mistress Quintessence?”

Cynthia looked surprised as though I had slapped her and then she cast her eyes down. “I guess I deserve that.” Quiet for a moment, she looked at me again. “The last thing I want to do is to abuse your trust. I know I took advantage of you yesterday, and I sincerely apologize for that. Sometimes people do stupid things, heaven knows I’ve done my share already. But I’m not Mistress Quintessence.”

Then she placed her hand on my shoulder and said, “Greg. Postmodern Victorianism.”

When she said that I felt a shift in my mind. Everything that had happened in the last two days became clear. I remembered what she said to me on the phone earlier. I remembered unlocking Cynthia’s apartment door and I suddenly knew that her key was in my shirt pocket. I remembered her putting me into a trance earlier that morning and giving me several suggestions and triggers, including the one she had just used. Cynthia looked just a bit older than she had a minute ago. She was still attractive, but seemed a little sad at the moment. I understood what she had done. There were no more triggers, no more suggestions.

She had set me free. I felt a tide of relief.

“Thank you,” I said to Cynthia. I thought about all that she had done for me. Even if I had been controlled, the sex was hot. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She responded by hugging me. We were there on the couch holding each other for a while.

“I love you,” I whispered to her.

“Oh, Greg,” she said, leaning back and wiping one eye with the back of her hand. “You’re very sweet. But you don’t love me.” I started to protest but she stopped me. “Just listen for a moment. You met me only yesterday. I helped you with a problem. Then, you happened to push some of my buttons, to use a technical term. I’ll admit I took advantage of your condition. We became intimate very quickly. We had a lot of fun, didn’t we? But that isn’t love. What you are feeling is gratitude mixed with lust.”

I was confused. I felt hurt, like she was criticizing me. “I’m sorry,” I said, “what did I do wrong?”

Cynthia took a deep breath and exhaled. She then said earnestly, “Nothing. You’ve been wonderful. I like you a lot. You just need a little more experience.”

I sat silently for a while, thinking. I decided to accept what she said for the moment. Her explanation of my feelings was beginning to make sense to me. I began to realize that I had a lot to learn about myself. But first I wanted to help Scott, if he was in trouble. I glanced over at Cynthia again. “So what do we do now?”

She raised one eyebrow. “What would you like to do?”

I tried not to smile. “We did that last night.”

“Hmm. Whenever you want to explore that lust and gratitude further, let me know.”

“Okay.” My discomfort had evaporated. “I really want to find out what’s going on with Scott.”

She nodded. “Good. I have a plan. But I’m going to need you to let me hypnotize you again. Would you be willing to let me do that?”

“What for?” I wasn’t eager to surrender myself again so soon.

“Several reasons. I want you to go back to the dorm to find out what’s going on. Scott knows and trusts you, and you can ask him questions without sounding like it’s an interrogation. But you may be exposed to Mistress Quintessence again. I know you would try to resist her, but you might not be able to without my help. I want to safeguard you against that. Second, you may need to appear to be in her control. Perhaps you could fake that without hypnosis but it will be a lot easier if I give you some post-hypnotic suggestions. Third, you asked me to teach you how to hypnotize people. I think it would be a good idea for you to practice on someone. You might need to use it. I know some people who might be interested in participating. And if you let me hypnotize you now I can help you learn more quickly. Greg, I promise that when all this is over I will wipe out all the suggestions I give you.”

She had convinced me. “I’ll do it. When do we start?”

“Soon as we can. I need to make some phone calls. And you should call Scott. Tell him you had to go out of town unexpectedly and not to worry, you’ll see him soon. Avoid talking about Mistress Quintessence or anything else. Keep it short, make some excuse. Tell him your uncle died. Do that now, I’m going to prepare a few things.”

I called Scott and got the answering machine. When I started to leave a message, Scott picked up.

“Greg! Where’ve you been? Somebody said you went a little crazy or something. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Look, my uncle passed away, and I was upset, that’s all. I have to go to his funeral. I’ll be gone for a couple of days. Don’t worry about me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got to go. See you later.” I hung up. That had seemed to go well.

Cynthia was placing a candle on the coffee table. “Have a seat on the sofa. I’m going to make my calls now.” I relaxed while Cynthia was busy. When she came back she told me that a couple of friends had agreed to let me practice hypnotizing them tomorrow.

“I’ve known Edward for a while. I met Abby more recently. I’ve hypnotized both of them before and they are excellent subjects. I think you’ll like them. Oh, and I talked to Kathy too. She asked about you. I told her you were fine, and that if anyone asks her, you’re at your uncle’s funeral.”

She sat down next to me. “Tonight I want to try some suggestions designed to keep you safe when you go back to the dorm. I’ll be giving you several post-hypnotic suggestions and some triggers of the sort you had before. We’ll test them and in a day or two I’ll change or reinforce them if necessary. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“Okay. Let’s begin.” She lit the candle.

“Sit comfortably, hands in your lap, and just look at the flame for a while. Notice how it flickers sometimes. Feel how your breathing is regular and calming. Look at how the heat of the flame melts the candle wax. Imagine the liquid wax moving up the wick, where it burns to make the flame. See where the top of the wick bends to the outside of the flame, burning itself as well. Such a simple thing, yet so much is happening if you look closely. Still, not nearly as complex as the human brain. Your mind allows you to imagine everything happening to the candle and more. Let yourself relax now, breathing easily...”

Afterwards, we discussed the situation. She told me that in her opinion Mistress Quintessence was not necessarily a bad person. People have to do all sorts of things for money, and she may fill a need. The problem was that directly or indirectly, purposely or otherwise, Mistress Quintessence and others like her could be creating a compulsion in a client to pay for little more than the “privilege” of receiving that compulsion. While Cynthia didn’t think that should be illegal, she felt it was certainly unethical. Worse, in her opinion, was the way that some purposely degraded their clients. She told me that for now, I must not suggest to a person in trance that they are a slut, slave, toy, or anything else of a subhuman or derogatory nature.

“As you get more experienced, you may encounter situations where such temporary suggestions might be expected, appropriate and welcome. Still, you must be careful. You must use proper safeguards and know your subject very well before even considering giving them such a suggestion. Personally, I find it distasteful at best. At worst, there is the possibility of causing real pain, even damage. Greg, when you were in grade school, was there a playground bully?”

“Yes, there was. I learned to avoid him and didn’t get beat up too often.”

“A bully is someone with a strong need to control others, but with little or no empathy. They feel no regret after causing someone pain, maybe they don’t even recognize that pain. Now, of course it is nearly impossible to live without causing others pain sometimes. I’m not talking about that. But bullies seem to enjoy it. Usually it’s the power they really enjoy, and they simply don’t care how they get it or use it.

“The world contains plenty of those people, Greg. Some of them are presidents and CEOs. Some are professors, some are in the military and some are on the police force. You will probably meet some of them, and maybe, heaven help you, work for one of them. The more intellectual ones may actually study hypnosis. But not all hypnotists are bullies. In fact, having empathy makes you a better hypnotist. You can put yourself in your subject’s place, feel what they are feeling. If you can do that, it’s much easier to lead them where you want them to go. You will know if they start to have trouble, and you can lead them out. I think that you, Greg, can do that. Kathy thinks you can, too. I asked her about you. I have a lot of respect for Kathy and she thinks highly of you. I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.”

Maybe it was because I had been in trance so recently, but I felt like she wasn’t talking about me exactly, but rather about someone else we both knew named Greg. “Thank you,” I said, because I knew Greg, that is, I, wanted to say that. “Cynthia, I feel strange.”

“What is it, Greg. Tell me what you are experiencing.”

“It’s like I’m two people or something. It’s weird.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’m going to perform a little test now. ‘Mistress Quintessence.’”

The feeling got stronger, and I knew that Greg, that is, the other Greg, wanted to log into Mistress Quintessence’s website and schedule a session with her. I also knew I didn’t have to do that if I didn’t want to. I explained that to Cynthia.

“Good. I wasn’t sure exactly how you’d deal with that. You will be aware of the suggestions and triggers that she wanted you to have, you’ll know what you need to do to make it appear as though she still influences you. But you are free to ignore it. Apparently your mind is doing that by splitting off a part of itself. I hope you can handle this, Greg.”

That explained it. I silently told the other Greg that he didn’t need to log on to the website. The feeling of being split lessened again.

“I think I can handle it.”

She smiled. “Good boy.”

I knew the other Greg wanted to close his eyes and relax as I felt just a hint of a sensation between my legs. “That’s so funny,” I said with a laugh.

“I want you to experience this now so it isn’t a surprise if it happens later. ‘It’s wonderful to talk to you again.’”

The other Greg started to go into a trance as Cynthia recited the trigger phrase. I woke him up. “Okay.” It was getting easier to deal with the sensation.

“One factor in our favor is that she probably has no idea what a good subject you are. She may not expect you to respond as strongly as you did. You don’t necessarily have to do precisely what she has told you to do.” She glanced at the clock. “Alright, that’s enough for now. You’ve got the idea. Let’s go eat.”

After dinner we were both tired. It had been a full day. Before bedtime Cynthia said we needed to talk again. She paused for a moment. “I violated my own rules yesterday with you. It was my fault. I lost my objectivity. You hadn’t asked for what I did. Are we still friends?”

“Yes,” I told her, and I meant it. I hadn’t especially liked being controlled, but the experience allowed me to understand the seductive power of the feeling.

I think we both fell asleep almost instantly when we went to bed.