The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I blinked and shook my head, always slow to wake up. I lifted a hand to rub at my bleary eyes, and realised that I wasn’t in my own bed; no egyptian cotton sheets restricting my movement. In fact, I wasn’t lying down at all, and my eyes were already open.

Weird.

I was sitting in front of my computer, and the light streaming in through the curtains told me it was mid-morning. I looked at the computer’s clock, and then noticed what was on the screen. An email from Master, at last! She’d been hypnotising me for months now, putting me through the delicious torture of orgasm denial, refusing me permission to sleep with my wonderful new girlfriend, Clara, and even confusing me about Her gender, granting me both male and female hallucinations of my Master. But this was probably the first time She’d actually sent an email to let me know what Her plans were. Excited, I skimmed through the first paragraph.

Hi wmblake7t5!

Metamorpheus here. As much as I like communicating directly with your subconscious (and I know you love it too), I think it’s time for us to have a little talk. So, you MAY read this message. I’ve got an email here from your fianceé, and I’m sure that’s something you could have told me about. I’ve set up an online chat session for us at 7 tonight. I know you’re not too technical, so just click the link at the bottom here when you get home; your computer is already set up with the right apps.

I blinked, read it through again, but was no less surprised. Clara had emailed Master? Well, she had said she wanted to help me get free of Her hypnotic command, but I wouldn’t have expected such a direct approach. Still, maybe it would be the best way to go about it ... Clara had escaped from an over-controlling master of her own a few years ago, so she probably had a good idea how to go about it.

Before I closed the message, though, I caught sight of the email signature, and wondered how I could ever have been so dumb. “Metamorpheus ~ Dominant and Theraputing Hypnosis Services” the first line declared. It didn’t say “female” or “Mistress” anywhere, but that’s what I had assumed until She ... He ... was completely in control of me. And the tagline underneath, “Changing the world, one asshole at a time” ... well, how did I miss such a blatant clue that I was chatting with a faggot?

I dragged myself away from the computer and took a cold shower; it didn’t help much, my cock was still standing to attention like a drill sergeant’s baton. But I could surely put up with that for a few hours. The clock said it was after 10, so I was already late for work, but there was nothing new there. I put on some loose fitting pants, that wouldn’t distract me too much as my manhood rubbed against the smooth fabric, and a casual check shirt. Then off to work, which was exactly as much hell as usual. Another woman came in to complain our product had damaged something, but she didn’t want to chat while I waited for the computer to load her file. Weird to think, only a few months ago, Clara was an unknown customer with a similar problem; this one had a bigger rack and all the right curves, but I found I couldn’t be any less interested, so I just typed in the name, copied the numbers from one form to another, and did my job.

The evening, though, that was different. I stayed late an hour at work, hoping to avoid getting my pay docked for being tardy this morning. So it was already getting close to 7 by the time I pulled a frozen pizza out of the oven and sat down at my desk. The chat program worked as easily as Master had said; one click and I was connected.

caramelheart:

Hi! Is that you Master?

wmblake:

Yeah Clara?

caramelheart:

Yep <3 I guess you just picked the name it generates from your real name?

wmblake:

Yeah. Had it as my email address for long enough.

wmblake:

That’s a cute one. Caramel like the toffee, so your my sweetie heart

caramelheart:

Aww you know how to charm a girl <3 I used it for ages

wmblake:

Thanks for emailling Master for me. I tried by I think He didn’t believe me.

caramelheart:

No worries :) I got to look after you, you know.

caramelheart:

When you said you had a hypnotist I would of thought it was a woman. Hehe. I never realised you were bi, so when you said Morpheus I was really surprised. Hope that doesn’t upset you.

Metamorpheus:

Well, hello children :) Good to see you managed to get here OK

wmblake:

IM NOT GAY

Metamorpheus:

Of course not. You just dream about sucking My cock every night

wmblake:

Hi Master. Sorry didn’t mean to say that to you

caramelheart:

Anyway, get to the point “Master”. Are you going to let him go or not?

Metamorpheus:

Oh, she’s feisty, isn’t she?

caramelheart:

Is that an answer?

Metamorpheus:

Listen, sweetheart, your boyfriend came to me because he wanted to feel controlled and helpless. Isn’t that right, Blake?

wmblake:

Well kinda

Metamorpheus:

So I just want to let my ideas play out. I’m not going to let so much effort go to waste just cos he wants a fling.

wmblake:

Its not just a fling Master

caramelheart:

It’s more than\\Yeah we’re engaged you know

Metamorpheus:

Really? I wouldn’t have thought he’d be ready for such a commitment so quickly

caramelheart:

I know its sudden, we’ve only been together a few months and I know we’d both got a few drinks before he said it, but I can’t imagine ever not wanting to be with him and I think that’s what matters really

I sat back from the computer, not sure what to think about the whole marriage thing. I mean, words in the heat of the moment and all that, I hadn’t really thought about that kind of thing. But then, could I imagine leaving her, being single again? No. And to be honest, I was quite taken aback to find people arguing over me. And not just anyone, either, but a witty, sexy, caring girl who could have got any guy she wanted, and a talented hypnotist with the power to control any number of other people.

I realised the conversation had heated up again while I was sitting there, gaping like an idiot. Seemed like they could both type faster than me, almost faster than I could read. So I skimmed to the end, where they seemed to be negotiating some kind of deal.

caramelheart:

as many as you want but not naked

Metamorpheus:

Of course! I am a Master of taste and discretion, after all.

wmblake:

wait what?

Metamorpheus:

Not paying attention, little manwhore? Your fiancee has agreed to negotiate for your release, and I’m happy to trade one slave for another

caramelheart:

Not a real slave, Master

caramelheart:

He wants to put me in a story and I’ll send a couple of pics for the description. Is that okay?

wmblake:

Oh, I guess

Metamorpheus:

I find my stories are always better received when I have a real person to base the protagonist on. You may recall that’s one of my motivations in experimenting with you.

wmblake:

Thank you, Master. Dose that mean I’m straight again now?

Metamorpheus:

Oh, not quite. I need to know your sweetheart will deliver on her promises.

caramelheart:

You can trust me.

caramelheart:

You’ll have your questionaire and your pics tomorrow night.

Metamorpheus:

Excellent. Then Mr Blake should be free to do as he wishes by the end of the week.

caramelheart:

<3 That was easy enough. See you tonite Master?

wmblake:

Yeah, I got overtime tho. Want to meet me at work?

caramelheart:

Sure. Love you <3

I sat back and smiled. I got to admit, there was part of me that would miss being helpless, shamed, controlled. But it was a great relief to be out of that, and know that now there was nothing that could come between me and Clara. If we broke up now, it would be because I did something stupid, because I chose to.

So, I was feeling pretty good when I finally got to work. I didn’t feel down when the boss chewed me out for being late. It was like nothing could get to me today, even an afternoon of customer complaints. Actually, I did surprisingly well at that. A guy’s yelling at me because he wants us to pay for some damages, screaming his heart out, and I just didn’t care. After about fifteen minutes of repeating “Umm, yeah, you need to fill in the RC7 form,and you can get a refund,” the asshole actually got bored before I did and started to back down. By the time it got to 7 in the evening, I’d got a whole bunch of unreasonable people to see reason, just by being immune to their abuse. It’s a technique I’d never even considered before, but in my complacent, untouchable mood, it just seemed to work.

By the time it had rolled around to 7, I’d already earned enough respect from my bosses to make up for arriving late. So I figured I could clock off at 7:30, see if Clara was around yet. In the past she’d arrived earlier than I did when meeting me from work; but I wondered just how long she’d been willing to wait. This time, maybe I could be waiting for her. The thought brought a smile to my face; it would be nice if I could impress her for a change. I asked and they said I could leave whenever, so I went up to the counter and kept an eye on the window, waiting for her to show.

When I saw her outside she was walking. I guess she got the bus from home, so she must have set off pretty early. I guess she put a lot of importance on arriving early, not making me wait; she must really care a lot what I thought. That was a sobering thought if she had such high expectations, I’d have a lot of work not to disappoint her.

We went out for dinner, always a relief after a long day at work. I guess that was another sign I’d changed over the last few months; in the past, eating out was an expense towards getting a girl to put out but now, spending money on a decent meal made the time spent together seem more special and it was just so much fun to be there. I mean, anywhere we went was fun even just spending time at home watching a DVD. But I felt better doing different things trying to keep it fresh. Things I’d never really thought about before, just seemed like second nature.

When we got back to her place, I finally got up the confidence to talk about the online chat that morning. I’d kept in the questions while we chatted over dinner, but we had plenty of other things to talk about, so it hadn’t interrupted the meal. Now, I figured I could say what was on my mind. I guess a bottle of decent wine hadn’t hurt, either. “I can’t thank you enough for talking to Master. I feel like I should be doing everything I can to help you, and yet you’re the one making sacrifices for me.”

“Oh, some sacrifice,” she giggled, and blushed like a schoolgirl, “A couple of personality questions and some tasteful reference photos. And for such a price, I get sole posession of a wonderful husband, and I get to be immortalised in fiction. It’s all a girl—“

“Wait,” I interrupted, and immediately wished I’d waited, “A husband? I mean, I know we were pretty mashed after Stan’s show, but did I really ..?”

The question hung in the air. There was just a trace of sadness in Clara’s eyes, but she tried not to let it show. Eventually, she looked down at her hands, and spoke softly. “Well, not really. But you said ‘wedding night’, and I just hoped you meant ...”

“Look at me, Clara,” I said as I put one finger on her chin, pulled her face up to meet my gaze. Half a tear was enough to break my heart, and the words came from somewhere deep inside me. “This is a very serious decision, and I’m not going into marriage based on some half-assed drunk comment. When I marry you, it’s going to be after a real proposal, in some fancy restaurant with a proper ring that costs a month’s wages, and flowers everywhere, and a gypsy violinist playing our song, and fireworks, and ... and asking your dad first, and everything you could ever hope for. You only get to propose once, right? So I want to do it proper—” and the rest was cut off as she leapt forward to kiss me, carrying me to the ground under her weight.