The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I’m a caring and nurturing Domme. Pain and humiliation don’t do anything for me. I love using my wits and will to control my submissives, using their own strength to bring them into subjection to me. Allison is my name, and Michael is my number-one boy.

I met Michael when he came to me as a client in my counseling practice. I do motivational consulting for business, among other forms of counseling, and hypnosis is one of my major tools. My clients seem to like the results; one of them gave me a reference lately saying, “Allison helps you, and it doesn’t hurt!” How it makes me feel to guide a hard-charging strong man into a place where he is deeply under my power.....well, that usually stays my little secret.

Michael is a project manager for a construction company. He needed a couple of small good habits and attitude changes I was able to help him with, but the main problem his boss was worried about was a temporary slump; he was depressed over being dumped by a girlfriend. I helped him realize how much better it would feel to be in a relationship with somebody who appreciated what he had to offer, and how very much that was. I increased his confidence that it would happen soon. He didn’t have to worry about how any particular woman reacted to him, he could just be his charming self. I was intensely motivated to get this guy fixed and out of my office, because it’s my policy not to date clients, and I wanted to go out with him!

I explored Michael’s sexual desires and aversions to make sure he was chasing women he could be happy with when one of them caught him. He revealed an intriguing quirk, one he’d never told anybody about. Michael was strangely excited by women’s high heels, especially red ones. When he had fantasies about women, that’s what they always wore.

Shortly after our therapy sessions ended, Michael became my boyfriend. (Do I hear somebody asking if I planted any posthypnotic suggestions to make sure he wanted that? Would I do a thing like that? Ummm....How did you guess?) Sure enough, I noticed that he got very excited when I wore my high heels, and bought a red pair just for him. I teased him with this knowledge, rewarding him when he responded, and built up his thing for red heels into a major fetish. He got an erection whenever he saw me in them, especially when I didn’t have on anything else! Soon I had trained him to react the same way when I just mentioned red heels to him. He became so sweetly docile and obedient in this state of mind, and I loved him so much that way, that I decided to use this endearing silly fetish as the first theme of a dominant/submissive relationship.

Michael already loved to sniff my high heels, and to clean and polish them, either the regular way or with his tongue. Now, every time he does this, I gain more power over him. Shortly after I began using his fetish when I hypnotized him, he found that he had to buy a pair of red high heels of his own and wear them around the house. The sight and smell and feeling of those shoes are a constant unconscious influence on him, teaching him to trust me, believe what I tell him, and do whatever I command. Girl Power! When he and I are alone together, sometimes I have him wear just his heels, so I can enjoy the way he looks. Michael is such a hunk, and besides, I love to work this role reversal on men! They have such strong and specific ideas about how they want a woman to dress—or undress—for them. It’s good for a man to have to act out his own fantasies in the first person kinky.....

Every day, I make Michael do some chore or errand for me, just because I tell him to. He was always eager to make love with me, but now he knows that he is my sex toy whenever and however I want him. I call his subspace “coming to heel,” and he likes being my good little doggie! I can make him get an erection or lose one, on command. I like to prove to him how deeply under my power he is now. Once, when he was going to spend all afternoon watching football on television, I made him watch an entire women’s fashion show, just to count the women wearing red heels.

After a while, as my dominance over Michael grew secure and comfortable for both of us, I started showing him off in front of my trusted girlfriends, singly and in small groups. I even lent him to a few of them for an hour or a day of errand slavery. I didn’t just want to brag about the wonderful man I own; I wanted to inspire any of my girlfriends who incline that way to take control of their men, too.

One day Michael’s ex Wendy came over for a party. She was a bright but nasty lawyer, and I had always hated her, but she and Michael are still friendly. I demonstrated my control over him in several not-too-scandalous ways, making him act as a servant to me and sit on the floor at my feet. I explained to a curious friend who hadn’t seen this side of our relationship that I hypnotize him frequently, and we both enjoy this very much.

Wendy was fascinated by this idea. I wondered uneasily if she was going to ask to borrow him; I’m pretty open-minded, but that from her would have been too much. Instead she asked me to hypnotize her! It turned out that her Ms. Ball-Crusher public persona had given her a frustrated craving for powerlessness. In fact, part of the reason she and Michael broke up was that she felt he wasn’t masterful enough!

I graciously obliged, putting her under lightly then and there. I suggested that being in a trance is deeply relaxing and refreshing, and that she would come to me regularly for a fascinating course in hypnosis, enjoying being my subject and giving up more and more control to me. She turned out to be an excellent hypnotic subject, and she enjoyed these sessions as much as I did. She loved obeying posthypnotic suggestions, even when I was only making her do housework or run errands. She also loved having me mold her attitudes and opinions, and I loved doing that to her, too. As I always say, “Where the mind goes, the body will follow!”

My best adviser for Wendy’s mental patterns and emotional responses became Wendy herself. Whenever I was stuck for ideas on how to manipulate her, I would put her under, then make her believe it was several months in the future and she was now willingly doing whatever she had balked at. Then I had her explain to me how I did that to her. She told me what suggestions I gave her, what fantasies or dreams I made her have, what real-life experiences I arranged for her, to dissolve her resistance and make obeying this command feel like the most natural thing in the world. As she gave me this history of the future, and told me exactly how to gain more control of her, she would often mention things I could have done better and suggest ways to do it more cleverly! For instance, at her suggestion, I convinced her that she was a happy and carefree girl in trance, and I was an adult mentor she trusted completely. She saw me as sitting in an easy chair while she knelt at my feet, looking up to me; she said this helped her to feel submissive. She was as clear and incisive as she would be at work, but Hypnotized Wendy was my lawyer now, and the waking Wendy I used to despise was the opposing counsel she loved to bamboozle for me! This was the most glorious experience of mind control domination I ever had in my life, and I was taking notes all through it thinking of things I could do with Michael, too.....

I soon learned where Wendy had gotten the nasty streak she used to take a hostile witness apart like a buzzsaw. She had been horribly abused as a child, emotionally and sexually. Enough of this came out at the time to break up her family, but young Wendy had already learned that emotions are weapons and that the best defense was a strong attack. She got enough approval as a bright and hardworking teacher’s pet to survive, but part of her was frozen inside. I soon learned to start off her trance sessions by regressing her to the age of twelve, before the worst of the damage.

I wondered whether it was worth messing with a functional adjustment, but Wendy herself had no doubts. “That part of me is still a scared little girl,” she said. “It hurts all the time. That’s what gives me the anger I use professionally, but I can’t turn it off. I’ve got to grow her up and reintegrate myself. If that ruins me as a lawyer, OK, but I don’t think it will. And don’t worry about my mental stability. I might as well be crazy as the way I am now.....”

When she was awake, Wendy had developed a profound amnesia for what I’d been doing with her in trance, so she wouldn’t be bothered by any rough stuff we had to work through. I was really starting to like the young Wendy I met when she was under, though, so I had her dissociate from the traumatic memories before leading her back to them. I put her in her grown-up body, sitting beside me in the balcony of a movie theater, watching young Wendy down below, who was watching her bad memories on the movie screen. The first time we went to one of the moments of maximum terror, watching the back of her mother’s asshole boyfriend as he left Wendy’s bedroom, enough of the frozen affect leaked through that she gasped and started to cry, clutching my hand hard enough to leave bruises.

“Help her!” I told her. “Let little Wendy know that you know she survived all this, because you are from her future.” She did, and the terror began to ease. I taught her to control the experiences on the screen in whatever ways little Wendy liked. She could make the picture big or small, clear or blurry, in color or black and white, moving fast or slow or in rewind. They could be silent, or with any sound track she liked. There was a terrible Sixties song Wendy had always hated, “Duke of Earl;” now that became her abuser’s theme music. She started to sit down in the body of the theater, holding hands with her younger self, and they began to giggle together every time he appeared.

As these experiences became tolerable to think about, Wendy realized something she had always repressed. Awful as the circumstances were, she had often enjoyed the sex. “Don’t let the waking me know that!” she blurted. “The way she is now, she’s not tough enough to take it.” I solemnly promised not to tell. The ice cube in the middle of adult Wendy was her repressed sexuality; she had frozen herself as a punishment for that sneaky guilty pleasure. Her adult sex life had been largely frigid and manipulative. Only occasionally had she found a man who was dominant enough that she could release her pleasure-starved and affectionate nature in submission to him. Then she couldn’t help herself; she came...and came...and came...because he was making her come. And she hated herself in the morning.....She had hoped that Michael might be one of these magic masters, and when she decided he wasn’t, her rejection had left icicles dangling from his cock, poor boy.

She agreed that she needed to release her sexuality and let it grow up. As a symbol of this gradual process, I picked her breasts. Like many women with a similar history, Wendy was different sizes above and below the waist. She had full womanly hips and thighs, but her breasts were those of a twelve-year-old, much smaller than her mother or either grandma had had. I began suggesting that now that she had taken the brakes off, her breasts would grow naturally, and as they did, her erotic feelings and capacities would grow with them. I had never tried this before, but she accepted the idea willingly. I was almost envious of the result; over the next several months, Wendy became startlingly voluptuous. Part of this was genuine physical change, and part of this was her changing self-image and behavior. She used to walk like a boy; now she undulated. Admiring glances she used to sniff at now got a warm smile; the new Wendy liked to be looked at.

When I manipulate people, I find it’s much more efficient and more fun not to struggle with them, but to use their own habits and unconscious assumptions to make them do as I want and like it. With Wendy, as with Michael, I could now reprogram this mental firmware. As long as I was patient and tricky, I could make her be the kind of person who would naturally do whatever I wanted done. In short, I had her right where I wanted her.....and Wendy was entirely in favor of that. She asked me to control her new sexuality. “You have experience being a sexy woman,” she said. “I don’t, and I’m a little scared of the strength of these new impulses I’m getting. I trust you, Allison; will you choose what is best for me and command me to do it?” I promised I would.

Michael was pleasantly baffled by the changes in Wendy. I loved the way his eyes bugged out the first time he saw her wearing the red high heels I had commanded her to get and wear as a sign and reminder of her growing submission to me. He couldn’t help getting a woodie at that thrilling sight! When I asked him, “Do you see something strangely exciting about the new Wendy, dear?” he blushed furiously—and nodded.

More and more often, I made Wendy accept commands from me through him, and then simply obey his own commands. I introduced her to the literature of BDSM, giving her hours of assigned reading in a receptive light trance. She realized that lifestyle submission corresponded to her deepest desires, and she found the role of slave girl completely satisfying. She began to call me “Mistress” and Michael “Sir.” As her submission deepened, it began to be obvious that Wendy was no longer simply playing a role; this was who she was now. The best part was that she, Michael, and I all agreed that she was becoming a much nicer person!

I began allowing Wendy to serve me and Michael around the house regularly. I had her work wearing a kinky French maid costume or completely nude, and she calmly accepted this. I realized that she could not be embarrassed by doing anything I told her to do, and that her limits and inhibitions were mine to change as I wanted. This opened up a whole world of possibilities, and I was getting wet just thinking about them!

On Michael’s birthday, Wendy helped serve at his party. After we cleaned up, when it was just the three of us, Wendy came into the living room nude, bringing me the collar I had bought her, and knelt at my feet. She looked up to me and asked, “Mistress, may I make my avowals now?”

“Girl,” I told her, “you not only may, you must!”

“Mistress, you have shown me the most peaceful and satisfying way of life I’ve ever known. You are my wisewoman, who gave me what I needed when I didn’t know what it was. You are also my irresistible Domme, and I really am your slave girl now. I promise to believe everything you tell me, and to obey all your commands. Whenever you aren’t using me, I will also obey Sir Michael as if he were you. I know you have Sir Michael, and you don’t need me as your permanent property, but for the time being, I’m yours.”

“Good girl!” I told her. “Accept this collar as a sign of my ownership.” And as I put the collar on her, there were tears of joy in her eyes, and, I admit, in mine too.

Then I lifted her chin and kissed her forehead, triggering a set of posthypnotic commands I had given her. “Slave Wendy, tell your Master Michael how you feel about him now!”

Our slave padded over on her hands and knees to where Michael was watching this with total attention. “Sir,” she told him, “I understand now that you are a deeply masterful man. I am your slave girl, too, and how I serve you is for you and my owner Mistress Allison to decide. But....if this girl may ask a favor.....may I please give you a blowjob?”

Michael was dumbfounded. Wendy would never do that for him when they were together before. But now her whole attitude toward him had changed. He could see, from her flushed skin and erect nipples, and her happy smile, that she really wanted to do this. He could also see the glassy eyes and smooth, relaxed face of a deeply hypnotized person, which told him how that happened. Like the good little submissive he is, he looked over to me to see what I wanted.

“Have fun with our slave girl, darling!” I commanded him. “and—Happy Birthday, Michael.”