The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Are you ready to go home?”

“Um... well, am I ready?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Do you think I am ready? That’s all that matters, right?”

“Well, in case you didn’t know, it’s Sunday morning, and you’d need to go home now anyway—” she picked up her keys off the table—“but yes, I think you’re probably ready. I think we can stop here. You’ve done very well.”

“Have I? I wanted to do well. I want to do well for you.”

“Of course you do. And you’ve done very well, sincerely. Do you remember what I was saying to you a minute ago?”

“What, like, right before you woke me up and asked me if I wanted to go home?”

“Yes.”

“I... I remember being under, but I guess I don’t remember anything else too clearly. It just kind of seemed like more of the same thing you’ve been saying to me, doing to me all weekend long.”

“Yeah, I guess it sort of was. Do you remember how you got to that place?”

“...Um, you just looked in my eyes, said the trigger phrase, and snapped your fingers, right?”

“Yes.”

“Again, after that, no, nothing specific... it’s just kind of the same thing you’ve been doing to me this whole weekend. I guess it’s... it’s all started to kind of run together.”

“Yeah, I know... for me too. But from those answers you’ve just given, I think I can safely say you’re all done now. Congratulations. Aren’t you proud of yourself? Aren’t you glad you got it all out of the way?”

“I... guess. So now I just go home? I... I guess I thought that once I was done, once I was trained, we’d finally...”

“I’m exhausted, Jim. I’m sorry. I have clients to get back to; I have to rest and unwind and sleep, too. Believe me, this weekend’s been just as hard on me as it’s been on you. Probably harder, actually; I’ve been doing all the hard work.”

“Oh. I’m... I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s OK, Jim. And in a few days...”

She touched him, one of the only times she’d actually laid hands on him for the course of the entire weekend. Her hand reached out to cradle his chin and cheek sweetly. Jim felt sheer bliss sweep over him, closed his eyes, and involuntarily pressed his face into her hand, as if it were filled with magnets. He thought about kissing her hand, then thought better of it.

“...in a few days, you’ll see me again, and you’ll finally begin to reap some of the rewards of all of this, I promise. In the end, you won’t regret any of this.”

Jim said nothing, smiled weakly and sadly.

“Now, Jim, let’s get your clothes back on... and this blindfold.”

Julia dropped him back off at the office outside his car, handing him the MP3 player with no specific further instructions for its use. She quickly reiterated her praise for a training weekend gone right and her claim that she’d call him in a few days. And for whatever it was worth, she did roll down her window to kiss him lightly on the cheek right before she pulled away. Jim felt electricity course through him from the contact of her lips. That electricity faded quickly as he watched her car speed off out of the parking lot.

Fall was descending quickly on the area; the cold and wind were just enough to be seriously unpleasant. Jim grabbed his keys, shivering, and jumped in to start the car. Waiting for the heat to kick in, he powered up his phone for the first time in two days. There wasn’t much new to see. Wes had texted to ask if he was free to come watch the game at the wings joint the previous afternoon. That was just about it.

Jim pocketed the phone, rubbed his hands together, stared absently at the steering wheel for a minute or two. He put the car in gear, headed toward the campus exit. He stopped for just a moment at the edge of the parking lot to get his sobbing under control.

Sitting on the couch at home, freshly showered, Jim stared at the little MP3 player Julia had sent home with him, rubbing it with his thumb like a stone. He thought back to the events of the weekend, to the previous day.

He’d awakened on Saturday morning to the MP3 player’s hypnotic audio in his ears. Just as Julia had planned, her recording caused him to drift into and out of trance over and over. The earliest part of the morning ended up as a dull but delirious blur, falling under, awakening, falling under even deeper, awakening; he quickly lost track of how many times the cycle had repeated itself.

Sometime later, she’d emerged from the bedroom, gotten him out of “bed,” tested the instant induction in person, deepened him, awakened him, tested the induction again, deepened him, made him horny, made him jack off, made him surrender himself completely, put him back under, put another MP3 on that kept him under, may have left the room for a while but he couldn’t be sure, eventually came back (if she ever left), awakened him, put him under, awakened him, put him under, awakened him, told him to start jacking off again, actively put him under while he was jacking off, made him surrender himself again. Then she put the MP3 player back onto him and went to get them lunch.

That was the morning.

The rest was pretty much more of the same. Jim started to feel strangely weird and queasy about the ongoing process, and that was well before he’d eaten lunch.

Lunch itself was sort of memorable in a way, because Julia insisted on testing how fast she could put him under practically between bites. At one point she badly misjudged her timing, and he almost dropped the remainder of his lunch onto the carpet as a result of instantly falling into trance. They both sort of laughed about that. Then she put him under again with a snap of her fingers.

Other than that, Saturday afternoon and evening were much the same as well. She would put him under and wake him up, put him under and wake him up, over and over. Sometimes she would bring him under instantly by telling him to “sleep” for her, which did magically seem to work better and better every time. Then she’d wake him right back up in a minute or two. Sometimes she’d do that two or three times in a row.

Other times—usually right before she would make him jack off and surrender himself again—she would bring him under by making him look into her eyes at first. Jim understood why; he noticed that, just as she’d suggested, he would always go under the deepest and fastest when looking into her eyes on the way down, and he was growing so spent and uninterested in yet another orgasm that he had to be very, very deeply under for her to trigger and manufacture his interest.

Then, after he finally came in the depths of mindlessness, she’d “take a break” in the bedroom, sending him back to the MP3 player or the now very familiar pussy-circling video.

Jim did remember somehow noticing for the first time, sometime in the mid-afternoon, how nicely her fingernails were painted in the video. She seemed to have taken off that nail polish sometime before she turned up to take him in for training. He wondered why she’d removed her nail polish that week. Her hands looked a little different in person too, somehow. These were dumb observations, totally pointless ones. But there really wasn’t a lot else around him to think about, at least when he was awake and able to clearly think about anything.

During the whole of Saturday’s never-ending series of trances and orgasms and awakenings, Julia never once touched him. She never kissed him. She showed few signs of palpable tenderness in general. It felt almost like she was training a stranger’s dog, not a future lover.

Jim would feel himself get angry about all of this for a moment every so often. That anger, having arisen, would suddenly turn into a deep, sad resignation before dissipating completely, popping like an insignificant soap bubble, leaving Jim an emotional blank slate. He figured this might have been one of the things she’d “made happen” by suggesting it to him on the MP3, a suggestion buried somewhere in the deepest part of the trance cycle... the part of the recording he could never seem to actually remember.

And he was actually pretty grateful for that suggestion, if it had existed. He just wanted to become what she needed him to become as quickly as he could, to get this horrible fucking part of the process overwith, to be with her, to actually experience what she’d promised him... to fully explore what he’d now promised her.

As such, even though he kept feeling weirder and queasier and lonelier, less and less like himself as the day went on, he just let her do all of it, genuinely surrendering to Julia’s process without further question. Whenever he was awake, he found himself immediately looking forward to being back in trance again. He looked forward to it less for the feeling of bliss that it had brought him early on, more because it took that weird, queasy, increasingly lonely edge off of everything.

Being in trance mostly prevented Jim from thinking about anything else. It mostly prevented him from feeling anything else. Every time he was under, he found his dim conscious mind wishing over and over that she would never wake him up.

Sometime early in the evening, though, when Julia tried to have him bring himself off for what was probably the fifth, sixth time that day, Jim just couldn’t take it any more. He snapped out of the trance, told her he wasn’t doing it, that he couldn’t do it, not again... not alone.

At that point, Julia smiled, looked sort of sad. She patted him on the head and turned the TV on for him... on an actual broadcast channel, for once. Then said she was going out to get them dinner.

As soon as she arrived back in the room with what looked like more greasy takeout, she left it on the table, excused herself and came back, out of nowhere, in a simple and modest negligee. Jim’s eyes grew huge at the unexpected sight. She looked absolutely beautiful... beautiful beyond words.

Then she’d turned off the TV, picked up the food, and invited Jim back to the bedroom.

“No physical intimacy, and no kissing,” she’d reminded him gently as he arrived at the bedroom doorway.

She got fully under the covers. Then she motioned for Jim to lie next to her, although she still wouldn’t let him lie under the covers with her.

She made him turn toward her to face her, made him look into her eyes. She kept him in a relatively light waking trance as she made him feed her bite by bite in bed, holding his mind down with her words much less aggressively than she had during the rest of the day.

They talked about nothing. She joked with him. She was smiling, giggling, playful, girlish, sparkling. She was so different than she’d been all weekend long.

Jim finally felt like his repeated surrender might have meant something to Julia... like it was leading to some kind of closeness with her, some kind of emotional reward, however tiny for the moment. It was a taste of what was to come, and it was positively delicious. He knew he was visibly glowing from the . He could no longer tell if it was the trance state, what she’d made him feel and think and believe in the depths of trance for the last 24 hours, or if Julia was just naturally intoxicating. He figured it was probably a little of all of these things, and none of it mattered anyway.

Soon she told him to put the food down. He saw her smile wide, saw her eyes close. “Do you hear that?” she asked him. He didn’t.

She was asking if she could hear her beginning to touch herself gently and slowly under the covers.

Soon, Jim could hear... something down there. Then he saw her look grow more serious... heard her begin to moan and coo.

“Let’s look into each other’s eyes, Jim,” she said, “and we’ll cum together this time.”

Jim had no problem having two more orgasms that way. She talked him through trance continuously as they masturbated together, but for whatever reason, she didn’t make him re-surrender with each orgasm this time.

Sometime later, Jim awakened from heavy slumber via a sharp poke in the shoulder, finding himself still on top of the covers. Julia was telling him that it was time for bed. Bed for him was still on the couch in the suite’s living room.

She walked him to the couch, put the MP3 player’s headphones onto his head, and then closed the bedroom door.

All alone, sitting in a very gray apartment on a very gray Sunday, Jim mostly tried to focus on all the wonderful little bright moments from the brief time he’d spent in bed with Julia the night before. He kept replaying the looks on her face, the sweet sounds she made, as she came, no longer able to hold Jim’s eyes in focus with hers. Jim hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her regardless.

He remembered being so physically spent from all that Julia had made him do to himself already, and yet so incredibly aroused by watching her, even with her entire body hidden from his view.

Each time Julia came, Jim just couldn’t help but cum right along with her... or, at least, he couldn’t help but cum a minute or two immediately after. Her scent filling the room... the obvious earthshaking intensity of her orgasms, the hazy, faraway look in her normally-intense eyes after she came... it was all just so beautiful. He wished he had another word for it; “beautiful” was hopelessly insufficient. It was still all that came to mind.

Jim tried to focus on that specific, tiny set of sweet memories. He focused on when he’d finally get to see that faraway look in Julia’s eyes as a result of his actions. Hopefully it would be soon. After all, he’d been trained now.

...Thinking much about the “training” part of the weekend, the vast bulk of the time they’d shared, just brought back the queasiness, the loneliness, the unease that he’d felt most of the waking weekend with Julia. It made him feel legitimately icky, set off all kinds of alarm bells. He didn’t want to hear those alarm bells; it was far, far too late for any of that to matter.

All he wanted was to see Julia again, for her to make good on her promise... for him to see what it was like to really be with her... to not just fall into her eyes or her voice... but to fall into her, body and soul.

And he knew that even if she called him tonight by some miracle, it would feel like an eternity waiting.

Jim had absolutely no idea how to spend that time. He could only keep the visual image of Julia’s two beautiful climaxes in his head for so long.

He looked at his watch. 3:48pm. Christ. Only 4? Not even 4?

He looked at the MP3 player still in his hands, remembering the never-ending loop of numbing trance that it had brought him over the weekend.

Until now, Jim thought the absolute last thing he’d want to experience this afternoon was yet more trance. But sitting alone, aching for Julia’s return, and simultaneously unable to keep brushing away some of the less-than-savory memories of the training process he’d just undergone... it suddenly seemed that being awake was unbearable.

Jim picked himself up off the couch, took off his clothes, and set his alarm for the workday morning. He plugged in his phone, laid it on the pillow next to him. Then he got under the covers, put on the headphones, and pressed “play.”

Sleep for Julia.

Slamming naturally into hypnosis as a distant grin crept onto his face, Jim still had just enough of his conscious mind left to hope momentarily for one of two things: that he’d awaken to a call from Julia, or that he would never, ever wake up.