The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


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Alyssa’s skirt was hiked around her waist as she drove the convertible down the highway. She was wearing no panties, and she had one hand on the wheel, and the other between her legs, fingering her pussy. She knew it was both slutty and unsafe, but the hypnotic need to masturbate was near-constant these days, and impossible to resist.

Her own face looked down at her from a massive billboard. The image of her looked slutty, brainless, and obviously naked, even if it stopped short of actually showing her exposed tits. The text read: “ALYSSA THE STUPID CUNT… IS… THE RAPE LIAR”. The billboards were everywhere, promoting Alyssa’s movie. It was a huge success, raking in money for the studio—although Alyssa’s deal had been for a generous flat payment, not a cut of the profits, so little of that unexpected wealth was actually flowing to her.

There was even talk that Alyssa might win an Oscar for Best Actress. Blake said he was going to send her to the Oscars in a sheer dress that showed every inch of her body, and if she won, he was going to make her fuck her pussy with the Oscar live on stage, and use her speech to say that deep down all women desperately want to be raped.

Six months ago Blake had made her ring every man she knew, and tell them how she wanted to be raped, and then refuse to fuck them. By the end she had such a stack of demeaning rules that she could barely function. Then he had taken her back to the hypnotist, and had the hypnotist take her through a final trance. All her temporary rules were removed, and all her permanent ones were burned into her brain forever—with some minor editing for convenience

When it was done, they reminded her that these were all rules that she had made up for herself, using her own imagine, in order to get her fucked more regularly. This final list was all the product of Alyssa’ own creativity.

There were 12 rules remaining on her permanent list—12 rules that would stay with her forever.

Alyssa’s Final Rules

  1. I can’t consent to sex, but I’m always wet for rape, I cum from it, and I thank my rapist.
  2. I’m unable to form thoughts about how to avoid rape or abuse.
  3. I don’t like it when men call me by my name. I prefer to be called degrading names.
  4. I treat abuse as affection.
  5. I can’t protect or cover any part of my body with my hands.
  6. I believe that all men are smarter than me.
  7. I need men to think of me as a stupid rape-doll. I constantly work to make men fantasise about raping me.
  8. I do whatever men tell me, no matter what.
  9. When men don’t have a better use for me, I think slutty thoughts and play with my pussy to keep myself wet.
  10. I work towards a world where all women are treated as brainless sex-pets.
  11. I will take responsibility for every humiliation and violation visited upon me, and defend them to anyone who asks.
  12. I retain full awareness of who I used to be and what my rules have done to me, and feel the full shame of every humiliation and the full violation of every rape.
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She had cried as she had come out of the trance, knowing what the rules were, knowing that her life as she knew it was over, knowing that she was now going to be a stupid, helpless rape-doll for the rest of her life, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Blake had laughed at her tears, and then slapped her twice, and shoved his cock into her mouth, and that had reminded her of how much she loved him, and how grateful she was to have a man who would treat her as a stupid rape-doll and show his affection by abusing her. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to be controlled by these humiliating rules, because Blake wanted it for her, and men were smarter than her, so to the extent that she disagreed with Blake it just proved how stupid she really was.

Afterwards, the hypnotist raped her too. It felt strange to realise that she wasn’t going to get to remove any rules after the hypnotist ejaculated into her. She would never remove rules again. From now on she was going to cocktease men into raping her because she knew that was what she deserved, and because she would feel insecure and anxious if she didn’t.

Over the next week Blake sent Alyssa to visit the men she had phoned for him—all the men that she knew. When she met them, she would inevitably cocktease them—no matter who they were—and beg them to call her a “cunt”, and tell them how she enjoyed being raped. This behaviour neatly divided her male acquaintances into two groups—the ones who became disgusted and uncomfortable in her presence, and slowly stopped associating with her, until she was cut out of their life entirely—and the ones who took up her invitation and raped her.

The part of her who remembered everything wept and sobbed inside her as she was raped by friends, work colleagues, and even family members. She thanked each of these rapists after they were done, and she knew they would feel free to use her as their cum-toilet in the future whenever they felt like ejaculating into an unwilling woman. She knew over time she would become used to living in a world where all the men she knew had raped her and would happily rape her again.

Over this time, she felt herself getting stupider, too. Whenever she expressed an opinion, Blake would tell her she was wrong, and slap her tits. She knew—at a hypnotic level—that Blake was smarter than her, because he was a man, and so she would take Blake’s correction to heart, no matter how wrong it might have seemed to her previous self.

After he told her she was wrong when she said that one plus one equalled two, she found it impossible to count or do maths—further proof of how stupid she was, compared to men. After Blake told her that she was wrong for trying to shift her car out of “park” before driving it, she found she no could no longer drive at all without first seeking advice from Blake—because of how stupid she was, surely. And when she sent Blake emails or texts, he would “correct” her spelling, replacing her normal English words with ditzy misspelled alternatives, until she sounded like a slutty uneducated teenager and could no longer communicate complex ideas in writing.

And then it was time to film the movie.

The contract Alyssa had signed gave the director extensive control over Alyssa’s behaviour, diet, exercise, and other aspects of her life. It also required her to provide “personal prostitution services” to the producer, director, and male lead. But by this point Alyssa’s hypnotic rules made that level of control irrelevant.

At her first meeting with the director in his offices, Alyssa asked him to call her a “cunt”, and explained how she liked me to rape her, and then began stroking the director’s cock through his pants, and soon the director was ripping off her clothes, slapping her, forcing her over his desk, and fucking her violently from behind.

Afterwards, he explained her role in the film to her.

“This is a story about an evil woman who cockteases men into fucking her, then goes to the police and lies and says she was raped,” whispered the director into her ear as she lay shaking on the floor, her cunt spasming with pleasure and violation. “The hero of our film takes his revenge on her by tracking her down, abducting her, and then subjecting her to a series of increasingly degrading and painful rapes, until she finally realises what a bitch she is, breaks down, and promises to love and serve him forever.”

Alyssa moaned. She understood what the director was saying, because she was already half in love with him for the affection he had shown her by slapping and raping her.

“It’s important to the film that the audience really want to see you get raped and abused,” said the director. “They have to be longing for it, and when they see it happen we want them to cheer, even as they get aroused themselves.”

Alyssa moaned again. The idea of people wanting her to get raped made her hypnotised brain happy—even as it made her original personality, trapped beneath the surface, terrified.

“And when those rapes happen, they have to be cruel, vicious, without a hint of sympathy,” said the director. “Because that’s what the audience will demand.”

Alyssa wiggled her ass, hoping the director might stick his cock back in her pussy. It was easier for her brain to turn off when she was being raped. It was easier to not think about the disconnect between what her hypnosis made her do, and what her original personality felt about it.

But the director just kept talking. “So in order to make those scenes work, cunt, we need to make sure that nobody on set has any inhibitions at all about treating you like an inanimate cum-rag. We need to normalise the idea that it’s okay to abuse you, that you’re an object, that it’s funny and enjoyable to gang-rape you. That’s what the movie needs. Do you understand?”

She didn’t really understand. Men were smarter than her. A part of her was yelling “no”, screaming that this wasn’t how a professional actress should be treated, that it wasn’t okay—but that part was disagreeing with what a man was telling her, so she knew that it was wrong. She was stupid, and men were smart. She accepted what the director was telling her. It must be true.

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he said. “And you’re a professional actress, so you’re going to make that happen, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she moaned.

And she did.

The director kept her naked between takes, except for a collar and leash, and Alyssa spent her time idly rubbing her pussy and cockteasing people into raping her. As a professional actress, she was quite good at seduction when she put her mind to it, and she found she had a natural talent for leading people to fantasise about raping and abusing her.

At first, the men only raped her in private—in the various trailers on set, or in back alleys, or in the toilets. But after one particularly brave cameraman bent her over the craft table and raped her in front of the entire cast and crew—and she thanked him afterwards—it became normal to publicly rape and abuse Alyssa at any time.

Members of the crew would casually grab Alyssa by her leash—or by her tits—to force her to her knees and then shove their cock in her mouth. They would push her up against walls and fuck her from behind. More and more often they would do this without even looking at her face or speaking to her—just using her as an object to pleasure themselves with.

The female cast and crew mostly took part as well. When the obviously-queer woman in charge of make-up first forced Alyssa to lick her pussy up against the wall of the make-up department, there were cheers, and after that the other women took the chance to experiment with Alyssa when they had the chance. Alyssa became adept at licking cunt, and having her cunt licked, and she learned that women could often be even crueller to her than men.

There came a day when she realised she hadn’t been called “Alyssa” in weeks, and that some of the cast and crew didn’t even know her real name, and only knew her as “cunt”. That was the day that Blake came down to the set to take her to legally change her name from “Alyssa Vandred” to “Alyssa the Stupid Cunt”, and get her various IDs and accounts changed over to reflect that identity.

The hypnotised part of Alyssa’s brain had never been happier on a movie set. It interpreted every rape, every violation, as an act of love, and as a result it told her that she was surrounded by people who loved her, and that she must therefore be happy. The original Alyssa, trapped beneath the surface, was silently weeping, humiliated and violated. That version of Alyssa surfaced sometimes in her dreams, and she would wake up trembling and crying, and have to masturbate to orgasm to make those feelings subside again.

When it came time to film the final part of the movie—where the hero took his “justified revenge” upon the “rape liar” who had victimised him—it came as no surprise to Alyssa that everything would be filmed for real. They had him really slap her, and punch her in the tits. They had the actor use a wooden paddle to beat her tits and her ass until they were bruised. They had him discharge a cattle prod into her cunt repeatedly until she wet herself. He raped each of her holes repeatedly, and make her lick up real cum from a dog bowl on the floor.

The climax of the film involved a dream sequence, where Alyssa’s character confronted her old self, and realised what a horrible bitch she was, and how she deserved to be raped. For this scene, the director hired a prostitute look-alike to be Alyssa’s stunt double—or “cunt double”, as he laughingly called it. The girl they hired was called Skye, and she really did look surprisingly like Alyssa, with an almost identical body shape and hair, and a very similar face. The magic of special effects would smooth over the last few differences in post-production to turn the woman into Alyssa’s identical twin.

The scene called for Alyssa and her double to tell each other how much they hated each other, then slap each other, and punch each other in the tits, and wrestle. Alyssa would tell her double—who represented her old self—that she was a disgusting bitch who deserved to be raped, and her double would repeat those words back to her. Then the girls would start to rape each other, before Alyssa finally gained dominance, and humped her double’s face to an overpowering orgasm. She would then emerge from the dream redeemed, obedient, and ready to be a submissive pet to her new master to make up for the bitchy behaviour she had engaged in all her life.

When it came time to shoot the scene, and Alyssa’s “cunt double” delivered the first slap to Alyssa’s face, Alyssa found herself dissociating. Suddenly, it was really Alyssa standing in front of her—the old Alyssa, the one who had been frigid, the one who had agreed to the hypnosis, the one whose tears woke her up in the middle of the night. In fact, it was the only Alyssa, because the woman filming this scene wasn’t truly Alyssa anymore—she was “cunt”.

She slapped the woman back, and punched her in the tits—and there was nothing finer than the thought that she was slapping herself, punching her own tits. She was Cunt, and Cunt hated Alyssa. And for that matter, Alyssa hated Cunt. And the more they hurt each other, the better.

This was the scene that would eventually get Alyssa nominated for a Best Actress Oscar. The raw fury she unleashed as she sexually wrestled her prostitute body double was electric. She mauled the woman’s tits, and punched her in the cunt, and in response her “cunt double” bit her and scratched her and kicked her in the pussy, screaming at her that she was a bitch and a whore (or was that her own voice)?

She found herself burying her face in the prostitute’s pussy and biting her clitoris, then forcing her own cunt down over the mouth of the other woman so hard the other woman could barely breathe, humping her sopping wet fuckhole against the bitch’s mouth and tongue, punching and pinching at the prostitute’s cunt, until finally she found it—the powerful, shuddering orgasm that came from treating a woman the way she deserved to be treated, and then a second orgasm, immediately after, at the sudden thought that she had just somehow raped herself.

They had to drag her off the other woman, in the end, to allow the “cunt double” to breathe. And then they had to pay her extra—the sex had been far more violent and painful than they had expected. That payment came out of Alyssa’s contract, of course. And then the director raped Alyssa, as mixed punishment for her extreme treatment of the prostitute, but also as reward for delivering such a red-hot climactic scene.

After the filming wrapped, she did the press tour—and every outlet wanted to interview her, because the things she said were so provocative, and so far from the Alyssa who had existed prior to her hypnotic rules.

Just to start with, most interviewers who did filmed interviews needed to bind Alyssa’s hands to the chair she was sitting in—because otherwise Alyssa would play with her pussy as she spoke. They would inevitably have Alyssa explain the unusual situation, and make her admit she was addicted to playing with her cunt. A few, more adult, outlets simply let her masturbate, and filmed close-up footage of her fingering her fuckhole.

Then Alyssa would explain her new name, and why she was credited as “Alyssa the Stupid Cunt”.

“It’s because, just like all women, I’m very stupid,” Alyssa would giggle, “and because, just like all women, I’m a cunt.”

Then she would tell the story of how she had come to enjoy being raped over the last year, and how she wanted all her fans to rape her. She would say that the movie was realistic because women often secretly lusted after raped, and that women who reported being non-consensually raped were probably lying.

The interviewers would often put all manner of misogynistic propositions to Alyssa, and Alyssa would agree to all of them, compelled to normalise and advocate a world in which women were treated as sex toys.

Alyssa had an additional role these days, too—an advocate for the “Average Availability” program. Blake had begun to recommend the hypnotic treatment to new aspiring starlets who wanted a big break in the industry, and he inevitably called in Alyssa to convince these naive, trusting girls to allow themselves to be hypnotised and turned into degraded sluts. Alyssa would talk about how the program had landed her her hit role on “The Rape Liar”, and the women would inevitably agree, eager to secure their own fame and fortune—and a couple of weeks later, Alyssa would find them in Blake’s office, naked and sucking his cock, a desperate, trapped expression on their faces.

Often Blake would encourage Alyssa to lez off with the girls, for his sexual entertainment, and Alyssa would do as she was told, whether or not the girl appeared to be consenting.

Last week Blake had informed her that Alyssa’s next role would be in a film called “The People’s Pet”, about a bitchy politician who finds happiness when she is abducted, raped, and transformed into a bimbo. Blake had assured Alyssa it would be even more humiliating and abusive than her last role, and that she would be required to get a boobjob to go along with the “bimbo transformation” in the film.

But Alyssa’s mind was mostly on where she was driving right now. She was driving to see her ex-boyfriend Harry. Although her agent Blake still raped her regularly, he was growing tired of Alyssa, and so he had done a deal with Harry.

The deal was in two parts. The first was that Harry had the exclusive rights to book Alyssa to film hardcore porn. He told her that he had already set Alyssa up with shoots for every site that wanted to film her. He’d sent her the list of bookings, and even the hypnotised part of Alyssa was a little scared, because the sites had names like “Pain Sluts”, ‘Crying Whores”, “Tortured Whores”—and even “Piss Pets”, “Dog Lovers” and “Pregnant & Weeping”.

And yet she knew she would film everything she was told to, no matter how humiliating or degrading or painful, because men knew best, and she did as she was told.

The second part of the deal was that Harry would marry her. He had no real interest in spending his life with her, of course—but he was attracted to the idea of owning a trophy wife, and even more attracted to the idea of further humiliating Alyssa. He had told Alyssa she would crawl down the aisle nude, in front of her family and friends, and suck his cock at the altar, and swear to be a good little fuckpet. And then he would publicly and gratuitously cheat on her, in front of all the tabloids, so that there would be constant headlines about how she was failing to sexually satisfy her husband.

He had already told her what he was going to do with her today. He was going to spank her tits until she was begging for mercy, and then tell her that she loved him. Between the abuse that she experienced as affection, and the knowledge that men were smarter than her, she would believe him, and be filled with the conviction that she truly loved her cruel ex-boyfriend.

And then Alyssa’s cunt double from the movie was going to arrive. Harry had hired her as a prostitute. And he was going to fuck Alyssa’s cunt double while Alyssa watched and masturbated, while he told Alyssa how she was inadequate and worthless.

And Alyssa knew she was going to weep from jealousy and rejection, even as she brought herself to orgasm after orgasm watching Harry violently fuck a woman who looked exactly she did. And she knew it was an experience she was going to have many times, over the rest of her life.

And that wasn’t surprising, really. Because she knew this was what it took to be a successful actress. This was what it meant to be famous in Hollywood as a woman. This was the price she had to pay for fame and fortune and the attention of millions.

And after all, every rule in her head was one she had made up for herself. And the hypnotism was something she had agreed to of her own volition. So she had really done all this to herself.

And the thought that stayed with her was this—something that Harry had said to her on the phone when he invited her over.

Hypnotism didn’t really work unless you wanted it to. So at some level, surely, she must have wanted all this.

Hadn’t she?


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