The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Christmas was nothing but a memory a little too quickly this year. And Craig was definitely distracted all day, though once his hands were bound to the bedposts he seemed to become more focused. By the third time he’d cum he was too tired for much else.

Thursday I got caught up attending to some work and just barely made it home before David was due to arrive. In some ways hypnotizing him was bringing back fond memories of my early experiences with Mitch. Of course, there was also the threat of it becoming boring for that very reason. So tonight I was going to embark on something new with David, something I hadn’t actually done before, but that was bound to provide some entertainment. I’m all for taking my responsibilities seriously. I just think that once in a while I should be able to hypnotize a boy for pure escapist fun.

Promptly at seven o’clock the doorbell rang. This was a good sign; David was carrying out post-hypnotic suggestion days after they’d been issued.

I invited him into the den and exchanged pleasantries. Once I was seated in my chair, he said:

“You said you might have more information for me about being a slave.”

I nodded, glancing at the tan Luggs on his feet. “Are you still thinking that you would want to be a slave if you could, David?”

He nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

“Well, it’s still against my better judgment, but if you’re truly interested, I suppose I can fill you in. Closet Cop.”

David swayed slightly on the couch. I led him through a series of relaxation exercises and deepening techniques. One upside to all these new boys that I was working with was the constant practice I was getting with inductions and deepening procedures. I had become a bit spoiled by Craig and Mitch due to the ease with which their triggers now worked at plunging them into very deep trances.

“David, last time we talked you answered some questions for me. I’m going to ask you more questions now and again you will find that you are unable to tell me anything but the truth. It will be an absolute compulsion to answer honestly and completely. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Are you wearing a recording device of any kind?”

“No.”

“Good. Last time you told me you’re gay. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Do you live with anyone?”

“No.”

“You live alone?”

“Yes.”

“So no one checks in on you regularly at home?”

“No.”

That was just what I wanted to hear. “How’s your investigation going?”

“I believe I have a solid lead on what’s happening to the boys who disappear. I am working undercover at Leatherman’s Club in order to keep an eye on him...”

“David, you will continue to work at Leatherman’s Club, but you will not report any of your suspicions to your superiors. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“That’s very good, David. You’re a smart boy. You understand that you must only speak the truth now while you feel so relaxed. You want to do what is good. You want to do what my voice tells you to do because you know that a slave would do what he is told and you are very interested in becoming a slave. Do you remember when we talked about your socks last time?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of socks are you allowed to wear?”

“White socks.”

“That’s right. Are you wearing white socks now?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t see them, David. You want me to see your white socks. That’s why whenever you come into my home you will immediately remove your shoes. You are not to wear shoes when you are in my home, only your white socks. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You’re wearing shoes now, David. That makes me unhappy. Only a bad boy would wear shoes in my home. Bad boys make me unhappy, David. Do you want to do what is good and be a good boy?”

“Yes.”

“What should you do, David?”

“Take off my shoes?” he asked.

“Yes, David. Take off your shoes.”

He bent over and untied the laces of his workboots, pulling them off his feet. When he sat back his size eight feet were on display in a pair of white crew socks.

“You like to be a good boy, David. You want to do what I tell you in order to be a good boy because you want me to be happy. You like to make me happy. You will remove your shoes whenever you enter my house from now on. When you’re a good boy you make me happy. Tell me, do you wear boxers or briefs?”

“Boxers.”

“Why do you wear boxers, David?”

“I need room. Briefs are too tight.”

“David, you are correct. You need room. And boxers don’t give you the room you need. Therefore you will not wear boxers or briefs under your pants anymore. You will go commando from now on, David. Underwear is uncomfortable and you don’t like to wear it. It bunches and binds, and makes you not feel well. In fact, you really hate wearing underwear and will do almost anything to not have to wear it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like to wear underwear?”

“No.”

“That’s right. What’s more, you are not allowed to wear underwear. Repeat that back to me and know it is the absolute truth.”

“I am not allowed to wear underwear.”

“Good boy, David. Are you wearing underwear now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you allowed to wear underwear?”

“No.”

“Should you be wearing underwear?”

“No.”

“What should you do now?”

“Take it off.”

“Exactly right, David. You’re getting to be very good at this. Take off your underwear.”

I watched as the cute Guatemalan boy on my couch got to his feet and unfastened his jeans. He stepped out of them, then pushed down his plaid boxers.

Leatherman had been right; David was quite well-hung. He stood waiting for my next instruction. For a moment I entertained the passing thought of having him jerk himself off while I watched, but since his long penis was hanging limply against his left thigh I decided it would take longer than I wanted to spend on it tonight. I did wonder just how big he’d be hard, but finding out would be something to look forward to in the future.

“David, put your pants back on and have a seat.”

He stepped into his jeans and fastened them, then sat on the couch.

“This is as it should be, David. You will not wear underwear anymore. Do you work out at a gym?”

“Yes.”

“How often?”

“Three times a week.”

“David, you will begin going to the gym every day. You are about to become a very dedicated weight-trainer. You will lift everyday. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You will not wear any underwear at the gym. You will let yourself hang out as you pump your muscles. You want to be bigger all over, David. You want your body to be big and strong. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Do you have any questions about what you are to do?”

“No.”

“You will return here on Saturday. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

I picked up David’s cast aside boxers and put them in my desk drawer—just a little souvenir of our work together thus far. “David, you will continue to find that each time you tell someone you want to serve a master that you really do believe that you would like to. In addition, every time you hear the word ‘slave’ it has a strange effect on you. Hearing the word ‘slave’ makes you realize that a slave is exactly what you’d like to be. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to be a slave?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a good boy. You will find your desire to be a slave growing over the next few days. 1...2...3.”

David opened his eyes.

“See you Saturday?” I asked.

“I have to work at the Club.”

“Come over here before your shift,” I suggested.

“Okay.” David nodded. My suggestion that he must return here on Saturday made it important to him to find a way to make the scheduling work. That’s one of the things I enjoy about post-hypnotic suggestions. When a boy completes the action he has been programmed to do he finds a sense of satisfaction. David was smiling right now at the mere thought of being able to return when he was supposed to.

He got to his feet and looked down, noticing his boots on the floor near where he stood. He sat back down and pulled on the boots, tying them before standing again.

I escorted him to the door and handed him his leather coat. “I’m glad you decided to come back, David. I enjoyed talking to you about the life of a slave. As a matter of fact, I’m looking forward to discussing slaves with you again on Saturday, even though it’s against my better judgment for you to become a slave. Are you sure you want to be a slave?” I already knew what his answer would be. I’d repeated the word slave four times just now, he couldn’t help but think he’d want to be a slave. What’s more, when he replied yes he would again be reinforcing the idea that he wanted to serve a Master. Sometimes I’m so clever I even impress myself.

“Yes, I’m sure,” David said, grinning.

I opened the door to find Andrew with his finger poised at the bell, a shoebox under his arm.

Damn. That was rotten timing.

“Andrew! Glad to see you. David’s just leaving.”

They acknowledged each other as David exited and Andrew entered.

Andrew walked into the den and sat down. He set the shoebox beside him on the couch and spread his legs wide, his hands dangling between his knees.

“Shine your shoes,’ I said. I opened the shoebox. Black suede sneakers, size eleven, Vans. Interesting choice.

“Andrew, what type of shoes did you buy this time?”

“Skater shoes.”

“Skater shoes? Wonderful. Right now I want you to remove your biker boots.”

Andrew pulled his boots off his white-socked feet. He sat waiting.

“Andrew, you will no longer wear your biker boots. You will stash them at the back of your closet. You are going to begin wearing your skater shoes.” I took him through our usual drill when he changed shoes—he would dress, walk, talk and act in the manner he envisioned a person who wore skater shoes would. I placed the skater shoes on his lap. “Put on your skater shoes, Andrew.”

He bent and pulled on the black sneakers. He left the laces loose and untied. Of course, with his full beard and tight jeans he looked nothing like a skater.

“Andrew, as always you will treat Wade with respect and you will incorporate some of the knowledge you’ve gained about yourself as a biker into your new skater personality. 1...2...3.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows at me.

“What’s up?”

“I have to get going. I have a lot to do.” He jumped up.

“Don’t forget your boots.”

Andrew gathered the sneaker box, the boots, and his coat and said goodbye.

This was beginning to feel like an assembly line. Maybe I should put a turnstile in the doorway to the den?

Today was the day I was going to say goodbye to Alan Jacoby. There was no way I could go on seeing him. Not after last time. I let things get out of hand. Into hand, really...

Stop that! I had to stop imagining sitting on Alan’s couch, his mouth pressed to mine, his hand slowly rubbing my crotch. That could never happen again. I live with Chris. I love him. He spent most of last night keeping me on the edge of cumming. God, I nearly passed out it felt so good for so long.

I knocked on Alan’s door.

He opened it. He was dressed in a Santa hat, red and white striped boxers, and nothing else. Well, except for the big bow stuck to his boxers, covering his crotch.

He grinned a lopsided grin, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Merry Christmas!”

I swallowed hard. “M-merry Christmas,” I stammered, handing him the present I’d brought.

We walked inside. He sat on the sofa. I sat as far away from his as possible.

Alan tore open the wrapping paper and lifted the lid off the box. He held up the sweater I’d bought for him. He yanked off the Santa hat and pulled the striped sweater over his head. “It’s great. Thanks. How’s it look?” He smiled at me.

It looked really good. Better than I’d imagined, actually. He looked really good. I had to stop paying attention to how he looked. “Great,” I said, trying to keep from panicking.

“I didn’t know what to get you,” Alan said. “So I thought that since you saved my life I’d give you myself.” His smile this time was bashful.

I looked at his full lips and white teeth. I wanted to kiss him. No!

He lifted his eyebrows. “Do you want to unwrap me?”

Hell yeah! I shut my eyes. “Alan, I-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. I want you to.” He leaned toward me.

I leaned away. “Needledick.”

Alan’s eyelids drooped. He stopped moving.

I could smell his cologne mixing with the scent of his sweat. That was the first I noticed the perspiration on his forehead. Offering himself to me as a gift must have been nerve-wracking for him. It was really sweet.

I had to stop thinking about Alan. I had to stop seeing him. “I have to stop seeing you, Alan. I think you’re cured anyway. I mean, I know you’re gay now, but you probably would’ve come out eventually anyway. Is there anything else you want to straighten out before I awaken you?”

“I want to suck your dick.”

“What?” I yelped.

“I want to suck your dick.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never done it before. I want to taste you. I want to make you happy. I love you.”

The more he talked, the harder I was getting, and the harder it was to resist him.

“I can’t—” I said.

“Please,” he whispered.

I had dreamt of this in high school—imagining what it would be like to have Alan wanting to suck me off like I had wanted him. But now everything had changed. We were older. I was in a relationship. Because of me Alan had almost killed himself!

But if Chris never found out...

No. That’s wrong. The guilt would kill me.

But it’s not like he doesn’t hypnotize other guys. I bet there have been times when Chris let some guy blow him and didn’t tell me. I mean, God, I was his slave for a long time. He was hypnotizing Mitch back then. I bet he let Mitch suck him off once in a while. If that had been okay, why wouldn’t this be? It would only be one time. Kind of like Alan’s last request—like they do with prisoners on death row or something. Probably guys on death row don’t really ask to suck some other guy off, but that wasn’t the point.

“Alan, do you really want to?”

“Yes.”

“1...2...3.”

Alan looked deep into my eyes.

I nodded. Barely. I felt frozen to the spot. I knew I should get the hell out of there right now before anything else happened. I should just get up and walk to the door, go to my car, and drive home. I should just leave Alan here and forget all about him. I should just...

Alan unbuttoned my jeans and slowly pulled back the zipper. He worked my cock through the fly. I was fully erect already. I forced a smile and shrugged at him. He lowered himself to his knees and kissed the tip of my dick.

A shiver ran through me. It didn’t seem real: my high school crush was on his knees wanting me. Me! Craig Matthews! The guy who’d never really gotten what he wanted. I was always trying to dress like the cool kids and impress other people so that they would notice me and like me. I could still remember the first night I went to Chris’s for dinner. I wore white socks and brown loafers because I knew that was what he really liked for a guy to wear.

Chris.

Get up. Get up. Stop Alan before it’s too late. Push him away. Zip up your jeans. Walk to the door. Drive home. Now. Before you can’t stop.

Alan worked his lips and tongue on me like a pro. He must’ve been very oral with the girls he’d been with, because he knew what to do with his mouth and he wasn’t gagging at all like guys sometimes do when they aren’t used to sucking somebody off.

I clutched the couch cushion with my fingers, feeling like I would cum at any second. I didn’t want to leave anymore. I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want Alan to ever stop doing what he was doing right now. I couldn’t wait any longer. I was going to shoot.

Alan swallowed it all, never blinking.

He sat back on his haunches, breathing heavy.

I was sweating and also breathing hard. I looked at the bulge under the bow on his boxers. I wanted to see what was under that bow. I wanted to show my appreciation for what he had just done, for what he had given me. I wanted Alan as badly as ever.

“Your turn,” I said.

He looked surprised, but grinned the biggest grin I’d seen from him today.

“Let me unwrap my present.” I stood and pulled him gently to his feet, then tugged his boxers down his legs. His erect cock stood pointing at his chin.

I pushed him tenderly onto the couch and began kissing his full lips. I lifted the sweater off over his head. Alan had a beautiful body. I worked my mouth down his neck and across his chest to his right nipple. I spent time working his areola over good. He moaned softly. I worked his left side over before moving down his body to his throbbing cock.

I barely touched my mouth to his member when he erupted.

His face flushed crimson. He looked mortified.

“It’s okay,” I said, hoping it had just been nerves. “It was your first time. We can build your stamina.”

He began to grin. “We can?”

“Uh, yes, I mean, er...” Stop talking. We couldn’t. I couldn’t let this happen again. I couldn’t ever really suck Alan off. But it probably would only take a few small suggestions to keep him from cumming so fast. I mean, I could just tell him he couldn’t cum without permission. Then I could really keep him going for hours. I bet it’d be amazing to have sex with Alan for hours. I wondered how long he could go before he’d want to pass out. I wondered how many times he could cum in one night. I wondered if he’d ever want to do this again...

He pulled me into him and held me against his body. I could feel the pounding of his heart against my own chest.

“I love you, Craig.”

“I love you, too, Alan.”

It was true. I was in love with Alan. And it felt every bit as wonderful as I’d imagined. I wanted to lie here in his arms forever. I wanted to hold him and kiss him and make him shiver and keep him hard and see how soon he’d be ready to shoot again. I wanted to be with Alan.

But what about Chris?