The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A teacher should be in charge of the classroom, right? I thought that’s how it always was when I was in school. High school, then college, then even when I was getting my master’s degree, it all seemed the same – the teacher was the one running the show. And that’s how it was at first, when I got a job as a junior assistant professor, teaching “Introduction to general studies” at the local state university. It felt a little strange making the change from one side of the desk to the other—a little weird to transition from being just Derek to having to be “Professor Belton” 170 minutes every week. I tried to be relatable, the friendly teacher that all the students liked. Sometimes it worked, and I think it helped that I was only 25, just barely out of grad school, and closer to their age. But at the same time, the university directed its professors to always maintain control in their classes. And I did that....until one student turned it all around.

Lauren Meyers was the smartest student I had ever had. Sure, I’d had students that got higher grades than she did – she wasn’t one of those classic over-achievers. In fact, to pass her on the street, you wouldn’t know there was anything special about her. But her work showed a level of insight and understanding that most college freshmen don’t have. And there was something else about her...something I couldn’t put my finger on, but that was inexplicably alluring...

I was musing about this in the back of my mind as I handed back the midterm papers in my class. It was a Friday, and an afternoon before a long weekend. No one wanted to think about school. It was hard enough already to get the students to really engage, but to get them to do anything of the sort on a friday afternoon with big weekend plans on their minds was hopeless. Well, except Lauren, she always seemed engaged in class.

I came to her paper in the stack I was passing back. What was it about her that made her so appealing? I know the university had strict policies about student-teacher fraternization, so I kept trying to push the thought out of my head. But it would just pop back in again, no matter what I did.

What made her so irresistible? I couldn’t help myself from furtively looking her up and down as I made my way to where she was sitting at the back of the room. It wasn’t anything particular about her appearance. At a glance, she looked like almost any other college coed; well, a bit more attractive than most, but she wasn’t built like a super model. She had a slim, athletic build, stood about 5′5″—nothing out of the ordinary there. Her breasts were nice, yes, but I didn’t find myself unable to take my eyes off them during my lecture. She did have a gorgeous face, though, behind her plain wire-rimmed glasses. And these eyes!....they were a deep blue, somehow both dark and bright at the same time. When she made eye contact with me in class, it was like two sparking sapphires shining straight at me. More than once, I’d daydreamed about what it would be like to get lost sinking into those eyes. But that couldn’t be all, could it?

Lauren didn’t dress especially provocatively, even. Today, her appearance was downright normal – her chestnut hair pulled back in a plain ponytail, a hooded sweatshirt covering most of an eclectic-looking t-shirt underneath. She wore tight jeans, but not any tighter than the fashion seemed to be. I allowed myself the guilty pleasure of sweeping my eyes down her legs, from hip to toe, imagining what they were like under those pants. My eyes drifted down to her ankle, where I caught a glimpse of her fair, smooth skin showing between the bottom of her jeans and her plain white ankle-high socks. Her plain black converse sneakers tied the outfit together. I’ve always had a thing for girls’ socks and feet, and looking at hers I felt a pleasant little buzz building inside me.

I forced myself to look away, afraid someone might notice me staring. No one ever did, though. Half of them were staring blankly ahead, the rest either staring blankly at their papers, or quietly texting, as if that would stop me from noticing.

I was finished handing back the essays. “Alright, everyone, I guess that’s it for today. If there aren’t any questions, I’ll see you all after the break”

There was a mad scramble for the door by some of the kids in the front; the rest were too apathetic to hurry. I started making my way back to my desk at the front of the classroom. I passed by Lauren’s desk again, where she was still sitting.

“Hey, Lauren, great job. I found your paper quite interesting.” The papers were biographies of historical figures and their contributions to society. Lauren’s paper had been the only one that didn’t bore me to sleep. She had picked Anton Mesmer, who no one had chosen to write about in any of my classes before. I tried to ask casually: “How did you pick Mesmer as your topic?”

“Oh, I’ve been reading a lot about of his work in one of my other classes, so I thought it would be interesting to research the background more.”

I frowned; what kind of first-year course would include that? “What’s your major, anyway?”

“Psychology”, she answered. “It’s a special advanced seminar on hypnosis and trance.”

“Whoa, neat!” I replied, “I had no idea we even offered a course like that.”

“It’s just a one-time offering, that’s why they’re letting me take it, even though I haven’t done the prerequisites and it’s intended for seniors only”

“So, are you hypnotizing your roommate into doing all your laundry now?” I joked.

She cracked a smile, and almost giggled. “No, just my socks. And she has to give me foot-rubs any time I swing my pocketwatch in front of her eyes.” Lauren joked back.

I laughed. ‘Wow,’ I thought to myself, ‘she is adorable! I need to back off before I look too interested’ I’ve always had a thing for feet, so hearing her talk about her feet and socks was....well, let’s just say it was ‘interesting’. And even her joke about hypnotizing her roommate got a rise out of me, filled my head with pictures of Lauren sitting there, swinging a gleaming watch in front of the eyes of some helpless, captivated coed kneeling on the floor next to her.

“Why are you so interested, professor Belton?” She asked. It was the last thing I expected her to ask, and my mind was racing to find a reasonable-sounding excuse for my questions.

“I dunno, I’ve just always been curious about hypnosis, I guess—I always wanted to know what it must be like to be hypnotized, and how it works. It seems like an interesting phenomenon, y’know?”

“Yeah, it’s really very fascinating.” she said.

Whew. I thought I was in the clear, she seemed to buy it. “See you next class,” I said, excusing myself from the conversation and heading back to my desk. I answered questions from a few students who were hanging around the front of the room waiting for me. The rest of the class continued filing out of the room. I noticed Lauren at the back of her row, just now getting up from her seat.

The rest of the students were almost all gone at that point, so I started packing up my lecture materials. I tried to look nonchalant, afraid I was going to toe the line of the campus sexual harassment policies.

“Hey professor? I have a quick clarification question”, I heard Lauren say.

“Okay, sure, what is it?” I responded politely.

“So, you said you’ve always been interested in hypnosis. Is it just a curious interest, or....is it maybe more of a fetish?” I couldn’t believe she had actually used that word – ‘fetish’.

I chuckled awkwardly. “Just an interest”, I said, trying to play the situation off.

“Ah, okay”, she replied. “You see, a lot of times people who say they’re curious about hypnosis aren’t just idly curious. A lot of times the people who mention it are the ones who have thought about it a lot – fantasized time and again about being hypnotized and seduced and controlled, and they just don’t want to admit it...”

She looked at me for a moment. I did my best not to blush, or flinch, or show any sign that this student had just accidentally touched on one of my most secret desires.

“Anyway,” she finally said, “sorry if I made you uncomfortable by asking such an awkward question”

“Oh, don’t worry about it” I replied, still feeling a little perturbed.

We each returned to packing up our things. All of the other students had filed out of the room at this point, eager to get started on their weekend plans. I finished putting my things in my backpack, and headed towards the door. As I looked up, I saw that Lauren hadn’t left, she was still standing there, looking at me expectantly.

“You know, it’s pretty fortunate really, there’s actually a sure-fire way to tell if someone is just curious about hypnosis, or if they have a full-fledged hypno-fetish.”

“Oh?” I replied uncomfortably, trying to come up with a tactful way to get myself out of the situation before it crossed any serious lines.

“Yes.” She said, matter-of-fact-ly. “Someone who’s just curious about hypnosis usually won’t know much about it, so you really have to tell them you’re going to hypnotize them before you do. You can’t just swing any old necklace in front of their eyes, or they’ll just giggle and think you’re being silly. But once you tell them what you’re about to do, and that it’s going to work, it’s like you flipped a switch in their mind, and suddenly they go right out.”

I swallowed hard, trying not to quiver.

She looked me straight in the eye as she continued. “A fetishist, on the other hand, has thought about being hypnotized so many times, and in so many ways, that it’s really hard for them NOT to go under. Someone who’s just curious, you have to work to put in a trance. But a hypno-fetishist, it’s like they’re 3 steps ahead of you. As soon as you get ready to start an induction, they’re almost totally entranced already.”

Her eyes seemed to be getting bigger somehow. Wasn’t she all the way on the other end of the room just a second ago?

She suddenly broke eye contact, and looked down, taking off her glasses. I blinked a few times, startled, and shook my head to try to clear the cobwebs out. Just as suddenly, she stepped in closer to me. ‘Was this too close?’, I wondered distantly. But then she was looking up at me again, her eyes right there, in front of me, right in the center of my vision, and so close they seemed to block out everything else.

Huh? She was talking again. Or still. Had she stopped?

“So you can use that to tell if a person is just curious about hypnosis, or has a real hypno-fetish – all you have to do is look into their eyes. Any old person off the street will just look back at you. They might feel a little awkward, but they’ll stay wide awake until you start putting them under. But if you’re a fetishist, you’ll suddenly find yourself paralyzed, frozen right here in my power, trapped in my gaze as you just stare deeper and deeper into my eyes. And it doesn’t even matter what I say, or if I say anything at all. It’s far too late for you to stop yourself from thinking about how deeply my eyes can hypnotize you...and how deeply you are falling right now...too hard to stop yourself from thinking about how easily you are slipping into my control, and how badly you want to let that happen as your mind just drifts away....”

I thought I understood what she meant...that did seem reasonable. but why did everything seem so foggy? And how long had she been staring at me like that?

‘I should stop’, I thought. ‘Just one more second, and then I’ll look away and this will all be over’

I have no idea how long I stood there, totally lost in her eyes.

“If you had a fetish, you might be getting hard right now, just from staring into my eyes as you get sleepier and sleepier and more and more compliant. If you were a hypno-fetishist, you would be paying rapt attention to me, feeling so obedient.....thinking about nothing other than what I tell you, and noticing how incredibly aroused that makes you feel”

I felt her hand on my hip, and tried to move away, but somehow her eyes held me there, pinned, paralyzed, completely at her mercy. I needed to get away. She was on to me. I had no idea if she had somehow figured out my secret, or just cold-casted and guessed it, but she was dead-on. Which meant that she was absolutely right. I tried to move, tried to look away from those deep, beautiful eyes that held me captive. I tried to pull away. And all I felt was my body getting heavier and more relaxed under her touch as her hand softly and slowly inched in across my thigh.

In my peripheral vision, I saw her lips move into a devious and gleeful smile. Her hand was right in front of the bulge in my pants. She caressed it teasingly, and gently squeezed. My cock stiffened even more as she started to play with it.

“Oh my, you ARE hard for me, aren’t you? So very hard, I can tell. Do you know what that means? It means you have a fetish.”

I simply stared back, unable to do anything else.

“And do you know what that means?", she asked teasingly.

I wasn’t sure. I shook my head, unable to even come up with words.

“It means...” she began, slowly, tauntingly, like a spider addressing the fly already entangled in its web, “that I could take total and complete control of you right now if I wanted to. It would be as easy as just snapping my fingers.”

She held up three fingers in front of her eyes. I was lost, didn’t know if I should look at them or her eyes. It was so hard to decide.

I looked into her eyes. And then back at her fingers. She was only holding up two now. Her eyes swallowed my vision once again.

Now there was only one finger. I let out a sigh of relief...hopefully, I wouldn’t have to keep thinking about this. ‘If she puts down that last finger’ I thought, ‘I can just stare into her eyes and not worry about any of this, and that would be so nice...’ And now it was gone.

snap

SLEEP!

My eyes slammed shut. My memory grew hazy after that moment. I remember my head tipping forward, her catching me, keeping me upright. I remember her massaging my temples. And feeling her lips just millimeters from my ear, whispering....something. I’m not sure what it was. But the feeling of her breath against my skin like that, and feeling her words penetrating deep into my unconscious mind sent shivers down my spine. Shivers that only seemed to send me even deeper. Or maybe that was just her snapping her fingers again....

I remember her asking me some questions.

“Doesn’t it feel so good to be so relaxed with me here like this?”

“Yes”

“Good, you’re doing so well, so very well now, just answering my questions openly and honestly as you keep relaxing to the sound of my voice. You can be totally honest with me, can’t you professor Belton?”

“Yes.” She was so close, so comfortable, it felt so safe to be honest with her for some reason.

“Good boy. Do you like being hypnotized by me like this? Do you want to go even deeper for me?”

“Yes”

“Good, you’re such an excellent subject. In fact, you’re such a good subject that every question I ask takes you 10 times deeper. And every time you answer a question for me like this, you sink another 20 times deeper. you Do you understand?”

“Yes”

“Can you feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper with every word I speak?”

“Yes”

“Have you ever fantasized about me?”

“Yes”

“Have you ever imagined me hypnotizing you?”

“Yes”

“Have you ever thought of me while you were cumming?”

“....yes”

“Good boy.” mmm...that felt so nice to hear from her.

“Now sleep even deeper, five hundred times deeper NOW”

snap

She was talking to me...I think... I can’t really remember. I remember her voice. I had no idea what she was saying, all I could notice as her voice and how incredibly smooth it was, like it was wrapping around me. I remember answering some questions, but I’m not sure what they were. But they weren’t like questions the other students all ask, I remember these were much different. Lauren was so exceptional, she went above and beyond all the other students....

The next thing I could remember clearly is opening my eyes, to see Lauren looking at me with a disappointed expression on her face.

“Was my question really that dull, professor?” She asked.

“Wow! I’m so sorry, Lauren – it’s been a long day, and a really long week, and I’m exhausted. What was your question again?”

“Well,” she said, “I’m just confused about some of the material from this class, and I wasn’t able to come to your office hours this week because I have another class then. Do you think maybe I could come to your office now, and we could talk about some of it?”

“Um....” I hesitated, stalling, trying to think of a tactful way out. I came up with nothing more than an image of her sitting in my office on my desk, looking down at me seductively.

“Pleeeaase?”

“Okay, sure, I can spare you an hour or so”, I conceded.

“Thank you so much!” she said exuberantly. “You’re, like, the only professor I feel like I could do this to.” Hm. That seemed like a strange way to put it. But everything felt a little strange, and I was confused about how I had blacked out and lost my memory from the past half hour.

[End of chapter 1]