The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Title: Click

Author: &c

Click. You hear a noise behind you as you’re walking down the street to work. Click. You look around you to see if you can locate the source. You can’t. Your body tightens, fists clenched. Something feels strange. You’re practiced at staying in control. Some would say you have nerves of steel. Click. You look around, and find that the street is empty, even though it’s the middle of the day. This isn’t right. You feel the urge to fight, or to run, but you can’t. You press yourself against a wall and will none of this to be happening. Surely this must be some trick of the brain. But it isn’t. Click, you hear, as your eyes start to feel heavier and heavier and you slump to the ground.

Click. Click. Click.

Your eyes open wide to the same, now familiar sound. You look around to figure out where it is coming from, but it’s dark, and you can’t see anything. You start to panic a bit, but then you hear:

Click. Click. Click.

The sound echoes in your ears, but you can’t figure out where it’s coming from. It feels like it is inside your head. You move to sit up and notice that your legs and arms feel like lead and won’t respond.

Click. Click. Click. The sound repeats again. You go to call out but your mouth feels like it is glued shut. Your lips won’t open.

You can feel a throbbing start in your body. There’s an ache there; familiar. You suddenly notice that you’re naked, and again, you start to panic a bit. Your mind feels both hazy and totally clear. You’re sure this must just be some sort of dream.

But it’s not.

Click. Click. Click.

You hear a voice, close, almost as if it’s inside your brain. “Hello,” she says. You try to respond but you still can’t. “Ah yes. Let me.”


Your mouth is suddenly free, and, while you would usually yell or shout or demand to know what is going on, instead, the only word that seems to be able to come out of your lips is a timid “Hi.” You move to say more, but you can’t.

Her voice surrounds you, “Hmmm. Hello. How are you?”

The only word that comes out of your mouth is “Nervous.” You have no idea where that word came from. You are not the nervous type. But yeah, right now, you are fucking nervous.

“Hmm. We can take of that.”

And then you hear: Click. And suddenly your nerves are gone. Your body feels calm, (except for that persistent throb). And now that your nerves are gone your brain feels very, very clear.

“So, you might be wondering what you are doing here. I know you are the curious type,” she says, “but all you need to know is that this is exactly where you are meant to be. You don’t need to understand, just be. But I will tell you that we have been watching you for years. Studying you. Figuring out what makes you tick. Slipping subtle messages and cues into your daily life, all of which have led you to this place at this moment, to be under our control once and for all.”

Your body is relaxed but your brain is racing. “Focus” you hear from inside your brain. You can’t tell if it is your voice or hers. “Focus on this moment, and on the instructions I am giving you.”

This is definitely not your style. You hold your life in a tightly controlled circuit. The idea that someone else is going to dictate your actions would normally repel you; you rebel at authority. But for some reason, your brain keeps coming back to that word “focus.”

Click. Click. Click.

Your arms and legs are feel light. But they are moving on their own. Your left hand reaches out to find a strap attached to the bed. Your right hand feels about and your feet start to move you notice other straps. You count: four. And it is clear to you what you are to do.

Your hands move rapidly to tie up first one foot and then the other. You hear inside your brain “Tighter” and you immediately pull on them harder and harder, until they can go no further. Your legs are spread wide at this point. You feel vulnerable, open, but calm. You lay down and look to your left. Your right hand tugs and pulls at the strap until it is wrapped around your left wrist. You pull it tight, but not so tight that you can’t slip the cuff over your right hand. You get your right hand in, lay down, and wait.

“Good” you hear. But this time, it’s not just from inside your head. It’s from outside, inside, everywhere, as if amplified from every corner. “Good. We’ll take it from here.”

Click. Click. Click. You can feel that someone is next to you. They test the straps on your feet. And suddenly the voice that was inside your head is coming from the figure at the foot of your bed. “Hello.”

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of her heels and the feel of the left hand strap being tugged lets you know where she is. “Hmm. We can make that a bit tighter, can’t we?” And she does. She reaches over your body to the loose right strap. “Well this won’t do at all, will it?”

You, in a surprisingly eager voice, say “no.” You’re not sure where the answer came from, but you know it is the right one. She tugs at the strap. She tugs at it some more to make sure that it is tight. “How does that feel?”

You try to clear your throat, but instead you can only cough up the word “good.”

“Louder,” she says.

“Good,” you repeat, clearer and with more force, in a voice that is yours but comes from a place you do not know.

“Good. Good boy.”

Click. Click. Click. She stands and moves back to the foot of the bed. With each step she takes, you notice that that throb that used to be running through your body is now very, very much localised to your cock. Your balls feel incredibly heavy and swollen. Each click of her heels makes you grow a little longer, a little harder, a little thicker. And suddenly, all of those little pulses and throbs have resulted in a very erect cock. You almost feel a bit embarrassed; you’re usually in so much control and here you are like an eager teenager. As if reading your mind, she says, “Hmmm. Good. But I bet I can get you harder.”

And that’s when she puts her hand around your cock. It’s like a jolt of lightning going through your body. Her grip feels so strong, and you start to thrust your hips up toward her hand. She retracts her hand.

“Stop,” she says. “No moving. You have to remain perfectly still.” You lean your hips back into the bed, aching for her touch to return. Thankfully, it does. You want to writhe closer to her, but fear that she might retract her hand again keeps you from doing so.

“Good,” she says, as she starts to stroke your cock. She grips it hard at the base and releases as she comes up, making it feel like she is pulling on every single inch of you. And you keep growing from her touch. She wraps her other hand around your balls and tugs at them gently. They start to fill a little more, something you didn’t think possible. She can tell. “Hmmm. Good.”

She starts to stroke your cock with more regularity. Up and down, again and again. A moan escapes your lips, and from somewhere deep inside, you start to say the word “yes. Yes. Yes.” You can hear your voice saying the word, but you don’t know where it’s coming from.

She leans in close to your ear, and whispers “yes? Yes to what. Yes to you want me to make you explode? I will. Yes to the fact that I own your cock? I know. Yes to the truth that you can only cum when I say so? You’re right.”

And from your very core, you know it’s all true. And your instinct is to fight, to say no, to resist, to say that you are still in control of the situation. But you’re not. Your brain is not your own. Your voice is not your own. Your cock is definitely not your own. You hear one heel click on the ground as it falls off her foot, and then the other. Her body settles down onto your own as she straddles one of your legs and wraps both her hands around your cock.

“You’re mine,” she says.

And the only thing you can say is “yes.”

“Yes,” she repeats. “Good. But you know you need to say more, don’t you.”

You don’t want to say more. You don’t want to admit just how out of control you are right now. You don’t want to admit that someone else has figured out exactly how to push all of your buttons. But she, they, whomever, have. And from your mouth the words “yes, you own my cock” come bursting forth.

“Hmmm-ummm. I know.” She starts to stroke you faster. Your brain is no longer in control of your mouth and the words coming out of it. Frenzied speech starts to erupt from your mouth, louder and louder, “yes you own my cock. Yes I want you to make me explode.”

“Good,” she says. “Good.” And as she strokes your cock with both her hands, up and down, again and again, you can feel the cum rising. You can feel it building up. And even though you are primed to resist at all moments, always ready to be in control, you are forced to realize that that is clearly not the case in this situation. Someone else is in charge here. And she is much better at being in charge than you are.

It starts to happen. You try to resist; you’re usually very good at resisting. But not now. Now, you only feel the urge to give in. Now, you know that someone else is going to make you cum, instead of you making that choice. Now, you know that someone else has gotten into your brain and is making the decisions for you.

She leans over and whispers in your ear “now.” Your hips start to buck but she presses them back down. She is going to stroke this out of you. She is going to take this out of you despite all of the defenses you have spent a lifetime building up. And you can feel it happening through your whole body. You can feel the incessant pressure building up at the small of your back and radiating into your cock. You know that you need to cum. You know that you need to cum now. She knows it too. She squeezes, harder, faster, taking you past the brink to where you know it’s inevitable. The urge to fight leaves your body, and the only thing you can think is “now now now I must cum now.” You start to shoot, and she wraps her mouth around your cock to swallow every drop. You keep shooting and shooting, harder than you ever have before, your whole body tensing and releasing as your cock throbs and throbs. “Good,” she says. “Good. Mine. Now. Good” and she keeps stroking, making sure that there is nothing left in your balls.

“And what do you want now?” she asks.

In a voice that is yours but not yours, you simply say “More.”

Click. And she begins again.