The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was Ralph, a colleague from work, who first mentioned Zen Palace to me. I casually mentioned that I was feeling a bit stressed lately, and that my back and shoulders were starting to ache as a consequence, and that’s when he suggested that I visit Zen Palace, as he had done a few months back. “You will never believe it”, he said, “you will feel like a new man afterwards”. He even handed me a card: it was a plain white card, with just a phone number in it; nothing else, not even the name of the spa. I found it a bit odd, but didn’t say anything.

I said that I would call, even it I was not sure of doing it.

“If you call”, said Ralph, “remember to ask for a deep sub-tissue massage”.

“A deep tissue massage?”

“No: a deep sub-tissue massage. I had never tried it before, and it is amazing. Truly amazing. I go back there almost every week for a session”.

I said thanks and went back to my desk. I googled “Zen Palace”, and I found a few places, but none of them were on our town; I googled “deep subtissue massage”, and Google didn’t even recognize the expression. I imagined that it was some kind of new age mumbo jumbo created to make them sound different and innovative: if a deep tissue massage is good, imagine how good a deep sub-tissue massage must be!

I almost forgot about Zen Palace, until a few days later, when my back pains came back with a vengeance, to the point that I almost could not get up from bed. That is when I remembered Ralphs card. I looked for it in my wallet, and to my amusement I discovered that it was still there. I looked at it for a while and, still hesitant, dialed the number on the card.

And that’s how it all started.

The girl on the phone sounded sexy, her voice was deep and sweet, almost seductive. She gave me an appointment for that same afternoon, gave me directions and thanked me for my interest in Zen Palace. “I assure you that you won’t be disappointed”, she said before hanging up.

I got to the place five minutes before the scheduled time; it was quite close to work, in an elegant office building. I was surprised to find no sign on the door, no name or anything; it was obvious that they didn’t want unsolicited visitors!

When the door opened I was received by a smiling petite girl, very professionally dressed. The hall looked like that of any other expensive spa: clean, aseptic, with white walls and puffy sofas. The girl checked her computer and signaled to the door on her right.

“It is all ready for you, sir, please come this way”

She guided me through a corridor, and into a dressing room.

“Please take off your clothes and put this towel around your waist. Then you can go out through that door, your masseuse will be waiting for you”. I was a bit confused and, above all, a bit embarrassed.

“All of my clothes?”, I asked, “even my underwear?”

“Yes, but do not worry, everything will be locked and secured for you. We just want you to be as comfortable as possible”.

She closed the door and I hesitantly undressed myself. I would have preferred a bigger towel, but I did what I could to cover myself with some dignity. Then I opened the opposite door, and crossed it.

It was like entering in a completely different world. Everything outside was bright, white and light; here it was all dark red and less than half-way lit. It took some time for my eyes to get used to the sudden darkness; when they did, I saw a small room with a thin mattress on the floor, surrounded by candles. The room was considerably hotter too, and I could hear some vaguely oriental music.

“Hi, I am Clara”, someone said, startling me, “I will be your masseuse today”.

I turned myself to look, and I was surprised to see that Clara looked almost exactly like the receptionist. She was also petite, also beautiful, although with rounder hips and maybe slightly bigger boobs.

“Hi, Clara, nice to meet you”.

“Please lie on the mattress, face down. I will be with you in a moment”.

I did as she said, trying to keep the towel on my butt while I knelt down on the mattress. I could hear her moving some trays with glass bottles on them, then changing the music to a more soothing melody, and then she was by my side, placing her hands on my back.

“Please relax”, she said, “and enjoy your deep submission massage”.

“What?”

“I said, please enjoy your deep sub-tissue massage”.

“But it sounded like you said…”

“It would be best if you close your eyes, that will help you relax and enjoy all the sensations of the massage. It will take about two hours and a half”.

“Two hours and a…!”

“Please do not speak during the massage. Just listen… and relax”.

I did as she ordered, still baffled by the idea of being two hours and a half on the floor. Specially in a room that was so hot, almost like a sauna…

She poured some oil on my back, and spread it through my shoulders and neck. The oil, too, was hot, and thick. For the first ten to fifteen minutes, the massage seemed like any other massage, there was almost nothing special about it; being called “deep sub-tissue massage”, I expected it to be quite strong and even painful, but it was nothing of the sort, in fact it was very subtle and pleasing.

The only thing that I noticed is that Clara was somehow synchronizing her movements with the music, pressing the same points when the melody got high, and some other when it got low… After a while I realized that, to my surprised, my body had learned to expect her cycle of touches, and when she made them, exactly in the same order, exactly at the same pace, I felt relieved and satisfied.

The other thing that I noticed is that Clara would not shut up! She kept droning on and on about how I needed to relax, how it was important to let go, to ease my mind, to relax, to relax, to relax… How could I relax if she wouldn’t shut up about it? I tried to think about something else, but it was impossible with her distracting (and sensual) voice in my ear.

But after fifteen minutes or so, I noticed that I was feeling very week, almost dizzy; maybe it was the heat, the rhythmic pressure on my back, the soothing music, the intoxicating smell of the oils, or her constant instructions to relax and submit, or a combination of it all: my body felt numb and my mind was foggy, it was difficult to concentrate on anything other than Clara’s voice. I tried warning her.

“I am… feeling… a bit funny”, I said, trying to move my arm and failing.

“That is because you are fighting it”, she replied, “don’t fight it, let it go, relax, trust me, just enjoy your deep submission massage”

There it was again! This time I was sure she had said “submission” and not “sub-tissue”. But at this point I was too dizzy to correct her… I tried fighting it, really tried to break myself from her spell, but I was too confused and too weak, words could not transform into words in my brain, my body would not respond to my commands.

That is when I noticed that the towel was not covering me any more (had it fallen off, or had Carla taken it away?), but again, I could not gather enough strength to complain about it. I was so weak, so relaxed, so foggy, that all I could do was to let go and see what she wanted to do with me.

Carla kept pressing my back, my neck, my shoulders with her hands and, more and more, with her arms and elbows. Sometimes her hand would go further down my spine, getting to caress my ass and my balls; she made it look quite casual, but it was obviously deliberate, and send chills and sparks all through my nerves. And while she was playing and toying with me, she kept talking to me, with her mouth so close to my ear that I could feel her breath.

“Relax, relax, just feel my hands on you, let go, submit to the feelings, submit, relax, enjoy, submit”.

Her words entered my mind and seemed to occupy it completely. And I accepted them, I stopped fighting them, and worrying about my state of complete weakness and submission. It was good to submit. To relax. To obey. It felt like I was floating, like I was in paradise. Clara’s hands kept pressing specific points on my body, and every time she did, I went one step deeper into my submission.

I completely lost track of time: it could have been an hour, if could have been five; I may have passed out at some point. When I got back to my senses I discovered that Clara had taken her gown off, and she was pressing her whole body against my back, caressing my legs with her smooth feet, my arms with her silky oily hands, my back with her round boobs. She moved like a snake, dancing on top of me, still in rhythm with the music.

And she kept whispering truths into my ears.

“It feels so good to relax, it feels so good to submit, it gives you so much pleasure to surrender yourself, to give in, to let go, to relax, to submit, to surrender”.

I got lost in her dance, my whole body pulsating with every beat of the music, which corresponded with a shift in her position on top of me. I could feel myself get aroused, my dick being pressed against the mattress with her every movement.

And yet, somehow, I knew that I was not allowed to cum, even if I wanted to. I had to wait until she gave me permission, because by that point my body belonged to her. A cloud of bliss and pleasure and anticipation engulfed me, and again I lost myself in time and, maybe, unconsciousness.

Suddenly, something changed: I know could feel two voices, one on each ear; I could feel two pairs of feet caressing my legs up to my crotch; I could feel four hands pressing my arms, my shoulders, my back, my neck. I was locked inside a hot tree of bodies and oil, and my mind was being filled with pleasure and submission and the identification of pleasure with submission.

With my last bit of strength and consciousness I tried setting myself free from their embrace, but they were much stronger than me at that point, physically and mentally; their bodies where tightly intertwined with mine, there was no escaping. But really, did I want to escape?

“Relax, let go, go deep, surrender, submit, relax, feel the pleasure, submit yourself, let go”, they chanted, as they pressed their breasts against both my sides, and their bare bodies thrusted against mine dancing with the music. Sometimes they spoke the same words at the same time, making them echo in my head as a bomb; other times, they whispered different things, teasing my mind into trying to make sense of their words.

I didn’t need to: I only needed to relax, to let go, to surrender, to enjoy my deep submission.

“Turn around now”, said one of them, maybe Clara, maybe the other one, who could be the receptionist. To my surprised, my body obeyed to her order and I turned upside down without even deciding to do it.

They changed their positions: one of them was kneeling between my legs, the other one by my head, pressing my shoulders down. Soon enough they started their dance again, rubbing their bodies on my skin, dancing under the light of the candles with an agility and a synchronization that I could not even begin to understand. From time to time I felt a part of their bodies rubbing my crotch, and I tensed, asking for a relieve of my desire; but that relieve kept being postponed, and I was in hell, and I was in heaven.

At one point, the girl who was sitting next to my head moved forward, and placed her pussy in front of my eyes. I could see it dance in front of me, so close and yet... I put my tongue out as far as I could, but I still could not reach it. I don’t know how long this new torture lasted, with one girl pushing me down and tempting me with her open pussy lips, while the other turned and twisted and caressed every inch of my skin with her hands, her tits, her sweet soft soles, her ass, her whole body.

“Submit”, they chanted, “submit, submission is pleasure, pleasure is submission, submit, submit”.

So I did, and I stopped trying to reach her pussy, and I started trying to reach orgasm. And that is when I got rewarded. The girl on top of me moved her hips in a wide circle and then placed her ass on my face and her pussy, oh, her glorious pussy on my mouth. And at the same time the other girl grabbed my dick with her feet and her hands and started to slowly stroke it with marvelous circular movements.

I know what the deal was, again, without having to be told: the faster I licked, the faster I would get to cum; and only when I made the girl cum I would be allowed to orgasm myself.

And so I licked, and licked, and licked, that was all that was in my mind, that and the mantra that the girls kept repeating now, as the chant: “submission is pleasure, pleasure is submission, submission is pleasure, pleasure is submission”.

I could taste and smell the girl’s arousal on my tongue, on my mouth, all over my face. I almost couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t matter: all I wanted was to lick that girl’s pussy to oblivion. I was so close, I could feel the other girl synchronizing the movement of her soles and hands to the movement of my tongue.

I was so close, and submission was pleasure, and pleasure was submission!

I thought I was going to pass out, I thought I was going to die, but with a last effort I flicked my tongue on the girls clit as fast and as hard as I could. I felt her tense up, I felt her arch and tremble and flinch and then… the other girl accelerated her strokes, and then…

And then…

The orgasm hit us both at the same time, like an explosion. I heard her scream, still mouthing “pleasure is submission, submission is pleasure”, thrusting her pussy against my lips, my mouth and my tongue. But I could not understand her words, because I was engulfed by a wave of intense pleasure that irradiated from my sex, and kept growing and growing, and growing, expanding well beyond my own body, making me spasm and scream in agony and in delight…

It seemed that I was cumming for hours; waves and waves of pleasure kept hitting me and the girl, and the other girl would not stop stroking me and caressing me in ways that made the pleasure explode again when it seemed that it was receding.

When it all ended, I could hear myself repeat, over and over again: “pleasure is submission, submission is pleasure. Pleasure is submission, submission is pleasure”. Then I fell asleep, or passed out, or died.

I woke up; the room looked completely different. The girls were gone, the candles were gone, the music was off and a bright white light was on. Somebody had cleaned all the oil and all the other fluids, and I felt as if I had just woken from a good long nap. Even the towel was back in place.

I saw that the door to the dressing room was open; I stood up and walked out of the room, still feeling a bit dizzy. My clothes were where I had left them; I took a quick shower and got dressed in a daze; I noticed that my hands were trembling a little.

I walked out by the door on the other side, I found the receptionist waiting for me with her very professional outfit.

“I hope that you enjoyed your massage?”, she asked with a smile.

“It was, yes… or at least… I think it was. Everything is a bit blurry…”

“That is perfectly normal”, she replied, “sometimes massages can make your blood pressure a bit low, it is normal to feel a bit weak and disoriented, eve to have some hallucinations…”

“Hallucinations?”

“Yes, you may have fallen sleep and dreamt the whole time you were in there…”

That didn’t sound right but… anyway, who was I to argue?

“How much do I owe you?”, I asked, taking my wallet out of my pocket.

“Oh, no, you do not have to pay us”

“What?”

“No, you do not have to pay us… for now. We will find ways for you to repay us in the future… and it won’t be with money”, she said, with the same smile as before.

My mind had quite a hard time comprehending what she had just said; it was all still quite dreamy, quite unreal.

“No money, then”.

“No. No money”, she confirmed.

“Ok, then, I guess I will see you again!”

“And I know that I will see you again”.

She chuckled. I chuckled, even though I was not sure what I was chuckling about.

I said goodbye and walked towards the elevator. The doors were almost closing when the receptionist looked at me in the eye and said: “Submission is pleasure” “Pleasure is submission”, I replied, without even realizing that I was uttering those words.

Then the doors closed, and I walked out of the building, feeling like a new man.