The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“His Eyes, Her Eyes”

They both look into each other’s eyes with the same quiet confidence, each one playing the encounter out in their mind the exact same way. Their gazes lock, unblinking, challenging. His lips curl in a crooked smile, already imagining her eyelids slowly fluttering as that firm stare softens into a glassy, unblinking trance. “Deeper and deeper,” he says, intoning the word like a chess player making an opening gambit.

She smiles right back—a predator’s smile, wide and hungry. Her tongue slides out, licking her lips with slow and sensuous anticipation. She’s always the first one to introduce sexuality into the game; if he has a weakness, it’s that he’s a little too eager to draw her into surrender. His cock always dictates the pace of his inductions, and she loves to use that against him. “Sinking into an easy, relaxed hypnotic trance,” she replies in purring tones. She notices out of the corner of her eye that his cock twitches just a little, but she knows that looking away now would earn her an instant forfeit.

“Resistance melting away,” he replies. He’s careful not to use any pronouns; just as neither one of them can break the other’s gaze, the rules they’ve agreed to have specified that the suggestions can’t be directed from one to the other. This isn’t a test of their hypnotic skill, they’re both too talented for it to matter. This is purely a test of their desire for control. Which one of them wants to control the other more? Which one can resist the allure of trance just that tiny bit longer? He feels sure that this time it will be her.

But her eyes challenge his certainty, sparkling with excitement at the thought of his stare becoming fixed and unfocused as he listens to the words and surrenders to the knowledge that they’re intended just for him. “Relaxing and drifting into obedience,” she says, knowing that the language she uses is intimately familiar to him. It’s the language of trance, the language of submission, and she’s sure that he’s eager to feel that sensation stealing over him once more as she whispers out her seductive mantras.

“Down and down...and down,” he fires back. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, trying not to blink. Blinking isn’t against the rules—for that matter, either one of them could close their eyes at any time. But after so many trances, it’s hard to open their eyes once they finally slip shut. Even the tiniest of flutters by one of them is an admission of weakness that the other will pounce on. Better to fix his gaze tightly on her, conveying with his expression that he already knows she’s going to submit. It’s just a matter of time.

“Thoughts just slipping away into warm, hazy confusion,” she whispers, breathing out the words like a soft puff of air on his stiff cock. She wants to look down and see what kind of effect it’s having, but if she does, it’ll be the last thing that she remembers of the evening. Both of them have the same triggers, the same suggestions programmed into their minds on a deep and instinctive level. To cheat is to instantly go into a blank, mindless trance. She’s caught him out with that a few times, shifting her body in just the right way to draw his gaze to her cleavage and his mind into hypnosis at the same time, but she hasn’t scored an easy win like that in months. That’s fine with her, though. She’s happy to earn this.

He doesn’t mind doing it the hard way either. “Mind going blank and still,” he says, his voice firm and commanding. He knows that she’s deeply conditioned to respond to that tone of confidence. That’s what makes the game so much fun—each of them uses their victories to reinforce the other’s surrender, reminding them of how good it feels to sink into trance and obey. He’s not above reminding her of the pleasure of submission, teasing her with his words until her arousal does the rest of the work for him. It’s not fair, but following the rules and playing fair are two very different things.

She has other ideas, of course. There are so many different kinds of pleasure, and the thrill of dominance has a special flavor all its own for her. That’s why they came up with this contest in the first place—some days, she’s eager to lose herself in the quiet bliss of trance and allow herself to be guided, while others she’s hungry to put him through his paces as the hypnotized pet she knows she wants to be. “Can’t resist,” she husks out, trying to keep her fingers from twitching toward her pussy. She knows he’ll use it against her if she does.

“Can’t think,” he counters. He can tell that this could be a long contest. She’s no more in the mood to submit today than he is. That was the source of too many fights, too many frustrations. Some days they both wanted to be the one on top, others they both wanted to surrender. Finally, they agreed to just leave it up to their subconscious minds. Sooner or later one of them would feel the balance in their mind tipping over to submission, and that would settle things until the next time. Or until one of them gave up on the idea of resistance entirely.

“Don’t want to think,” she teases back. She knows that even though she doesn’t use the word ‘you’, she’s still saying the words that speak to his deepest, most submissive self. They both have their own little kinks, words and phrases that spike their arousal in an instant and slip past their defenses. And she knows that if irresistible hypnosis is hers, then giving up on the whole idea of resistance is his. She’s going to play it for everything she’s worth.

He does feel his cock pulse and stiffen in his jeans at the words, but he fights the desire to touch. Once one of them begins to openly rub or stroke, that’s usually a sign that the contest is nearly over. Sexual pleasure makes it too hard to concentrate, and the distracted one is always the loser in this game. “So easy to go deep and blank and mindless,” he says. Not that there’s really a loser. Just a different kind of winner.

“So easy—” She catches herself. “—to relax more and more,” she forces herself to say, trying her best to make the pause sound natural, “with every passing moment.” She feels a wave of exhaustion pass through her from the effort. For an instant, it seemed so easy to simply repeat his words back to him. But she knows that mindless repetition is a sure route to hypnotic submission. She can hear that phrase beginning to loop in her head—mindless repetition leads to hypnotic submission—and she forces herself to think about something else. Something that’s not a mantra he implanted.

“More and more hazy and suggestible,” he says, emphasizing the word ‘hazy’. He’s hoping he can lull her into relaxation by using her own words to establish a rapport. It’s risky—rapport cuts both ways, and they’re both too accustomed to each other’s phrasing and techniques to avoid slipping into memories of trances past. But he knows he needs to cut this short if he wants to win. His cock is beginning to throb, and he can feel a tiny damp spot growing where the tip of it presses against the fabric of his jeans. If it gets any larger, she’ll notice it out of the corner of her eye, and she’s too skilled not to find a way to work it into her next attempt.

“Hazy and weak,” she says, trying to remember that the words are meant for him and not a description of her own state of mind. She can tell that she’s dangerously close to the tipping point, that delicious moment when the hypnotic words stop being an attempt to draw the other person into trance and start feeling like a description of her own state of mind. She already sounded just a little too vacant to be convincingly mesmerizing, her voice sounding preoccupied and distant as she retreats into her own mind.

“Thoughts foggy now,” he replies, hearing the blank monotone she’s using and knowing he’s finally winning. He can feel it just from looking at her, seeing the way her eyes are hooded and heavy-lidded and staring unblinking into his own. She’s going deeper, he realizes. Deeper into the soft, hazy fog. His cock is like an iron bar in his pants as he imagines how good it’s going to feel when her eyelids finally slip shut once and for all and she sinks into that thick, white mist that he can already picture perfectly in his mind.

“So sleepy,” she says, her voice sounding thick and sluggish in her ears. She feels the weight of trance on her now, heavy and inexorable, but she clings to the belief that he’s just as dizzy and dazed as she is. His eyes are locked onto hers, looking thoughtlessly straight ahead in a vacant stare as his hand slowly begins to rub himself through his pants. He looks like he can’t even remember how to blink anymore, and she knows that there’s a part of him that’s just looking for permission to let his heavy, sleepy eyelids slam down and float away into obedience. She just needs to find a way to give it to him before he can finish her off.

He can tell that she’s close, though. Her nipples are stiff and pebbly beneath her shirt, almost distracting him to the point where he breaks their staring contest to look at them, but he forces himself to keep watching her eyes. “So aroused,” he whispers, knowing that the words are describing him more than her now but unable to think of anything else. “So aroused and obedient.”

“Aroused and obedient,” she replies. She knows that she’s just repeating his words back to him now, but it’s too much effort to think of anything else to say now. She tells herself that she’s using it against him, repeating what he thinks of as most hypnotic in an effort to lull him into mindless repetition that leads to hypnotic submission, but it’s a faint hope. She can feel her eyelids start to flutter.

“Aroused and obedient,” he says back, his voice now a monotone as well. If it worked once, he thinks, it can work again. She’s lost in the repetition, lost in his eyes, lost in a deep trance already that’s making her so aroused. So obedient. His eyes narrow further, nothing but a slit now that gazes back at her. She’s so close to giving in. He knows it. He can feel it.

“Aroused and obedient,” she whispers. The words seem so perfect. They curl around her thoughts, tangling them up in desire and submission until all she can think about is how hot and sensual it is to be aroused and obedient. She’s giving in, but she doesn’t mind now. It’s too much like work to resist anymore. Her hand reaches out to caress his cock, unzipping his fly and feeling the stiffness of him under her fingers.

“Aroused and obedient,” he responds, reaching out to slide his hand under her skirt and into her panties. She’s so wet, he thinks absently as he slips a finger into her pussy. She’s so aroused. She’s so obedient. The words echo in his head, looping around and around until they’re all he can think about.

“Aroused...and obedient,” she husks out, stroking him faster and faster as her mind sinks into the pleasure of his fingers in her cunt. She can’t keep her eyes open anymore—the sheer bliss forces them shut and makes them roll back in her head as she moans under her breath. She’s submitted now, surrendered completely to the ecstasy of trance, and all she wants to do is give in to her desires and cum for him.

“A-aroused and obedient!” he gasps, no longer seeing anything anymore as the throb in his cock pulses like a warm wet mist with every stroke of her hand. He can’t remember why he wanted to win anymore, not when losing feels so good like this. He’s hypnotized, he’s pleasing her, and she’s rewarding him so well that his eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a tiny whimper as the pleasure becomes more than he can bear.

“Aroused and obedient,” she chants, her voice mingling with his as they each work the other’s sex faster and faster, harder and harder. “Aroused and obedient aroused and obedient aroused and obedient aroused and ohhhhh!” Neither one of them knows, when they awaken, which one came first. As soon as they hear and feel the gush of pleasure, the words dissolving into the panting moans of climax, their orgasms blend into a single mind-blanking hypnotic rush of bliss. They slump against each other, too relaxed to care about the game anymore. There are no losers. Just different ways to win.

And eventually, they wake. At which point the discussion of scoring a double loss playfully begins.