The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Level Ten

by Pan

Chapter 1:

It all started with Elsa.

No, not the Disney character. Trust me, Elsa was not happy when that movie came out. I imagine it was like being named Luke in the 70’s, or Elliot in the 80’s. Or ‘Smalls’ in the 90’s.

And yes, someone has already made the joke that you’re thinking of—that she should just ‘let it go’. Ha ha. Very good. Move on.

Anyway, Elsa. She was my girlfriend—my first girlfriend, in fact. We’d been dating for about eighteen months when I realized: I wasn’t happy.

I wasn’t UNhappy, I just wasn’t happy.

See, Elsa was a virgin. We both were. And that was fine, but a year and a half in…I was sort of hoping to not be a virgin any more.

She wanted it too. That’s what she said, anyway, and I believe her. She said that she wanted us to ‘be more serious’ and ‘take things to the next level’, and a bunch of other crap that I really thought meant that she wanted to…y’know, make love.


I really think that’s what she wanted. But whenever the opportunity came up, she’d make an excuse. Any excuse. And I don’t mean ‘opportunity’ like ‘oh hey there’s nothing good on Netflix tonight’ or ‘my sister and mother are out of town for a week’.

I mean, like, we rented a hotel. We went for a nice dinner. We did all the things to make it as comfortable and romantic as humanly possible.

When the moment arose, however, she’d freak out, and find a reason to bail.

“I’m on my period.”—sure, fair enough. No one wants their first time to take place on shark week.

“I don’t feel like the time is right.”—well, okay. That would have been nice to know before dropping two hundred bucks on a fancy hotel room.

“I have a headache.” “I think I forgot to take my pill.” “I don’t feel sexy tonight.” “I’m worried about someone hearing.” “My grandmother is getting sick.” “I think my dog is lonely.” “I have to wash my hair.”

Like I said, any possible excuse. Any possible excuse.

I don’t think she was being malicious. Seriously. I think she was just freaked out.

Now, I guess I had a few options. I could have just dropped it, and prepared for a sex-free existence. I could have just dropped her, and found someone who wasn’t going to freak out at the idea of getting jiggy with it.

But…well, I loved her. I really did.

I’m going to emphasize that, because I think it really helps explain a lot of what happened next. I loved her, and wanted to be with her forever: I didn’t want to break up, or cheat…but I definitely didn’t want to jerk myself to sleep every night for the rest of my life.

And I knew that she wanted it. She’d told me, explicitly.

Elsa wanted me, and I wanted her.

So I decided to hypnotize her.

It was something that I’d had a passing interest in for years, ever since I’d found an old book about it in the attic. Before Elsa and I had even met, I’d read through a few chapters, and then mostly forgotten about.

The one thing that I remembered was that you can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do—hypnosis isn’t about brainwashing people into mindless zombies or anything like that. It’s just a way of helping people relax, helping them get in touch with their base desires.

Elsa desired me. I knew she did. She just couldn’t relax enough to get past her own hangups, and do something that we both wanted.

It was the perfect recipe. I mean, that’s literally what hypnosis is for—relaxation, and doing stuff you want to do. It couldn’t have been more ideal.

Now, here’s where it maybe crosses a line: I decided not to tell her about it.

My reasoning was pretty simple; if she was freaked out about having sex, she’d probably be freaked out by anything that led to us having sex. On paper, she might love the idea of hypnosis…but if I’d been honest when I suggested it, I guarantee she’d find some excuse to avoid it.

And so, unethical though it may have been, I told her it was to help her study.

It all started with Elsa. I just wanted to help her get past her own fears, and help our relationship.

But I guess it really started when my sister found me reading the book in the kitchen.

* * *

“Oh cool, hypnosis.”

“Hey Lisa.”

My sister is about three years older than me. It’s a good distance—close enough that we have similar interests, not so close that we were always stepping on each other’s toes. She’s always been decent to me, too—she’s never been the older sibling who was too cool to be seen with her little brother.

How do I describe her? She’s blonde, short…busty. Like, really busty. Like, I’ve had more than half a dozen friends tell me that they’ve jerked off thinking about her tits. Thanks, friends. That’s exactly what I want to hear.

(It’s not.)

I would never tell her this, but I’ve always liked the way Lisa dresses. A lot of colorful sundresses—she used to dye her hair a lot, and she had a different dress to match each hue. Nowadays she’s too busy for that level of hair maintenance, but she still wears a rainbow of sundresses in a week.

“You thinking of becoming a hypnotist? ‘I vant to suck your blood’…?”

“That’s a vampire, Lisa.”

“Oh yeah. ‘Look into my eyes, look very very deeply, I vant to control your mind…”

“Why does he still sound like a vampire?”

“He’s a Transylvanian hypnotist.”

“Elsa says she’s having trouble studying, so I thought some hypnosis might help with that.”

“Oh yeah? She trust you that much, does she?”

“It’s been eighteen months.”

“Wow, really? God, time really flies, doesn’t it. Well, as long as she wakes up with all her blood still in her body…”

“I promise, I’m not a vampire.”

“I’ll believe it when I see you survive a silver bullet.”

I laughed, and went back to my book. If she’d walked away then, that probably would have been the end of it.

But she didn’t.


“What up?”

“Weird question.”

I looked up. Lisa was biting her lip; I hadn’t seen her this nervous since she’d gone for her driving license.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…”

There was a pause, and I sighed.

“Spit it out, sis.”

“Would you hypnotize me?”

I tilted my head to the side. After another pause, she continued.

“I just…I’m having trouble.”


She laughed, and the crinkles in her forehead disappeared.

“Focusing at school. If you think hypnosis would help, I’d love to…”

She trailed off.

I considered her words. She was right—hypnosis probably would help. And it couldn’t hurt to get some practice in before I started with Elsa…especially since I was going to be lying to her about exactly what we were doing. If I was fumbling my way through the manual, it was going to be far riskier than it needed to be.

It made sense. What was the risk?

“Sure thing,” I said, and with those two words, both our fates were sealed.

* * *

I finished reading the book a few days later. It was mostly procedural stuff—the required environment, equipment, the phrasings of the trance. I was relieved to discover that it didn’t require a pocket watch or anything hokey like that—the book recommended having people follow your moving fingers, instead.

After practicing the trance in the mirror a few times, I was confident that I could give it a shot without embarrassing myself. It was pretty interesting stuff—it suggested that the first induction go for half an hour to an hour, with each subsequent session taking less time. The technique took people down through the ‘ten levels of hypnosis’, and the book detailed the signs and symptoms of each. Once the subject was familiar with the path to deep hypnosis, it was possible to get them there quicker and quicker, with the ultimate aim of having a trigger phrase able to bring them straight to level ten.

The book warned that if you ordered someone to do something they didn’t want to do under hypnosis, this would snap them out of it. The more off-putting the suggestion, the harder it would be to hypnotize them again in future—not impossible, of course, but harder.

Elsa had agreed to a session later that week, but to make sure I’d gotten the hang of it, I asked Lisa if she still wanted me to help her study.

“Sure!” she said with a smile, and so the two of us sat down that night to try it out.

It only took about half an hour before I got Lisa all the way to level ten. It would have been faster, but I kept referring to the notes, trying to recognize the physical signs as she slipped deeper and deeper. At level four, her eyes glazed over; at level seven, her head rolled back. By the time she was at level ten, her breathing was incredibly light, and her responses were so soft that I had to move closer just to hear them.

“How do you feel, Lisa?”

“Good,” she slurred—she was so deeply tranced that her muscles were barely able to respond to signals from her brain. Level ten, the book said, was for imparting suggestions directly into the subconscious. The conscious brain would never remember instructions at this level; it was a deeper relaxation than even sleep.

It was amazing to me that I’d managed to bring someone so deeply under hypnosis on my first time. The instructions had said that taking someone to level ten would quite often take three or four sessions.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“If I give you instructions, what are you going to do?”

“Obey,” she said, and I was shocked to find my cock stirring at her response.

There was something strangely erotic about having someone so deeply enthralled…even when it was my sister. She was so compliant, so helpless—I chalked my response up to the fact that I still hadn’t got laid, and tried to picture Elsa in this position instead.

I was immediately rock-hard.

God, I couldn’t wait.

“Here are your instructions,” I said, trying to ignore my erection. “You are going to find it much easier to study.”

“Yes…” she whispered in response.

“You will be able to focus on your schoolwork. You will not be distracted. You are the master of your mind; your mind is not the master of you.”

My cock throbbed slightly at the words “master”.

“Your concentration will be stronger. You will pay better attention in class.”

“Yess…” she whispered, and her entire body twitched. I couldn’t help but stare at her huge breasts as they bounced slightly in response.

“I, uh…”

Her breasts were still quivering slightly in response to her tremor.

“You will crave this state of complete relaxation. If I ever ask to hypnotize you again, you will say yes.”

Honestly, I don’t know why I added that last part. The book recommended that kind of suggestion only if you intended to hypnotize someone again and again, and slowly shape them over time.

I had no such intentions with my sister. I was hypnotizing her once, to get the hang of it, and then I was going to focus on my girlfriend.

That was the plan.

“Yes,” my sister said, and again—the tremor. Her whole body twitched.

It was weirdly hot.

“When I count down from ten, you will awake, feeling strong and refreshed.”


I counted down from ten, and my sister’s eyes sprung open.

“Wow!” she chirped. “Thanks so much, bro—that felt amazing. You can do that again any time, bro.”

She pulled my body against hers for a hug. I accepted her thanks and left the room, trying to forget the feeling of those huge tits pressed against my body.

That night, as I jerked off, I desperately attempted to avoid thinking about my sister.