The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Magic: 1

WARNING This contains graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse and sadomasochistic activities between adult males. If this offends you, is not appropriate for viewing in your location, or you are not of legal age, do not read it. Any resemblance of characters in this story to the living is purely coincidental.

© 2002, TopLegal. Permission is granted for distribution via Usenet and the Web provided that the following two conditions are met: there is no cost to access this story, e.g. AdultCheck, pay site, etc., and the story is posted in full without modifications.

Robber

I reviewed the ancient book closely. The instructions I had translated seemed clear enough. I had tried several of the spells to surprising success in private and now it would be my chance to see how they would work in public.

I heard a rattle at my upstairs window. I remembered the article I had seen in the morning paper about a string of burglaries in the area. I locked the ancient book in my safe and turned off the light.

I tiptoed up from the basement to the ground floor. I looked around the door slowly and saw a dark figure climbing into my kitchen window. I decided to wait until he was fully inside to take further action.

The burglar got all the way in and I noticed he was wielding a weapon in one hand. I decided to try the tickling spell. I pointed my wand and uttered the incantation softly so as not to be heard: “Rictusempra.”

The effect was instantaneous. The burglar began giggling uncontrollably and then fell to the floor. I caught better sight of the weapon: a gun. Another incantation, “Expelliarmus”, and it was floating in midair over the poor robber.

I was still out of sight and the burglar was in fits of laughter but definitely turning tail and running out the window. I had no idea how long the burglar would be tickled for, but figured it did not much matter.

Bar

I picked the floating gun out of the air and unloaded it and dropped it in the trash. I returned to my basement lair and contemplated my next move.

I decided that it would be nice to go out and contemplate uses for my new found book and skills.

I wandered upstairs and stripped in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom. With a simple incantation, “Lumos”, a small glow came from my wand and I examined my body in the light.

I had never thought of myself as “good looking” by gay standards, but as the feel of power rushed to my head I started thinking differently of myself.

I was about 167 cm (5′ 6″) and extremely skinny, only 58 kg (130 lbs). No real muscles to speak of. Usually in the bars I got hit on by large “daddy” types. They figured since I was slender and boyish looking that I just wanted to be a fucktoy.

I looked at my teased 2 cm long blonde hair in the mirror and realized that despite being 28 I still looked barely 18.

My deep blue eyes sparkled back at me with a devilish glimmer.

I put on a skin tight spandex outfit and then after dousing the light, “Nox,” tucked my wand between my wrist and my elbow of my right arm.

It was already midnight and I wanted to pick up someone looking for a taste of the unusual at one of the bars.

I had barely entered the D.C. Eagle when I was accosted by an older top in leather chaps and a harness. I walked past him without acknowledging his advance. An employee stopped me and carded me. After some convincing that I was well over 21 I made my way to the third floor.

A small demonstration was under way from MaST on how to “take care of masters boots”. I feigned interest and took note of the younger boys in the crowd.

Three different older masters approached me. Each was convinced that I just needed to be “fucked” or “collared”. One even had the nerve to fondle my crotch. He was smoking a vile cigarette and softly, barely audibly, ignited it with a simple curse “Incendio”. He dropped the cigarette after nearly setting himself on fire and stomped off.

My prey was a young man who I had seen up here twice before. He would show up at the bar, pick up a single beer and then stand in the corner of the third floor the whole night without speaking to anyone.

Timothy

Then I saw him across the room. He was larger and more muscular than me. As before he entered quietly and took up a post in the corner. I watched some of the leather daddies swarm him. But the pattern repeated he simply averted his eyes down and refused to make eye contact with them.

I had studied this man carefully along with my charm book. I took up a post across the room and began slowly, but methodically blinking my baby blue eyes to the mysterious young man.

From across the room he began to subconsciously mirror my blinking. Then I unplanted him from the corner gradually. Slight eye movements I was making were drawing him closer. One step at a time. By the time he reached me he was well under what ordinary people would call a “hypnotic” state. But in reality it was a magical trance. A close observer might have noticed that I was making slight motions to a ring on my left hand.

“Timothy,” he said as he reached me. I nodded and he stood facing me, silent for some time as I drank him in. He was quite handsome, easily 200 cm tall (6′ 6″) and built like a brick who worked out every day. I figured he had to weigh in over 100 kg (230 lbs). His hair was dark and close cropped, barely 1 cm long and pressed flat against his head. His eyes were dark green.

“Yes, you will do,” I said as I walked out with Timothy following.

Not that Timothy really had a choice. I mean perhaps someone who had spent as much time reading magic books as I had might have been able to concoct a suitable counterspell or countercurse, but Timothy was an ordinary gay white male who was completely unspectacular in all respects.

Timothy stayed respectfully about three steps behind me the entire trip back to my house. I let him in and brought him up to the bedroom.

A few gestures of my ring and he stripped naked and lay down, face up, spreadeagled on my bed. I placed some empty leather gloves over his four limbs, removed my wand and encanted each glove: “Immobilarbus.”

Timothy would not be going anywhere.

I surveyed the situation and decided one more charm: “Quietus” would be in order for Timothy and then left him alone.

With me out of the room the ring’s charm spell would quickly wear off.

Slavery—Magical Hypnotism Style

I lay down in my guest room. Timothy would be waking up and realizing that my bedroom was all mirrored. When he came too he would see himself, naked and pinned down on my bed.

I jerked off at the thought of how much fun Timothy’s initial trainings would be and shot a massive load onto my smooth chest.

I let the cum dry on my chest as I drifted off to sleep.

When light entered my guest room in the morning I could hear indistinct, muffled sounds from my bedroom. I looked down and saw my dried cum on my hairless chest and remembered that Timothy was waiting for me.

I put back on my outfit from the previous night and entered my bedroom.

Timothy had barely managed to move an inch against the bounds of the magically enchanted gloves that were pinning him spread eagled to my bed. His voice was barely audible as well. I smiled over him.

His musculature was amazing. Spread out as he was you could really appreciate the results of his hard work at the gym.

I picked up a potion from my bedside table and poured it down his throat with little resistance. He quickly became rather receptive to answering my questions.

He whispered his vital details to me without hesitation. In two hours his life was an open book to me. His fears, his loves, his darkest desires. All mine.

He was not as unencumbered as I might have hoped though, he held down a steady 9-to-5 job at a department store and had roommates.

However, as I explained to him, his life was going to be changing.

I attached a metal slave collar of the type commonly sold by Mr. S. in San Francisco, http://www.mr-s-leather-fetters.com/. The particular model I chose was manufactured in my home country, Germany. I attached the collar to Timothy who was struggling foolishly. I slid on a small O-ring and then used the pin key to seal the lock.

The struggling stopped quickly. A closer inspection of the collar would have uncovered magical incantations written on the collar. Incantations permanently binding Timothy to my service.

I undid the incantation of the gloves and allowed Timothy freedom to move. He was calm and I unbound his voice. But he did not call out. Gradually he stretched his body and stood up. He then clasped his arms behind his back, bowed his head down at a slight angle and looked at the floor.

My excitement at the success of the whole affair was intoxicating and I quickly found myself erect at the sight of my young slave.

I walked downstairs and noticed that Timothy was nowhere in sight. “Come boy,” I beckoned and saw him come down to the ground floor of my apartment at a steady pace.

Training

There were things to attend to, my job at the University would command a certain level of attention. I had an archeological dig in Egypt coming up as well.

Perhaps I could rent Timothy out I thought smirking.

I asked Timothy politely to make me breakfast and he quickly went to the refrigerator and took out eggs and began cooking. There was a part of me that was disappointed. I had always wanted a hypnoslave and Timothy had confessed his innermost dream was to be made into a piece of property an object.

Timothy served my breakfast and I had him fetch my laptop. I logged onto the IRC network and got on the #gayhypnosis and within a few minutes one of my chat buddies showed up. I shared that I had created a completely malleable hypnoslave in just a few minutes using a “chemical” I had found in Germany.

I gave the guy my phone number and he called. He was full of questions. My German accent at least bought me a measure of credibility. I handed the phone to Timothy and instructed him to answer Master Hypno’s questions truthfully.

I heard only Timothy’s side of the call and after about ten minutes he handed me the phone back. “Impressive,” the voice on the other end said, “he exhibits at least level 60+ hypnosis.”

I thought about encanting another of Mr. S’s collars for the gentleman on the other end, but decided that I needed to see how well my hold on Timothy worked over time.

I needed the changes in Timothy’s life to be gradual. Also if the collar prevented Timothy from interacting with people normally then it would make matters even more difficult.

“Timothy,” I said addressing the boy, “come sit down with me and let’s discuss your future.” Timothy sat down across from me at the table and I closed the cover of my PowerBook. “How are you feeling?”

“Great,” he said with a huge smile.

“What you want to do today?”

He shrugged.

“Go to the gym,” I offered.

He nodded and smiled broadly.

“There are some housekeeping things you’ll need to take care of all by yourself if you want to stay here more often,” I said.

He nodded and seemed to be lost in thought. Now the real test, “You will know where to find me when you are ready to stay here all of the time.”

He stood up, went upstairs, took a shower, got dressed and headed out without even saying goodbye.

Class

Trying to teach class the next week was utter agony. But I had to agree with my fellow hypno-master from IRC. If Timothy was going to be any good as a slave he needed to have a certain level of initiative to bring himself into the conditions that would make his slavery complete and uninterrupted.

My course on “Magical Myths” was always well attended. My stories of archeological expeditions throughout the world were always guaranteed to draw a crowd. Sort of a type of Indiana Jones sort of thing.

I had been teaching the course in Washington for almost two years. I had mostly been self-schooled by my parents traveling from archeological expedition to archeological expedition. When I went off to a University back in Germany at 14 I finished in the top of my class by age 17 and then went back on the circuit with my parents.

I had found the magical books on a dig near Stonehenge in 1992. I had concealed the find of the books from my parents and started studying them full time.

By 1998, my find of a valuable trove of ancient Egyptian tablets at a desert site long thought abandoned had brought me into the “spotlight” of archeological circles. My parents, encouraged me to take up teaching in their place for their posts back in Frankfurt. After two years, I had found my interest in the magical arts growing and ended up winning my own appointment in the United States.

The discussion of the day was on the origins of hex signs. I was explaining their Germanic roots when I noticed a young man standing in the corner of the classroom—Timothy.

My heart leaped and I found it quite hard to focus my attention on helping the class differentiate between different types of hexes.

Class ended and a throng of students wanting me to basically read their tea leaves approached. It took another half-hour to clear the room.

The lone remainder was my young hunk. He was wearing khakis and a muscle-T. His silver collar was quite visible around his neck. The metal of the collar seemed to accentuate his musculature. I commented that he looked well and asked him to walk by my side to my office.

At my office, I shut the door and had him sit down.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Timothy laughed slightly, “nah, I got fired for my attitude Tuesday.”

I nodded approvingly, “roommate?”

“We had a huge fight when I lost my job and agreed that I would move out at month end.”

I smiled and then leaned forward and kissed him. Timothy leaned into the kiss and warmly reciprocated.

“I’m gonna dump most of my stuff,” he said, “and I found a gym closer to your apartment where I can work out daily.”

“Very good,” I commented.

Timothy followed me home and quickly stripped inside the door. He was living out his lifelong fantasy of being a slaveboy.

Housebreaking

Timothy quickly checked out the refrigerator and offered up that he perhaps should get some groceries to make dinner. I nodded approvingly and pulled out some cash from my wallet.

Timothy got dressed again and headed out. I was impressed by his level of initiative but also with the level of subservience he was showing.

Twenty minutes later he returned with several bags of groceries and stored them away. When he finished he announced that he would need to start cooking dinner one hour before I wanted to eat. I nodded and indicated that he should sit down.

Timothy kneeled on the floor in front of me and asked if he might massage my feet. I nodded and he removed my shoes and socks and then began massaging my feet, first with his hands and then with his tongue.

I cooed appreciatively and the massage continued for quite some time.

Over the next few days we quickly fell into a schedule. Rising together at 0500, Timothy would head to his gym for an intensive three hour work out. I would meanwhile head to the basement to study my magical books.

By 0900, I could inevitably be found at my campus office. Timothy would take care of the groceries and then wait for my return.

When I returned each night a sumptuous homemade dinner would be served by him. Timothy was devoting himself to learning to pleasure me. He was taking a massage course and a cooking course as well.

Three weeks into our relationship, Timothy’s subservience to me was complete and yet we still had not had any sex with each other.

DC Eagle II

Back at the DC Eagle exactly thirty days from the first time I had picked him up, Timothy was standing naked save for boots, his collar, and a blindfold. I had checked his raincoat at the door and attached a thin cord to the collar to lead him around.

For the first time in my many trips to the Eagle I found the burly tops giving me a subtle respect. I approached one upstairs on the third floor and asked him if he would be interested in making use of Timothy’s gorgeous, supple body.

Unsurprisingly, he was, but I explained that I was interested in seeing Timothy learn about pain. I needed to know that the master himself could tolerate what “I could dish out.”

I would have to be careful if I did not want to attract undue attention. The master showed me his slave, a handsome middle-aged black boy on whose backside the remnants of several whip marks were still visible. His boy was not hypno or magically trained. I beckoned his boy to me and reached my wand hand against the boy’s crotch and softly spoke “Quietus-Cruciatus”. The boy’s agony was quiet and to most in the bar probably seemed like role play. But the young slave boy was experiencing an unbelievable searing agony in his crotch. I stopped the pain and restored the boy’s speech.

Timothy had blocked the master’s view of exactly what I was doing but had undoubtedly learned the intended lesson that was directed at him: disobedience had consequences.

“Your boy does not seem to be up to snuff,” I remarked dismissively lifting my hand away from the sobbing boy’s groin.

I lead Timothy away leaving the other master to comfort his sorely abused slave. Several other masters had started to pay attention to me. I nodded politely to them. Finally I was the center of attention.

We exited the club and took a cab back to my apartment.

Timothy was bathing himself as I stretched out on my bed. He wanted to have sex so badly and yet I really did not care and after all the one nice thing about a completely non-consensual relationship is that his desires really ultimately did not amount to squat.