The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I really didn’t start out planning things this way. Honestly. Its not like I set out with an intention of turning my husband’s mind into my own personal modeling clay. It just sort of… happened. So, since he really doesn’t seem to mind, and I certainly enjoy it, why should I feel guilty? Stop looking at me like that. Seriously.

Okay, fine. Let me explain how this all started, alright? Hear me out.

My marriage was wonderful, right from the start. We were made for each other. Of course we fought. Sometimes we fought a lot, heatedly, lengthily, but we always worked through it. Sooner or later, we always found a way to talk through the problem so that neither of us felt rejected or unimportant. Sheesh, I make it sound like co-therapy.

There was only one problem, however, which we couldn’t seem to overcome: The Bedroom. I’ve always had a very high libido. I don’t think I even have a threshold. I’ve never reached a point where I didn’t feel keyed up and ready to keep going. There’s no such thing as too much sex for me.

Robert is, well, he’s not quite so driven. He has his baggage and I have mine, but while mine left me with a constant need for more sex, his left him feeling inadequate. If he’s not confident he’s in perfect form, feeling ready to give me the fuck of the century, then he chickens out. He feels like it has to be earth-shattering every single time. He’s always too tired because he just got home from work, too busy because he’s getting ready for work, or he’s just plain not in the mood. All of these issues leave him with no confidence.

I gave up trying a long time ago. I tried everything I could think of. I bought lingerie because he was always hinting about it. But that didn’t seem to do anything for him. I tried initiating intimacy with him, but that made him feel pressured. I tried giving him space, waiting for him to initiate, but he never did. I tried encouraging him to initiate, but again, pressure. I tried talking about it in a conversational way, mentioning things that he’d done in the past that I enjoyed, or talking about hypothetical suggestions we could talk about trying at a future date. These talks were always fun for both of us, but they never led anywhere. It was just talk.

So I stopped trying. It was bothering me too much. I was starting to feel rejected, unwanted and unattractive despite his assurances that it wasn’t because he didn’t want me. The rest of our marriage is amazing. When we did finally have sex it was, let’s be frank, incredible. It’s not the end of the world if I have to wait more than I’d like to between romps in the sack. I love him so much I just can’t contain it. Someday we’ll fix our bedroom issues. I can be patient.

This is what led me to I start focusing more on hobbies. I looked for anything to take my mind off my glands. Hypnosis was a great distraction. I practiced self-hypnosis to relax myself, and also learned about how to hypnotize other people. Since I don’t know anyone else willing to let me practice on them, my husband became my somewhat-willing guinea pig.

I would research methods online, read books and articles, watch videos and listen to audio tracks, then I’d take bits and pieces from all I’d learned, and combine them into an idea I wanted to try.

Each time I had a solidly formed idea for a trance and felt ready to try it out, I’d give him a puppy-dog look and an adorable little ‘pleeeeeease????’ and he’d agree. At first he was resistant, though not deliberately. Like a lot of men, he has a very controlling personality. He has incredible attention to detail and likes to have all of his ‘ducks in a row’, so to speak. He’s not aggressively controlling, really. He’s just, let’s say, slightly obsessive about it. He had a very hard time going under for quite a while. He couldn’t relax enough. He would question or disagree with the suggestions I gave, rather than just allowing himself to listen and react. He always told me after that he felt like he was awake, and that nothing really happened. I tried to explain that hypnosis is not like sleep, and it was normal for him to feel awake, but he was still unconvinced that anything was happening.

I saw it as a challenge. There had to be a way. I knew there was a perfect button to push to get him to relax, and I was determined to find it. I’ll never forget the first time I did.

“You remember I have to be to the office early tomorrow, right?” he was actually grumbling. It was adorable. We were sitting in the bedroom. I was on the bed, he was in the rocking recliner we kept by the window.

“Yes,” I tried to hide my smile, “And if I hadn’t come out to get you, you’d have stayed out there in your shop tinkering until after midnight. Besides, this won’t take long, and you’ll probably sleep better after. Shall we keep debating, or are you ready to shut up?”

He rolled his eyes, but I could see through it. He wasn’t really mad, just giving me a hard time. He liked seeing me so excited about something, and loved that he could do this for me, even if he couldn’t quite relax enough to let it happen yet.

“Are you comfortable?” I asked, no longer teasing. I could feel a shift in my attitude. It was like I was switching roles from ‘pain-in-his-butt wife’ to ‘hypnotist’.

“Not as comfortable as I was last time. Why can’t I lay on the bed while we do this?”

“Because,” I reminded him, “Last time, you fell asleep. Also, this is a better position for hypnosis. Just trust me.”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“Ok, then today I’m going to do something different. In the past, we’ve used a lot of imagery. Today, I’m using sensation. Might not work, but that doesn’t matter. Don’t forget, you can move and shift positions if you need to get comfortable. There’s no rule that says you can’t move or speak. Tell me if something I say feels good, or you don’t understand.”

“You said that before,” he complained.

“I know,” I still spoke calm and quiet, “but there’s a reason why I’m saying it now. I want you to pay particular attention to your breathing right now. Notice all the details you tune out most of the time. Feel your ribs expanding. Feel the temperature of the air when you pull it into your lungs. When you exhale, pay attention to the way your body deflates. Think of it in that way. You’re not exhaling, you’re deflating. Each time you do it, you deflate a little more than the last time. Now, you might start to feel heavy, but don’t worry about it. Whether you feel heavy or not is not important. I don’t want you to try and make anything happen. Just pay attention to your breathing.”

His sarcastic expression and slight hint of irritation were gone. He was watching me speak, his eyes not quite focused. His breathing was very slow and even. Every time he exhaled, it was longer, slower. Could it be working?

“Now, the body’s natural reaction to a breathing pattern like this is to begin to settle into sleep. You might start to feel tired. I want you to just pay attention to your breathing. It doesn’t matter if you feel tired or not. All you need to think about is your breathing. Your eyes might start to blink, they might feel heavy and slow. Just breathe for me. That’s all you need to worry about.”

I almost laughed. It looked like it was working! The moment I mentioned his eyes, they started to blink and droop. His expression had gone slack. I was so excited; I had to work to keep my tone low, even, and soothing.

“Now, as you breathe, I want you to pick a spot on the wall in front of you. Any spot. Keep your eyes there. Watch that spot and make a note of all the details: the shape, the texture, the color. Keep your eyes locked on that spot. Your eyes might be feeling heavy, but I want you to keep them open. Try not to blink. Don’t let your eyes close, no matter how badly you want to.”

He was really struggling, fighting to keep his eyes open. I wanted to do a touchdown dance. But, of course, I didn’t. I would save that for later, after he went to bed. Five minutes later, he was completely limp in his recliner, head lolling to the side, breaths coming in slow, deep, even sighs. To test whether or not he was actually under hypnosis, or just sleeping, I decided to try a suggestion.

“Now, let’s go back to your breathing. I want you to pretend the air you are breathing is helium. You’ll still be able to breathe just fine. In fact, it might even feel easier to breathe, since helium is lighter than air. The more you breathe in this helium, the more of it you have pumping through your body. It will start to make you feel dizzy, giddy, and maybe even tingly.”

A slight smile appeared on his lips and he started breathing deeper, deliberately pulling the air in as if he wanted more.

“The more you breathe it in, the lighter you will begin to feel. Your body will begin to lose the heavy weight you’ve been carrying around. You’ll feel light, weightless. It will be a wonderful, incredible feeling. You’ll likely feel it first in your arms. Your arms will feel so light, they might even begin to drift upward, floating on the air. The more you breathe in, enjoying that dizzy, wonderful feeling, the lighter your arms will begin to feel.”

His arms were actually floating. First his hands, pulling up from the wrists, then his forearms pulling up at the elbow. Finally, both arms were floating, as if they were inanimate objects attached to his body at the shoulder. They floated like balloons. He didn’t seem to notice or care, which gave me an idea. I wanted him to see what has happening to it and watch his reaction. Perhaps I could even suggest what reaction he should have? I resumed speaking.

“Now, in a moment, I’m going to ask you to open your eyes. You will find it to be easy to do this. Your eyes will open easily and automatically. Having them open will feel even more relaxing to you. You will not feel distracted at all. Now, at the count of three, I want you to open your eyes. One, two… three.” I snapped my fingers firmly.

He opened his eyes and stared blankly, showing no interest at all in his surroundings. His eyes found my face and simply stared.

“Good, now I want you to notice your arms. Notice what they are doing. You’ll find that this sight will amuse you. You know there’s no reason for your arms to be doing that, and it will be more and more hilarious to you that they are doing it.”

He started to chuckle, watching his arms float. He looked fully awake now, but I knew he was still under. He had to be, or his arms wouldn’t keep floating.

“You will find that the laughter you feel is impossible to stop. It’s so funny you just can’t contain yourself. You will laugh harder and harder because it’s so funny.”

I almost thought he might roll out of his chair, he was laughing so hard.

“Blow on your hand, and watch it bob like a balloon.”

He did, and laughed even harder. He kept doing that, blowing on one hand then the other, roaring with laughter when it bobbed in the air.

“Now, when I count to three, your body will return to its normal weight. Your arms will drop to your lap, and you will feel yourself drop ten times deeper into relaxation. Starting now, with one… two… three.”

I snapped my fingers again and his arms dropped to his lap like rocks. His neck went limp and his head dropped back to settle against the chair, then flopped onto his shoulder.

“Very good. Now, I want you to—“My thighs clenched. I paused, completely distracted from what I’d been about to say. This was unexpected. Let me explain why this mattered.

In the months previous to this, I’d developed a subconscious reaction to sexual arousal. Because I was aroused so often, and he was so rarely receptive, I had developed a tendency to hide it from him. I didn’t want him to feel pressured to perform all the time. Lately, the first sign that I was horny was my thighs clenching together. Sure enough, I felt that automatic clenching starting.

I was confused at first, then realized with a jolt what it meant. I was aroused by this. Hypnosis. I was feeling wetness and a wonderful throbbing, because I was hypnotizing my husband. The hobby I had turned to as a distraction from sex had become a fetish. Just great. Lovely. I was not pleased, at first. Couldn’t I escape sex for even a moment? Then a thought came to me, and I went with it, without pausing to consider. In hindsight, this was probably not the best move.

I resumed speaking. “Now, I want you to just listen to my voice. Let my words echo in your mind, and guide you deeper and deeper. Let go of all of your worries and tension. For now, you don’t have to worry about anything. I want you to remember something for me. From now on, every time you see me touch my face, you’ll find it an incredibly arousing sight. Whenever I scratch my cheek, run my fingers through my hair, touch my fingers to my lips, or anything like that, you will find yourself aroused by that. You won’t understand why it turns you on, and it won’t really matter that you don’t understand. The only thing you will know is that it turns you on. When you see me touch my face or hair, you will find yourself with a growing desire to fuck me in any way you want. You’ll want to have me. You’ll need to take me. You’ll crave the taste of my body.” I stopped myself, hitting the brakes before I could go too far down that particular tangent.

He grunted and shifted his hips as he listened, which attracted my attention to his pelvis. The bulge in his pants told me he was aroused by the mere suggestion. He was hard—very hard, by the look of that bulge. I was distracted for a moment, enjoying the sight. He was still wearing his jeans, however, so I couldn’t see much more than a bulge.

“Now, I want you to answer a question for me. When I ask this question, you will immediately answer it with complete honesty, without giving it any thought first. Are you ready?” he nodded, “How are you feeling right now?”

“Horny as fuck,” he answered. There was no inflection to the words. It was a pure statement of fact.

I almost moaned. I could hardly hold still where I sat on the bed, watching his dick swell. My pussy was throbbing and wet, screaming for attention. I tried, and failed, to ignore it.

“I want you to stand up,” I said, and he did, “And now, remove your shoes.”

He kicked out of his shoes, and left them, unheeded, on the floor. He just stood there, eyes closed, breathing slightly faster than normal.

“And now, your shirt. Take it off.”

Again, he did it without question, showing no reaction at all. The shift fell to the carpet and was promptly forgotten.

“And your pants.”

The pants came off and his boxers sprang outward, like a tent as his arousal was freed from confinement. He was fully erect. I could do nothing but stare for a long moment.

My voice was hoarse when I spoke again, “The boxers. Take them off.”

He did, and oh boy, was I ever enjoying this. The only thing missing was that look in his eyes that he always got before we had sex. That ‘I want to fuck you so bad it hurts’ look.

“When I count to three, you will become awake and alert. You will remember that I called you in from your workshop and suggested you go to bed. You will believe that we have been in here talking, and that you are in the process of getting ready for bed. You will become aware of your arousal, and find yourself unable to ignore it.” I gave him no further suggestion as to what he would do about his arousal because I wanted to see what he would do. The curiosity of it made the throbbing I was enduring almost painful. I realized one hand had slid under my cotton pants, inside my panties, and pulled it out again. Not yet. The fingers of that hand were very moist.

“At the count of three, you’ll become completely awake, alert, and in control. One: feel yourself become aware of the room around you. Two: let yourself resume control of your actions. Three: wide awake and alert.”

He took in a deep breath, blinked a few times, then looked around. At first, he acted normal, as if it was any other night. He stooped to pick up the clothing he’d dropped, then rose, and looked at me. He paused, taking in my appearance. It was then I realized I must have been flushed, looking as randy as I felt. I deliberately ran my fingers through my hair, acting as if there was nothing different about this evening. He froze, eyes glued to my hand, watching the fingers thread through my hair.

“Baby,” he said, his voice deeper than normal, “You look fucking fantastic tonight.”

I couldn’t help but smile. This was looking promising. “Well that’s something I never get tired of hearing.” I did it again, running one hand through my hair, slower this time.

He grunted as if I’d stroked his still rock-solid, erect penis. One hand moved to grip it, and he didn’t seem to notice his thumb flicking the rim of his head. After a pause, he came at me, pouncing on me with a passionate kiss, pushing me back until I was lying on the bed with him straddling me, pinning me down. When he broke from the kiss, he blinked in slight confusion, then shrugged it off, and kissed me again. It was a deep, hard kiss. It was kiss fueled by mindless, animal need that I hadn’t experienced in years. This was a very different Robert.

My hands roamed up and down his back, cupping his ass, scraping my nails with just a bit more aggression than I intended, across the contours of muscle down his back. His hands began roughly pulling at my cloths. He always started with the top instead of jumping right for my panties. This time was no different despite his desperate need. The shirt came off easily enough, but he actually ripped the bra, which was a complicated device he’d never learned to operate. He gripped one of my breasts in a firm, rough grip, and lowered his head to bite the nipple of the other. My back arched, sending a moan up my throat. He growled at this, driven on by the sound to resume removing my clothing. The pants, he had no patience for. He stood, gripped the material around my ankles, and yanked, stripping me in a second. Lastly, my panties, which he took his time with. His eyes met mine as he slid them down my legs.

His hands took my knees, one in each iron grip, and shoved them up to my chest, parting them to allow unhindered access to my sex, which glistened in the lamp light, throbbing desperately for him. His eyes burned with need as he lowered himself over me, licking his tongue between the lips. This shocked me and I cried out with pleasure. He wasn’t unwilling to do this for me, but it was a very rare thing. My fingers threaded through his hair, guiding him where I wanted him. He licked, nipped, and sucked at me for what felt like a very long time. I came quickly, then rose with a deliciously slow pace to come once more before he finished.

When he was satisfied I’d received enough attention, it was his turn. There was no Robert left in his eyes. All I saw there was need. Lots of it. Still gripping my thighs in his iron fingers, he yanked me onto my side, then seized my hips and lifted me up onto my knees. One hand pressed to my shoulder, shoving my face into the bedding as the other spread my cheeks. Without bothering to lubricate himself or linger on the moment, he shoved inside me with a grunt. He immediately began pounding me hard and fast.

My intense moans became cries, which were muffled by the bedding. It was glorious. It was potent. It went on, and on. He fucked me hard, and kept at it. When he came it was sudden and powerful. He grunted and moaned, shoving himself to the hilt, deep inside me. I felt the rush of his release inside me, filling me, and he leaned heavily against me. He panted spasmodically a few times as he leaned against me. Slowly, his erection faded and he flopped onto the bed beside me, spent. For several minutes I couldn’t speak or move. I managed to roll over and lay my head on his shoulder. He managed to wrap his arm around me.

We both panted, catching our breath. Finally, he spoke in a sleepy, satisfied tone.

“I have no idea what came over me.” He didn’t seem apologetic about it. In fact, I think I heard more amazement than anything else in his voice.

“Well whatever it was, we’ll have to get it to come over you more often.”

He chuckled and rolled his head to look at me. “I knew you’d say something like that.” A brief pause, then, “I’m sorry we didn’t get to your hypno-thing. I know you wanted to give it a shot tonight. Time just got away from me. We can try again tomorrow.”

He honestly had no idea, no memory of having been hypnotized. I smiled blissfully as I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the possibilities that lay ahead of us.