The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Yvonne came out of her bedroom rubbing her eyes to kiss her mother good-bye.

“So what are your plans today?” Monique asked, after receiving her kiss.

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought I might take the subway down to SoHo, hang out, buy some comics. The usual summer vacation stuff.” Yvonne yawned, and stretched. The sweatshirt she slept in pulled up above her bellybutton. “Nothing planned.”

“Amuse-toi bien,” Monique said. She sighed. “I have a five o’clock meeting, so I won’t be home until late. Maybe eight or nine. You’re on your own for dinner.”

“Okay,” Yvonne said. “Have a good day. Je t’aime.”

“Moi aussi,” Monique replied, slipping out the door. She locked it behind her and headed down the stairs.

Yvonne didn’t go back to bed. She couldn’t, she was too wound up. She flipped on the television, but there was nothing on. Even MTV couldn’t hold her attention for the length of a video.

It was so long until ten o’clock, when Dr. Glass would arrive.

She showered, and dressed, but that only took fifteen minutes. But then, was she wearing the right thing? Normally Yvonne didn’t think much about her wardrobe, wearing whatever was comfortable—because she never bought anything that wasn’t stylish—but today she did, because she wanted to impress Dr. Glass favorably. After all, this was a woman she might be babbling out all her secrets to.

Was she really gay?

Yvonne was pretty sure she was. But then, she had had that crush on Henri, and if he’d asked she would definitely have gone out with him. But when she masturbated, it was Liv Tyler...

Of course, there was a third possibility. She might be bisexual. But what did that mean, anyway? Was she just indecisive?

She paced the house, as the hands of the clock dragged themselves around. Twice she decided that what she was wearing was stupid, and changed clothes again. Once she almost called Moira to call the whole thing off.

Finally, it was quarter to ten; fifteen minutes wasn’t too early to show up, was it?

Yvonne crept upstairs, heart pattering, and rang the doorbell.

Moira opened it immediately. “Hi, Yvonne. You’re early.”

Yvonne swallowed. Moira was in a dress skirt and a suit jacket. “I’m sorry. Should I come back?”

Moira laughed. “No, not at all. Come in.”

“Okay, uh...” Yvonne stepped inside. “Is she here?”

“She certainly is,” a new voice said from a side hall. “Although she wasn’t expecting you for another fifteen minutes.”

Yvonne turned, and was surprised. She’d been expecting... well, someone intimidating, a solemn figure who would ask pointed questions and make understanding noises, sitting in a chair while Yvonne reclined on a couch.

Not the short smiling woman standing in the hallway. Her dishwater blond hair was in a short feathered bob, her eyes were a highly nondescript muddy hazel, and her wide cheeks framed an infectious smile. She looked comfortable in jeans and a light blouse.

“I’m Leslie Glass,” she said, holding out a hand. “You must be Yvonne. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh, hi. Dr. Glass.”

“Call me Leslie, please. May I call you Yvonne?”

“Sure thing.”

Dr. Glass—Leslie—smiled a bit wider. “So. Moira was rather unspecific about why you wanted to talk with me. Said that it wasn’t her place to tell me, which was a little frustrating, but I trust Moira’s judgment. Don’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Yvonne said. “I trust Moira a lot.”

“Well, she’s certainly kept your secret. Now, before we start really talking, should I send Moira out? This can be just between you and me, if you like.”

“No, I trust Moira,” Yvonne said.

“That’s sweet,” Moira replied, and she and Leslie shared a smile. “But I actually have to go to work. Do you really need me here, Yvonne?”

Yvonne licked her lips. “I guess not.”

Moira smiled at her. “Then I’ll head in to work—Leslie, just lock up when you leave, okay?”

“Will do.”

Moira turned her smile to Yvonne. “Go easy on the doctor, okay? She’s a friend.”

Yvonne forced a smile as Moira picked up a valise that had been sitting next to the door, and stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

“Okay then,” Dr. Glass said, watching the door close. “Why don’t we go sit down?”

The doctor took one of the chairs, motioning Yvonne to the sofa. “Well,” she said.

Yvonne just looked at her.

“How about if we start by talking about me,” Leslie said. “My name’s Leslie. I was born in Brooklyn, went to undergraduate at Yale, and got my doctorate from Columbia nine years ago. I live on the East Side, near the park, in a fantastic co-op, and I consider myself a vegetarian, although I do eat fish. I have no fear of heights at all, but I don’t like spiders and I hate snakes.”

Yvonne giggled.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?”

“No,” she said, “Its just that I was expecting all these questions, and here you are telling me your life story.”

Leslie smiled. “Oh, I’ll be asking you questions, have no doubt. But you don’t have to answer any of them, if you don’t want to. And I feel that it’s only fair that if I get to know you, you get to know me.”

Yvonne smiled at her. There was just something so... plainspoken about Leslie, she was easy to like. She could see why she and Moira were friends.

“So,” Leslie said, “In my day job I’m a licensed psychotherapist; I work with people suffering from chemical addictions, general depression, and more recently I’ve been doing a lot of work helping people with sexual dysfunctions.” She waved a hand. “Now, I’m going to take a stab in the dark and say that you don’t have a chemical addiction. True?”

Yvonne nodded.

“Are you depressed?”

“Uh, no, not really. Not like that.”

“Well, you’re awfully young to have a sexual dysfunction, although I have patients as young as fifteen. So, since I can’t guess, why don’t you tell me why you’ve asked to see me.”

“Um. Well, I... I was wondering how people know if they’re gay.”

Leslie didn’t laugh, she just nodded seriously. “Okay, that’s a valid question. Mostly, people notice that they are physically attracted to one or the other gender. For most people it’s never really a question—they start feeling sexual attraction in their teens and they know. But it also can take a while to find out, particularly since society is geared towards heterosexuality. I’ve known a few wonderful gay men who only realized that they were gay in their twenties, after a string of heterosexual relationships, and the same can go for women.”

Yvonne waited for her to ask the next question, to ask why Yvonne wanted to know.

“So, is that all you wanted?” Leslie asked.

“Um. Well, uh... I was wondering, if there was a way to find out if, uh, a person was gay.”

Leslie shrugged. “Run a succession of naked people past them, I suppose. Hot naked people, mind you. I’m sure that Peter Falk is a nice man, but I’m thinking more along the lines of Jude Law.”

“Who’s Peter Falk?”

“The actor who plays Columbo.”

“Columbo?”

Leslie sighed theatrically. “I can see I’m going to have to get younger jokes. Look, Yvonne, I’m just saying that heterosexuality or homosexuality are just ways of describing the sorts of people that one is attracted to.”

“What if one was attracted to, um, both sorts of people?”

“Well, there’s always bisexuality. And to be honest, heterosexuality and homosexuality aren’t always so tightly circumscribed—there are people who never considered love with a member of their own gender until they met a specific someone.”

“So there’s no way to tell?”

Leslie shrugged. “Look, I tell you what. I’ll bring my special sexual orientation determining kit with me next time, and I’ll let you have a look at it. Let you get an idea of how it works.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah. I have to get going, Yvonne. I have a paying client in my office in forty minutes, and I should be there for her. This was really sort of a meet-n-greet, but I’d be happy to come back.”

“Oh, uh, okay. When?”

Her eyes rolled up and to the side as she thought. “Let’s see,” she said, “I’m busy tomorrow. How about Wednesday?”

“Okay.” Yvonne nodded.

“Shall I bring my kit?”

Yvonne nodded again.

“Great.” Leslie turned her smile back on, and stood up. “It was great to meet you, Yvonne. Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom—why don’t you go ahead and let yourself out, and I’ll see you here on Wednesday? Ten o’clock still work?”

“Sure,” Yvonne said.

“Here’s my card, if you need to call me or check my references or anything.” Leslie handed it over, then winked. “Gotta run.”

She headed for the back hallway. Yvonne watched her go, then made her way out of the apartment.

“Oh,” Leslie called, as she was closing the door, “and watch some television! I expect you to know about Columbo next time!”

The apartment was empty when Thrall J returned. It read the note that had been left for it, then took the transmitter control from its storage place near the entertainment center.

It typed. “I trust Doctor Glass. I trust Doctor Glass a lot. I trust Doctor Glass absolutely.” And, strangely, “I absolutely must know my sexual orientation.”

The thrall did not wonder about that one. Thralls only obeyed.

It hit ‘send’.

As Yvonne lowered herself into the sofa, Leslie pulled out a briefcase from under the coffee table and set it squarely on top.

“Are you ready to see my super high-tech all-new sexual orientation determinator?” she asked.

“Sure thing,” Yvonne said, grinning back.

Leslie popped the locks, and flipped it open.

“Right,” she said, pulling out a manila folder and extending it towards Yvonne, “Here it is. Go ahead and open that up.”

Yvonne flipped open the folder and did a double-take. It was full of cut-out pictures from magazines.

Pornographic magazines.

The picture on top was of a well-built man, wearing a yellow fireman’s coat and nothing else. In one hand he was holding his erect penis, and it had to be ten inches if it was a centimeter. Yvonne blushed.

“What the test taker does,” Leslie said, seemingly unaware of Yvonne’s embarrassment, “is to rate the photos in terms of sexual interest. In other words, who they’d be interested in being able to play with, physically. Shagability. They make four piles—a ‘not interested’ pile, and then three piles ranging from ‘sure it might be fun’ to ‘I’d really really like to get my hands on that!’”

Yvonne looked up at her. Leslie was staring at her, and her strange blue-brown eyes suddenly seemed a lot more magical.

“Would you like to try it, Yvonne?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes,” Yvonne replied.

Leslie smiled broadly. “Great! So, what do you think of Roger, there?”

“Roger?”

“Yes, the guy on top. Roger. Would you like to touch him? Or not?”

“Uh... sort of?”

“Great. Put Roger on the ‘sort of’ pile. Now, what do you think of Debra?”

Half an hour later, the folder was empty.

Leslie smiled at Yvonne, and reached for the ‘most wanted’ pile. “Well. Looks like about... twenty women, and six or so men. I have to say, you picked the good ones.”

Yvonne blinked. “I did?”

Leslie grinned. “My favorites, at any rate. Well, the men. I’m straight, by the way.” She pulled a picture out to examine. “Mmm, George. Look at that stomach. And so nicely manscaped.”

“Manscaped?”

“Shaved, artistically. You don’t think his chest hair looks like that naturally do you?” She sighed dramatically. “Oh, Yvonne, you have so much to learn.”

“So, um... what does the test say?” Yvonne asked. “About me?”

“So? What do you think? You picked them. If I magicked George here into the room right now, and swore that he was free of diseases and was shooting blanks, would you want to have sex with him?”

“Uh... yeah, I guess.”

“And how about Trina?” she asked, holding up another picture.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“Then I feel fairly confident in saying that you’re pretty close to bisexual. You’re leaning towards women right now, but that could be because of any of a number of things. Yvonne, have you ever had sex with a woman?”

“N-no.”

“How about with a man?”

“Um. Once.”

“It’s okay, Yvonne, I’m not going to tell anyone. So you’ve tried boys.” She shrugged. “Then it’s only natural that, if you are bisexual, you’d become more interested in girls now. After all, you haven’t been with one. You’re wondering if it’s better.”

Yvonne bit her lip. “But, doctor, what does it mean?”

“What does it mean?” Leslie shrugged again. “Yvonne, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s your personal preference, although that word is a bit inaccurate when describing sexual orientation. But it’s really no more meaningful than liking both Indian food and Chinese food.” She tilted her head a little. “Does it bother you that you like women?”

“Uh... sort of?”

Leslie sighed, and leaned back into the chair. “Yvonne... I’m just here because a friend asked me to help you with a question you had. I’m not going to tell you what you should believe. If you aren’t comfortable with homosexuality... well, for that sort of work I charge one hundred and ninety-five dollars an hour. In my opinion, and I stress that this is just my opinion, there is nothing wrong with any sort of consensual sexual relationship. So if you want to sleep with boys or girls or both at the same time, that’s perfectly normal. Being bisexual is just another way that people are designed. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“But... but what do I do?”

Leslie smiled. “Yvonne, you do whatever you want. If you aren’t comfortable dating girls, date boys. If you aren’t comfortable dating boys, date girls. If you’re comfortable with either, date either. If you aren’t comfortable with the idea that you want to date both, then you ask your mother to make an appointment for you with me.”

Yvonne looked out the window. Someone in the building across the alley was at their kitchen sink, washing their hands. They moved away.

“Leslie, I... are you sure?”

“I’m fairly sure, but not completely. It’s quite possible that you didn’t choose honestly—not that you were lying to me, but you could be lying to yourself for some reason. I don’t think you are. But it’s possible.”

“Then what good was all this?” Yvonne demanded angrily. “I could still be...”

“Be what?”

“I could still... could still... still not know,” Yvonne finished lamely. “Leslie, I want to know.”

“No,” Leslie sighed, “No, you don’t. You want to know a particular answer, and not another. What is it, Yvonne? Does being even sort-of gay bother you that much?”

“I just... I just want to know, that’s all.”

“Right. Well, then, there’s another thing we could try.”

“What?”

“Hypnosis.”

“You know hypnosis?”

“I’m a licensed therapist, Yvonne. Hypnosis is a good tool to help get to the root of people’s difficulties.”

“And you could... hypnotize me, and find out for sure?”

“I think so. I mean, I think I could hypnotize you, and if I did, I could definitely find out for sure.”

“Um.”

Leslie looked at her watch. “Well, in any case, we don’t have time for anything more now. Look, Yvonne—we’ve discussed some heavy stuff today. Why don’t you think about it, and consider my offer, and I’ll drop back by on Friday. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Great.” Leslie stood up, stretched. “I’ll walk you back downstairs.”

The manila envelope went back into the briefcase, and they walked to the door. Leslie locked it behind them.

“How do you know Moira?” Yvonne asked.

Leslie laughed. “You want to know if she’s one of my patients, don’t you?”

Yvonne looked sheepish. “Maybe.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but she’s not. We used to live in the same building, that’s all.” They stopped at Yvonne’s door. “Okay, I’ll see you on Friday. If you don’t want to go any further, that’s one hundred percent okay.”

“Okay.”

Leslie beamed at her. “You’re a good kid, Yvonne. See you on Friday.”

Thrall J entered the messages.

“I want to be hypnotized. I must be hypnotized. I have to be hypnotized. Hypnosis is the only solution.”

It smiled, just a little, to itself.

It hit ‘send’.

It was raining on Friday, the wet clattering sound from beyond the windows filling Moira’s apartment. Yvonne stared intently across the glass-topped table.

“I want you to do it.”

Leslie gave her a look. “You seem remarkably eager, Yvonne. What’s with the sudden change?”

“I’ve been reading about hypnosis. I mean, after you brought it up. And I want it.”

“I see.” Leslie looked out the window. “That makes me of two minds about this. I’m a little worried about your expectations. If I’m unable to hypnotize you, you might be disappointed.”

Yvonne bit her lip. “Please?”

Leslie stared at her—her eyes were blue and brown together, browner in the light from the windows than they had been in the hallway. They were magical again.

She nodded. “Very well.” From her briefcase, she took out a pen. “This is a light pen,” she said as she took out a black plastic object, “and this is its stand.” With a click, she turned it on—the light blinked on, but it didn’t remain steady; it oscillated brighter and dimmer, pulsing slowly.

“Now, just sit there and be comfortable, and look at the very tip of the pen.”

The light pulsed, and Yvonne looked into it and tried to relax.

Thrall P kept speaking to her.

“Relax, Yvonne. Relax. Breathe in, and out. In, and out. Very slow, very calm. You are feeling relaxed, and placid, and sleepy, only the light has captured your eyes, and you cannot look away from it. Just look into it, deeper into it, deeper, and feel it taking you away, carrying you down into sleep, sleep with your eyes wide open.”

The thrall could see the thoughts forming in Yvonne’s head, a twitch of an eyebrow or a wrinkling of her forehead. But the light already had her, she had given herself to it, and her thoughts were slowing now, dissolving and not being replaced.

“Sleepy, very sleepy, and calm, and relaxed, and the light is pulling you in, deeper and deeper, and you are simply following the light away, deeper and deeper, and your mind is sleeping and sleeping and all you know are my words, my words and the light that you are in, that you have been pulled into and you did not resist and could not resist and you have flowed into the light, stared into it and fallen into it and fallen deeply, deeply asleep.”

Yvonne’s eyelids were drifting lower, but her heavy-lidded gaze was still fixed on the light, pulsing slowly now as it decelerated her mind.

The thrall kept speaking to her, its voice calm and even, guiding her down into trance. As it did so, it reached into a pocket and pushed the button that summoned Thrall J.

“Deeper, and slower,” it said. “Deeper, and slower, and now you are hypnotized. The light has pulled you in and washed over you, and now you are in trance, hypnotized, your mind calm and asleep. The light owns you, owns your eyes, owns your mind, but it has relaxed your voice, Yvonne, loosened the leash and let it speak. Tell me, Yvonne, are you relaxed and asleep?”

“Yes,” Yvonne breathed.

Behind Yvonne, Thrall J walked into the room, stopping a few feet away.

“Are you hypnotized, Yvonne?” Thrall P asked.

“Yes... hypnotized,” Yvonne replied. Her eyes never left the slow pulsing of the light.

“Yes, you are. Very deeply hypnotized. But now you find yourself sinking deeper, moving deeper into the light, and you are losing touch with anything but the light, the light and my voice. Tell me, Yvonne, are you moving deeper?”

“Yes... deeper...”

“Then tell yourself so. Deeper. Hypnotized. Deeper. Hypnotized. Say it with me, Yvonne.”

“Deeper... hypnotized... deeper...”

Thrall P chanted softly with Yvonne for a moment, then stopped and let her continue on her own, in perfect cadence to the slow pulsing of the light.

It faced Thrall J and motioned to the next room. The other thrall turned and went there, and Thrall P stood up and followed, leaving Yvonne whispering to herself.

Thrall J was in the office, waiting.

“She is hypnotized,” Thrall P said. “How is she to be programmed?”

“She is not the primary target; what is needed is to create an excuse for her and her mother to be missing for several weeks while they are enThralled. To that end, she should be programmed to desire a vacation, and to desire it at a controlled location where the nonappearance of the acquisitions can be covered for.”

“Is the girl to be acquired as well?”

“Yes.”

“Then this thrall should begin primary programming. The girl will become obedient to this thrall; once she is obedient she will then act as instructed until she and her mother have both been acquired. Once she is obedient, she will act complicitly with us to arrange this vacation. And the girl’s programming will allow for a swifter permanent enThrallment.”

Thrall J considered the other thrall’s suggestion.

“Perfect,” it said.

Yvonne blinked, realized she was blinking, and looked around.

She felt good. Relaxed, but awake. She saw Dr. Glass sitting in the seat across from her, and smiled.

“Hi, doctor. Was I out long?”

Dr. Glass smiled. “A while. Tell me, how do you feel?”

Yvonne thought a moment, then smiled. “I feel good. Mellow. What did you do?”

“I just talked with you. You’ve got some interesting tensions, Yvonne.”

“I do?”

“Sure. But nothing to worry about, really. I’ve got some good news for you.”

“News?”

“Yeah. I think I found out the answer to your sexual identity question.”

Yvonne sat up. “Oh yeah! I had almost forgot. Um... what is it?”

“You were right, I think. You’re a lesbian, only you don’t think you should be, because your father is so homophobic. So you try to convince yourself you still like guys. But you don’t.”

Yvonne stared at her. It was like having a jigsaw puzzle, tossed into the air, came down all in order and fit together. It made such perfect sense.

“Oh my God. You’re right.” She shook her head. “That makes so much sense.”

Dr. Glass smiled. “Well, from what I learned, I don’t think your father is all that much of a homophobe, just the sort of knee-jerk bigot so common in his generation. But I think there’s more there that we need to discuss.”

Yvonne looked around the room, and found the clock. “Oh my God, it’s almost four!” She looked back at Dr. Glass. “Didn’t you have an appointment?” Dr. Glass shook her head, her eyes never leaving Yvonne.

“Six hours...” Yvonne exhaled. “But... my mom won’t be home until eight. Do you... could you do it again?”

“Do what again?”

“Hypnotize me.”

Dr. Glass laughed lightly. “You liked it that much, did you? Even when you can’t remember any of it?”

“I remember some of it,” Yvonne said with a pout.

Dr. Glass smiled. “I’m sure you do. But I have other patients to see, Yvonne. Paying patients.”

Yvonne’s face fell.

“Oh, don’t be like that. Look, I can come back on Monday.”

Yvonne exhaled ecstatically. “That would be wonderful.”

“Great! But... I can’t pay you.”

“That’s okay. I can do a little pro bono work on the side. Besides, I like coming to see Moira.”

“I thought you were straight.”

Dr. Glass laughed. “I am,” she said. “Moira is a friend. You know, you can have friends without wanting to sleep with them.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“Tell who what?”

“Tell Moira. That I’m gay.”

“Do you mind if I do?”

Yvonne licked her lips. Did she?

She gave Dr. Glass a sly smile and a shrug.

Dr. Glass snorted. “Well, maybe. I don’t know that it’s her business.” She stood. “Now, I must be going. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Yvonne stood, too. “Oh, thank you, Dr. Glass. Thank you so much. I feel so much better.”

“Well,” Dr. Glass said, smiling, “I’m very glad of that. Now, don’t go running off to a gay bar or something. This is something that I think you should let lie for a while, become more comfortable with.” She stood up. “And now, I have to get to the office.”

Yvonne babbled at her as they left the apartment, Dr. Glass locking the door behind them. They walked down the stairs together, Yvonne stopping at her mother’s apartment. She waved goodbye from the door, watching the doctor descend the stairs until she passed out of sight.

Then she went inside, tearing off her pants.

God she was horny. She had almost wanted to propose something to Doctor Glass, but of course although the doctor was sooo pretty she was het.

But perhaps... perhaps there was some way to interest her.

Yvonne found herself thinking she’d be willing to do rather a lot, to interest Dr. Glass. Interest her in her tight little body. Her tight little snatch.

The naughty thoughts brought a twist to Yvonne’s smile, and hurried her into her bedroom.

“Is she actually a lesbian?” Thrall J asked.

“No,” Thrall P replied. “She is almost certainly bisexual. However, that is irrelevant. This thrall is converting her into a lesbian, the better for it to control her.”

Thrall J nodded, and fetched the transmitter from its hiding place. “What messages shall she be programmed with?”

Thrall P stared into space, thinking. Finally, its lips moved.

“I love being hypnotized. I want to be hypnotized all the time. I should be hypnotized. I need to be hypnotized.”

It paused; the only sound was the soft click of the keys as Thrall J typed in the instructions. Then it spoke again.

“I love Doctor Glass.”