The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Not Listening”

“Take off your shirt,” he says, but she’s not listening. She knows that the best way to avoid being hypnotized is to simply block out his words, so she focuses all her attention on a spot on the wall and resolutely ignores him. She stares intently at the little black dot, just one in a sea of many on the patterned wallpaper, and resolves to not think about anything he says.

“Take off your bra,” he says, but she’s not paying any attention. She refuses to pay attention. No matter how much he wants to play this silly hypnosis game of his again, she’s just going to shut out his voice, stare at the wall, and unbutton her shirt. She’s not even going to give him the satisfaction of a refusal. The good old silent treatment, that’s what will get him out of her hair. She’ll just sit here on the couch, pull off her blouse and throw it to the ground, and act like he’s not even there.

“Play with your nipples,” he says, but she’s already pushed the words right out of her conscious mind. She imagines a whiteboard in her head, and every time he writes something on it she moves in just as quick as a bird and wipes it all away, leaving her mind smooth, blank and empty. She won’t even remember the stupid ‘commands’ he keeps giving her. She’s just going to focus her attention on the wall, tighter and tighter on that one spot until it’s all she thinks about. She has a moment’s difficulty when the clasp on her bra distracts her, but then she manages to get it unhooked and even that little irritation goes away. She’s perfectly calm now. She’s perfectly relaxed and concentrating steadily on her point of focus. She’s not thinking about his voice at all anymore.

“Spread your legs,” he says, but she refuses to pay him any mind. As far as she’s concerned, she’s all alone in the room. She imagines his frustration as she sits there, resolutely staring at nothing, teasing him by playing with her bare breasts and stiff, plump nipples. Not responding to a word he says. Not even looking at him. It’s got to be driving him crazy by now. She knows he has to be getting incredibly turned on. She wonders briefly for a moment if he’s admitted it, but that would mean listening to him and she’s not going to do that. She knows how vulnerable that would make her.

“Hike up your skirt,” he says, but she just keeps shutting it out. She has to. He’s a very skilled hypnotist, she already knows that from long experience. If she did listen, she knows that his soft melodious voice would lull her into a deep hypnotic trance within moments. And once she was under hypnosis, she knows that it would be all too easy to let his suggestions slip past her conscious mind and soften her will into a deep, warm state of arousal. She spreads her legs as the fantasy slowly creeps into her mind, imagining how good it would feel to allow him to make her smooth, blank and empty like that. She won’t, of course. She won’t even listen. She won’t let his commands sink in. She’s just going to stay...smooth, blank, and empty?

“Open your mouth,” he says, but she’s not really thinking about his words. She’s trying to figure out why she feels so calm and relaxed if she’s not hypnotized. She knows she’s doing everything she needs to do to resist his control; it’s almost like there’s a script in her head, a list of techniques for perfect hypnotic resistance. Never walk away, that’s a sign of weakness that the hypnotist can exploit. Never think about what they say, that’s a surefire way to let their commands into your mind. Never distract yourself with any other thoughts, that just allows them to sneak suggestions past you. Never—never—she shakes her head slightly, trying to clear the inexplicable fog of arousal that keeps building up. She squirms in unconscious desire, her skirt sliding up her hips as she does so to reveal panties that are ever so slightly translucent. Something’s...

“Suck the dildo,” he says, but his words just go right past her. Something’s wrong, she knows it, and she can’t let go of it until she figures out exactly what it is. Maybe it’s her focus? She suddenly realizes that she doesn’t know exactly which black dot she was staring at anymore. Her eyes keep going unfocused. She knows how important it is to keep her concentration on a single spot, thinking of nothing else, not letting anything into her conscious mind, but now she can tell that it’s not working. She’s getting distracted something. It’s too hard to figure out exactly what, her breasts are too big and soft and tingly in her hands. A tiny droplet of saliva drips onto them, rapidly worked into the skin by her fingers, and she tries to swallow it back up. It’s hard when she can’t close her mouth because...because...

“Pull your panties aside,” he says, but she’s not thinking about him anymore. She’s thinking about how hard it is to think, all of a sudden. She keeps losing time. She goes from sitting on the couch, watching her dot and refocusing her attention onto it, to tasting plastic in her mouth as she drools onto a thick dildo that her lips are unaccountably wrapped around. And she doesn’t know why. Or when. She’s resisting him, she knows she is. She knows exactly how to resist hypnosis, she’s done it dozens of times. She struggles to remember what she did differently all those other times, but every memory seems to trail down into a rabbit hole of thick, foggy bliss. Soon she’s lost in it.

“Fuck yourself,” he says, his voice thick with lust. She doesn’t listen to the words, but the tone resonates in her confused, hazy mind. She finds one of her hands drifting from her breast down to her crotch, peeling away the sticky panties to expose her pussy to the cool air. She had no idea how wet she was until now, but once she notices, it’s all she can think about. She’s so horny. She’s so relaxed. She’s smooth, blank, and empty. If he commanded her, she knew she would slip away into an obedient trance for him so easily. She can’t let herself think about what he’s saying now, she absolutely can’t. Not when she’s so helpless and vulnerable like this. She has to push all of his words deep into her subconscious mind and make her waking self forget them, every single one. It’s the only way to resist.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his words sliding right past her brain and tugging at her body. “Suck my cock now, good girl.” As soon as he says them, though, they’re already gone. She doesn’t even remember what they were. Even when she tries to think about them, it feels impossible—her fingers are slowly tracing one nipple before dipping around to the other, her other hand is pumping the spit-slicked dildo into her wet pussy, and it’s just too difficult to concentrate. The dots swim in and out of focus as her eyes go glassy. She can’t understand what’s happening to her. She’s doing everything right, but...but...

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he says. Even though she doesn’t consciously notice his words, she can’t help but notice the warmth in them. The softness. The coaxing, irresistible sweetness of each word. It feels so wonderful, just letting that voice wash over her without really thinking about what he’s saying. Without really thinking about anything, really. She’s completely lost track of her focus now; she went into her mind for a timeless instant and let herself focus on the smooth, blank, empty whiteboard and when she regained her awareness of the world around her, her eyes locked onto the stiff cock in front of her instead. It’s in her mouth now, sliding in and out with effortless ease as she masturbates furiously. Everything feels so good, so warm, so hot,

“G-good girl, swallow it all,” he moans, but she’s too busy cumming to pay attention. Her pussy clenches fiercely around the dildo, the throb in her clit pounds in her ears like a second heartbeat that blocks out everything but the endless pleasure. She moans, her throat humming around his cock, and she knows that the sensation is driving him past the point of no return. She’s eager to taste him. She doesn’t understand why—thinking seems impossible right now—but she knows how good it will feel to drink his cum like a good girl. She’s a good girl, she remembers. She doesn’t understand how she could possibly have forgotten. Good girls obey without thinking. She’s not thinking, and she’s obedient. How can she be anything but a good girl?

“Nnnh! D-deeper, pet, deeper and...and deeper,” he gasps, but she’s not listening. She’s drinking down spurt after spurt of his thick, salty cum, her eyes closed as she focuses all her attention on swallowing every drop. His words have already vanished from her mind, going deep below the realms of thought and memory to become a part of her core self. A good girl never listens to commands, she tells herself; she hears and obeys. Resistance is merely a trick she plays on herself, an illusion her waking self believes because her Master wills it. She can never resist Master’s will. She can’t even think about resisting, because she would have to think about obeying to think about resisting and she obeys without thinking. It all makes so much sense that she doesn’t have to think about it, which makes her perfectly obedient. She sighs and slumps back onto the couch as he slips his softening dick out of her mouth.

Then she goes deeper. If he says anything after that, she doesn’t remember it.