The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It had been a long, gloomy winter but the greyness persisted in my mind far into a balmy spring. I had experienced a series of setbacks through December and January and was still feeling the effects at the end of March. My alcohol intake was getting out of hand and I rarely found myself without a cigarette between my fingers. Many of my colleagues down at the firm were complaining about my appearance and rightfully so. There were times when shaving was neglected and the shirt that was clean and pressed a few days earlier just didn’t make it on the third day in a row.

My boss, an old-timer with very conservative values started getting on my case. He let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t get some help, it may mean my job. With the way things were going, if I turned out to be jobless at that point, I knew a cascade of disasters would soon follow. Friends I had counted on weren’t of any help, dashing here and there with family and personal obligations. It soon became apparent that I had to take the initiative, seek a course of action and follow it through. This, of course, took a major resolution during a time when the thing I was most short on was motivation.

I started to ask around about a good counselor. I had little confidence in psychiatry, pooh poohing analysis. There seemed to be promise, however, with the newer practitioners, most of them psychologists with fresh, novel ideas. That way of thinking led me to one of the most unique experiences of my life. Why it happened to me of all people, I’ll never know. But I suspect that my spirits were so low, and the course of my life so out of kilter, that nothing but the most bizarre occurrence could have turned it around.

She was young and simply beautiful. I’d heard her name circulated at a few parties. The description of her was complimentary but I barely recalled the details. Looking up Dr. Carlson was another matter. Her schedule was tight and she had very little time available. After several attempts I finally got past her receptionist and spoke to her directly. After some pleasantries we moved on to references and mutual acquaintances. A few of my clients and two of my friends knew her on a social basis and because of the depths of my spirits and the above associations she agreed to see me after hours. When she suggested this, I wasn’t aware how unorthodox it was and agreed to the arrangement without a second thought. Actually I didn’t care where we started our sessions. I was only determined to start as soon as possible.

Caring little about most things I undertook, I tried to muster some excitement about our visit. The directions to her cottage were easy enough to follow. The traffic for some reason had thinned out early and I reached her White Planes community with time to spare.

Hers was a peaceful ranch house isolated at the end of a long winding road. There were other houses on the block, randomly spaced, each unique in its own way. I could see how easy it would be to live alone in one of those houses. That’s how I felt as I drove up Dr. Carlson’s drive.

Her silver Triumph was parked in the drive. I pulled alongside. The short walk led to a large oak door with a brass knocker in the shape of a Lion’s head. A peep hole allowed a distorted check of any visitors. The door opened quickly after my knock.

At first I was a little startled by her appearance. In a word she was gorgeous. Younger than I’d expected, probably in her early thirties, her long brown-black hair cascading down to her shoulders caressing an oblong face with high cheekbones and bottomless brown eyes. It seemed like those eyes invited me in before her melodious voice said one syllable.

I focused on her mouth. It was small but her lips were oddly full. Her red lip gloss accentuated them nicely. She asked me to follow her into the living room. We sat down on the couch and talked for a while.

“I’m really pleased you could find the time to come all the way out here to visit me,” she commented. “It’s rare that I see patients in my home. But with our mutual acquaintances—who by the way I checked with—it seems you’re something special. They mentioned that you were having some serious problems.”

“I’m not sure how serious they are,” I replied, “but they’re certainly putting a crimp in my life-style. I can’t figure out how things have deteriorated so much. But I do know that I’m enjoying my life less and less these days. And it’s very kind of you to put in this overtime on my account.”

“Nonsense. Besides that’s what I’m trained to do. No one ever said that people only had problems from nine to five Monday thru Friday. While we’re getting acquainted can I get you a drink?”

“If you mean alcohol, it seems that drinking is about all I’ve been doing lately. I’d really prefer not to start out on the wrong foot. Why don’t you just bring me a soft drink?”

“That sounds like positive thinking to me,” she said approvingly. “Will Pepsi be all right?” I nodded and she left the room.

Her absence gave me a chance to look around. The house wasn’t big but it seemed cozy. Her sofa was large and soft. Lamps of various shapes and sizes bordered the sofa and a recliner set an angle to the couch. In the far corner was a traditional fireplace flanked by large fleecy pillows stacked on top of each other on the carpet. A beanbag chair occupied the another corner. There were pictures and plants hanging all over the place. An entertainment center was mounted along one wall with two large speakers. Books and journals were shelved on different levels of a chrome and glass etager pushed up against the same wall.

She returned to the living room. She had changed into a long red flowered housedress with a slit up one side. Her hair bounced gaily on her milky white shoulders. She handed my soft drink.

“So what in particular is bothering you?” She asked with a determined looked and furrowed brows.

I proceeded to describe my downhill course from August through March. The highlights were there but little of the details. I commented on the proliferation of my bad habits and insisted that I’d made several attempts to step the tide but failed to do so. I was convinced that my sagging social life had a lot to do with it but then alluded to some dreams I’d been having more regularly lately.

The dreams interested her and she asked about the details. I told her how I’d often imagined myself falling from high buildings or running from eerie, grotesque creatures. Frequently I’d awake from these nightmares in a cold sweat feeling more tired than when I’d gone to sleep. I imagined people shooting at me or actually taking my own life. There were times during this period when I pictured how easy it would be to end it all. But in the next breath I insisted that I was incapable of taking such drastic action. All this together painted a very gloomy picture. Through it all, Dr. Carlson listened without comment.

“You do seem very low,” she finally said when I paused. “I can see why you sought help. Our job seems to revolve around finding out why things have taken such a tailspin. Do you have any insights.

I had tossed around that very idea many times, trying to find a common thread, a source for my depression. It seemed to have just descended upon me. There had been many long nights when I searched for reason but always came up wanting. This I related to her.

“It appears that we’re dealing with something deeply set. I don’t know if it’s possible for you to reflect enough to expose it. Of course there are ways that I can assist you. First of all, how easy has it been for you to relax? Lately I mean? You know, really let yourself go?”

“I’d say it’s been virtually impossible. During much of my day I’m so keyed up I can hardly think straight. And then when I get home and spend the evenings trying to unwind, it’s usually without much success. I finally I go to bed, have those dreams, and wake up exhausted all over again.”

“That’s what I thought. It seems to met that our first job is going to teach you to relax. There are many techniques that have recently been devised to do that, most of which are very effective. Do you think you’d like to use that as our starting point.”

“Hey, listen, you’re the doctor. Whatever you think is appropriate.”

“Let me warn you, much of what you experience may seem a bit unorthodox . But then again, we’re interested in results. One thing I can brag about is that I do get results, oftentimes when others fail. Sometimes that requires a little creativity and innovation on my part.”

The introduction ended there. Without further preamble she picked up my empty glass from the coffee table and took it along with hers into the kitchen. When she returned she preparedthe scene.

First, she turned off all the lights, except for a goose-necked lamp that was suspended over the pillows by one side of fireplace. Then she flipped on the stereo and located a station that played soft, somber tones. The atmosphere had suddenly been transformed from one of semi-professionalism to one that suggested quiet romance.

She walked over and took my hand. Hers felt soft in mine. I glanced down and noticed how her slender fingers were graced by long manicured nails. Her polish was red which sent a little thrill through me. I’d always been fascinated by long red nails and hers were the finest I’d seen in some time. It was as if she had known this and prepared them special for me. I followed her willingly, cognizant that I could muster little resistance even if I wanted to. She directed me to the corner and gestured for me to sit down on the pillows. I curled my legs under me but she positioned me on my back, my head propped up by the pillows. The light above me was dimmed, the bottom rim of the cuplike shade which kept the light from directly shining in my eyes.

“Now these are relaxation techniques that have proved to be very effective with some of my other clients,” she began. “I’ve learned that the old verbal rapport that supported every previous patient-therapist relationship can be greatly assisted by physical contact. If both parties realize the goal involved, things can progress smoothly and rapidly. You do appreciate the value of this, don’t you?”

I nodded meekly, overwhelmed by the situation. Here I was lounging on the floor in this cozy White Plains home with this beautiful creature kneeling before me. And she was proposing to engage in physical contact. I could have never imagined such a tantalizing encounter in my wildest dreams.

She then proceeded to loosen my tie and undid the top three button of my shirt. She was sitting next to me, leaning slightly forward, her knees curled under her thighs.

She began by looking directly into my eyes. It was only then that I realized how deep and entrancing they really were. They held my gaze unremittingly even though I tried to look away. They seemed to be draining me of my will. Any power I had to resist her actions vanished. But then again, I had little objection to start with.

“Relaxation is an easy thing to achieve once you’ve learned how to attain it. You must be aware of your muscles, note their tenseness and actively relax them. It works by systematically concentrating on each little part of your body. You can start relaxing one part and the rest falls in to place, like a gently cascade. You have to feel yourself relaxing, inch by inch. As the feeling starts to roll first you might feel your toes relaxing. They begin to feel heavy as the aches ooze out. Just when they feel nice and comfortable you start to sense the wave riding up your legs. Slowly your thighs loose their tenseness and fall limp to the ground. The wave continues up your pelvis and through the abdomen where every muscle gives in to this rippling wave of relaxation.

As she spoke each part of my body seemed to go numb. There was a soothing sense of warmth traveling from my legs all the way up through my belly. She then took her slender re-highlighted fingers and began to massage my chest. Rotating, undulating, the motion soothed and relaxed by breast and climbed up toward my neck. Waves of comfort coursed through my body. I felt the presence of a lump in my pants, but ignored it as soon as I noticed it. I didn’t look but vividly imagined those long red fingernails playing on my chest, kneading deep suggestions of relaxation that traveled all over my body. She talked to me the whole time, her eyes and locked onto mine in an unbreakable bond.

“And as your chest and your neck muscles release, the tension oozes out. The wave climbs up to your head which now feels heavy and relaxed. It begins to press into the pillows. The muscles of your neck are too weak to hold it up. Your entire face become relaxed. You feel yourself becoming tired.”

She now began to stroke my cheeks and forehead. I could see the fleeting streaks of color rotate around my sagging facial muscles.

“As I massage your face and around your eyes, you feel so relaxed and so tired that very muscle in your body has relinquished its tension and none feels stressed. You are warm and relaxed. With each rotation of my fingers around your eyes your eyelids grow more and more heavy. The muscles in you eyelids begin to relax. They feel very, very, heavy. They become so relaxed. Your eyes feel so tired that you can hardly hold them open. Don’t fight it. If they feel like closing, close them.

At this point I could hardly stay awake. My whole body was like lead. I was prepared to give in completely. I barely noticed the monotonous tones that droned out of her mouth. Then she stopped the massage and held her fingers out before me, like a piano player ready to strike a chord. They rested just above my level of vision and I had to strain to see them.

“Watch my fingers. Stare at my nails. See how pretty they are. But as you stare your vision begins to blur. Your eyelids, so heavy already are poised to close. My fingers look so graceful and relaxing. Follow their course with your eyes. When you reach my fingertips they eyes will close. That’s right, start at the knuckles and slowly follow the fingers until the nails appear. At that point you will close your yes and go to sleep. Do that now.

I saw the knuckles and graceful curving of those slender fingers. I soon came to crimson tips and when my eyes reached the very end my eyelids closed.

“That’s right. Now I will begin to count backwards from ten to one. With each number you become more and more relaxed, going deeper and deeper into a pleasant relaxing hypnotic sleep. Ten, deeper now, into a soothing beautiful sleep. Nine...eight...deeper still. Seven....six...five...four.

I vaguely remember the numbers but little else. She guided me on in a alter world of which the details I can hardly be sure. She totally controlled me. I put up no resistance.

She made me undress for her, then had me undress her. We laid next to each other on the soft carpet and I was instructed to pleasure her, first with my hands and then with my tongue. Then she commanded me to hold my arousal, which had begun early in the fantasy, until she’d mounted me and climaxed. Then she let me climax too, in an incredible rush of pleasure. I’d never felt so relaxed and satisfied in my life.

Needless to say my daily existence is no longer the same. I’m energetic and productive. I treat every day as an adventure. And whenever I feel myself slipping into that old rut, of tension and depression, I arrage another therapeutic session with Dr. Carlson.