The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


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Shelby was struggling in math, so she asked her friend Kumar, a psych major, to help her.

“What’s the problem?” he asked her.

“Well, I just have trouble with numbers,” she said. “And I have trouble focusing on study. I spend too much time thinking about clothes and boys.”

“I’ve just been practicising hypnosis,” Kumar told her. “Why don’t we use it to help make a game of practice?”

She agreed, and allowed him to take her into a deep trance.

“When you are putting on your clothes,” he told her, picturing her going through her morning routine and thinking it was a good time to let her practice her maths, “you will count through the prime numbers, and you will not put on any piece of clothing until you have thought of the next prime number. You will not cheat and you will not use paper or devices.”

“You will want to study maths,” he continued. “You will enjoy spending time with people who help you study maths, and want to please them. You will find thinking about maths enjoyable.”

“And when you think about clothes or boys, you will feel ashamed, and want to be punished proportionately to how much you’ve thought about them.”

Afterwards, Kumar didn’t tell her the exact words he’d used or what he’d suggested to her, but she seemed grateful. In fact, she was very grateful—she thanked him three times for “helping her study maths”, and then kissed him, and then offered to suck his cock. He accepted her offer, and as he watched her pretty face vigorously servicing his dick, he watched her begin to blush, and then blush more and more, and almost as soon as he had pulled out and ejaculated on her face and tits, she confessed that she had been thinking about boys—specifically him—and needed to be punished. Obligingly, he stripped her naked, and used his belt to whip her sopping wet pussy until she orgasmed.

When she had stopped shaking, and gotten to her feet, he watched her struggle to think as she put her clothes back on, coming up with the prime numbers—2 for her panties, 3 for her bra, 5 for her shirt, 7 for her skirt, 11 and 13 for her high heels—and assumed that would be the end of his fun.

It was not. The next morning, to her horror, she realised that the count had not re-set—she was still counting upwards in prime numbers. 17 for her panties, 19 for her bra, 23 for her shirt and 29 for her skirt. With a little thought, she came up with 31 and 37 for her heels.

Early in the day she had a maths tutorial, and afterwards she had to stay back so she could thank the tutor for helping her study maths, and then kiss him, and then beg to suck his cock. He wanted her to take off her shirt and bra so he could cum on her tits, so she did, and then afterwards it took her some minutes of counting before she could put them back on—41 for the bra and 43 for her shirt.

She used the toilet afterwards, and discovered that pulling her panties back up when she was done took another number—47. At that point, she began to really worry about her ability to keep putting her clothes on—until she realised she was thinking about clothes, and then the need came over her to be punished.

She had thought to go to Kumar to ask for punishment—but she couldn’t wait that long. She ended up finding a random middle-aged man passing by and begging him to punish her.

“Like a spanking?” he asked, amused. She blushed, and made an in indecipherable noise. She didn’t want to be spanked—but she needed to be punished. She let the man lead her to his car, and obediently pulled down her panties for him. She lay across his lap in the front seat, and let him beat her bare ass until she was crying. Afterwards, she knew that the punishment was helping her study, so she kissed him and asked to suck his cock. He let her.

When she was done, the taste of cum in her mouth, she thought of putting her panties back on, but didn’t want to waste a number. She left them off, and went to Kumar’s to beg him to undo what he had done.

“Hypnosis doesn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do,” said Kumar. “You must be enjoying this. Anyway, I thought you weren’t supposed to be thinking about clothes.”

She sobbed, because as soon as he said it she realised she was thinking about clothes, and needed to be punished. Kumar was willing to help. He stripped her naked, put bulldog clips on her nipples and clit—which made her scream delightfully—and then he fucked her until he came in her unprotected pussy. She was crying when he was done, but she thanked him and kissed him for helping her study and cleaned off his cock with her mouth.

“Try one more day like this,” he told her. “If you come back here tomorrow, and thank me for helping like you’ve just done, I’ll change your suggestions.”

She thanked him, and left. The prime numbers were harder now, so she only came up with two—53 and 59 for her skirt and shirt—and left with no underwear or shoes.

The next morning she struggled her best to find four numbers—61, 67, 71, 73—for her skirt, shirt, and two shoes, and went to her tutorial without underwear on. She spent the whole morning stressing about her clothes, and so she needed her tutor to punish her—he used his belt on her tits—and then she needed to thank him—he stripped her naked and fucked her ass.

He left her there, with bruised tits and cum leaking from her rectum, assuming she would get dressed and leave, but after putting on her heels—79, 83—she realised she couldn’t think of the next prime number. Was it 89? But 9 was divisible by 3 and 8 was divisible by 4—was that how it worked? Her sex-addled, stressed-out brain couldn’t make it work.

In the end, blushing bright red, she had to leave the tutorial room naked but for her heels. She thought she was brave enough to do it, and go straight to Kumar’s house and ask for help, but as soon as the bright sunlight hit her, she chickened out. She had to think of the next prime—she had to!

She stood there trying to concentrate as cum leaked from her ass. People began to notice her. She blushed. If only she could think of the next prime number, she could put her shirt or skirt on.

As she thought, she realised she liked doing maths. Liked it a lot. As in, it was making her pussy wet. She groaned with shame. The harder she thought, the wetter she got, and the wetter she got, the harder it was to think. People were laughing. She was so horny. She had the urge to masturbate, here, in front of all these people.

89. It must be 89. Triumphantly, she pulled on her shirt. Her cunt was still bare, but she couldn’t bear to stand about any longer. She ran for cover, and called a taxi to take her to Kumar’s.

The taxi driver was amused by her state of undress, and of course Shelby had been thinking about clothes, so she needed to be punished. He made her fuck her pussy with a spiky hairbrush as they drove, which was painful and she cried, but it also made her cum loudly because of how wet she had been. Afterwards she sucked his cock until he filled her mouth with cum.

When she was done, she sprinted into Kumar’s apartment.

“Please,” she begged. “Please. Make it so I can put on my clothes.”

“First things first,” he said. “Thank me for helping you.”

She did thank him, stripping naked, letting him fuck her pussy. Then she begged for punishment, and he put the clamps on her again, and took photos of her—naked, tits and clit clamped, cum leaking from her pussy, masturbating as he had told her to.

Then he said, “Look, clearly you like this counting game, or your mind wouldn’t make you do it.”

“I don’t!” she protested.

He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. But if you want it, I can’t make it go all the way away. BUT, I can make it reset every time you get dressed.”

“Yes!” she said. “Yes, please!”

“But I’ll need to set some new conditions, to give your mind what it wants,” he told her.

She wasn’t paying attention. “Yes, please, just make it stop.”

So he took her into a trance. He told her that she would want to sexually please people who helped her with maths. He told her that she would want to be punished “when she was stupid or slutty”. And he told her that she would still need to count prime numbers before putting on clothes, but that the count would reset each morning.

“But,” he said, “each time you successfully count a prime number, it will make you feel a little more like a stupid cum-drinking whore, forever. And trying to think of a prime number will make you wetter and wetter the longer you think. And once you start trying to think of a prime number, the only things you’ll be able to do until you think of it are either stand still and think, or try and find someone to simultaneously hurt you and cum inside you. And you will only be able to get out of that loop by either working out the prime number, or having someone cum inside you while you’re in pain.” He paused, and then added, “Oh, and you won’t be able to use the toilet without first taking off all your clothes outside the toilet cubicle.”

When he was done, she fucked him again to thank him, and then asked for another round of punishment for being a slut. When she put on the clothes, he watched the intelligence starting to go out of her eyes, and smiled.

She ran out of prime numbers by the next evening, and called him on the phone to beg him to come and rape her because she couldn’t think of the next number and couldn’t do anything else.

She got raped four more times the next day—once by him—and by the day after that she had learned her lesson, that the best way to not get into the loop of needing rape or maths was to not try and put on clothes. She showed up at his place, wet-cunted and naked, face stupid and desperate, and he beat her cunt and then fucked her before showing her to the dog cage he would let her sleep in. Once she had crawled inside on all fours, he shut and locked the door behind her, and then stuck his cock through the bars so that she could thank him for everything he had done for her...