The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I stepped into my office, and luxuriated in the warm Friday morning sun as it hit my forehead. I sat down at my desk, confident I was ready for my task ahead. The metal plate in front of me proudly displayed my name to the world: Dr. Victor Thorpe, PhD.

Another day of untangling the mystery that is the human mind. For the past 25 of my 51 years, I have dealt with addictions, fears, compulsions, and bad habits of all other kinds, and I must say I’m damn good at it. Certain people in the psychological world don’t appreciate my methods—as if a professional in this field, any field, could instead appreciate a lack of rigour! The mind is not some senseless, mysterious force beyond our control, it is a machine, like any other organ, and it can be understood with mathematical precision. It is a puzzle to untangle in a rational, logical manner, and so much potential is wasted by misguided fools who go to quacks that preach the virtues of simple, ineffective behavioural tricks. Meditation? Hypnotherapy? Acupuncture? Bah. Circus tricks that belong in the medical practices of the Middle Ages. This is the 21st Century; we only do psychology that works here.

And work it did. It turned out to be a full but fulfilling day of solving other people’s minds for them. Sometimes I wondered why the whole human race didn’t do psychology as a matter of course. Imagine going through life without knowing your own mind! Without even trying to be in full control of it! I did admit though, it made my job a rather lucrative affair. By the time the sun was setting, I had found the root causes of three smoking addictions, four gambling addictions, and two cases of anxiety. All in a day’s work.

I didn’t have a secretary—why would I, when I was perfectly capable of scheduling my own appointments?—so I looked through my bookings to see who was next.

Stephanie Thorpe, 25 years old, first appointment. Ah, a woman! This would be easy then; women are fascinated by men who can explain to them the finer points of human psychology. And once you have them hanging on your every word, you can identify the solution to whatever problem they have and propose a treatment plan, and they will lap it up. If my proposed solution happens to take a few sessions longer than she originally anticipated, so much the better.

Incidentally, the fact that we shared the same surname might be a good ice-breaker. Funny coincidences are always just that, of course, but women set store by them in just the same way they do astrology.

It was precisely one minute before our appointment started, so I opened my office door and peered around to the waiting room; a simple affair with some padded chairs and an alcove where I book my appointments. I was pleased to see that Miss Stephanie Thorpe was punctual, as well as very easy on the eye. A sensuous specimen of woman indeed, a face with captivating brown eyes and plump red lips framed by long, dark hair. A slightly immodest, flowing red dress made little attempt to conceal a glorious pair of breasts, nor a pleasingly round posterior. It was all of a sudden easy to imagine why someone might hire such a woman to be their secretary, and perhaps to fulfill other duties besides, if they could be persuaded. As a specialist in the human mind, and a handsome and wealthy man in my own right, I doubted it was beyond me to do a little persuading in that area. Professional decorum first, though.

“Miss Thorpe?” I enquired. She rose from her chair, and those luscious lips formed into a charming smile.

“Doctor Thorpe! It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Please do come in,” I said, holding my door open. She swayed past me, giving me ample opportunity to appreciate the entire package up close.

“So, Miss Thorpe—may I call you Stephanie?”

“Of course!” Stephanie beamed. “It’ll make things less confusing, after all.” She laughed musically. I had been right.

“Then please,” I contrived not to make it sound too flirtatious, “call me Victor.”

“Victor.” There was something of a sensuous lilt in her voice.

“So, Stephanie, I would like you, in your own words, to tell me what you think the problem is.”

Kleptomania is one of the more trivial matters for a psychologist such as myself to solve, but I was in no particular hurry for this gorgeous woman to leave. I had her sit on my couch and allowed her to elaborate on her problem for a while before I offered some sage advice. I then delved into the history of the psychology of kleptomania. She was rapt with attention the entire time. Some of it was questionably relevant or helpful to her specific issue, but no matter, there was always the next session.

For our entire appointment she was clasping some trinket tightly in her left hand, with her right hand often covering her left so that the entire object was in her delicate grip. When I enquired about it, she said having something already in her hands helped her focus on fighting her urges. It was a good first effort, but I assured her that together we would come up with something far better, it was just a matter of teasing out the root causes that were buried in her brain. I was certain that rewiring would take no more than three sessions, but I told her to budget for five. Just in case. She was happy to agree, just as I thought. I found myself looking forward to our future sessions together, and wondering if I could persuade her somehow to extend them further. The sight of her breasts rising and falling with her breath as she lay there on the couch was truly remarkable.

Eventually, I could stretch the time out no more, and she rose to leave.

“Oh, Victor,” she gushed, coming over to my desk to shake my hand, “thank you for this! I’m so glad you can help me get a handle on this before it gets me into trouble.”

I got up and came around my desk to meet her handshake, “It’s my pleasure to do so.”

I was surprised, however, when instead of shaking my hand, she wrapped her arms around my neck and softly kissed me.

Relax. Relax.

Her lips were luscious, pillowy and sensual as advertised. If it was somehow possible for women to evolve the perfect lips for kissing men, this wonderful creature had done just that. I relaxed and enjoyed it. The sensation was incredible, and it drove all thought from my mind.

Relax and let me kiss you. Click.

After what seemed like an age, but was probably only a few seconds, I regained my senses and pushed her away. “Miss, ah, Stephanie” I stammered, “this is extremely inappropriate. I am your psychologist, and this sort of behaviour could end my career!”

“Oh?” Stephanie replied contritely, “I’m sorry, Doctor. I thought this was what you wanted. Weren’t you flirting with me earlier?”

That was true enough, although I would never let people know that normally. She had somehow seen through my veneer of professionalism.

Stephanie stepped back into my personal space and whispered, “I’m just thanking you for helping me out.” This time I knew what was coming, but for some reason my body was too relaxed to stop her. She kissed me again, a little more insistently than the first time, and again the blissful feeling of her soft, sensuous lips chased all thoughts from my head. My conflicted ideas about this seemed suddenly unimportant.

You want me to keep kissing you. Just relax and enjoy my lips. Click.

I broke it off again, reluctantly, “Stephanie, please, I could get in serious trouble for this.”

“Nobody needs to know,” she murmured seductively, running one of her hands up my tie, “it could be our little secret.” She was persuasive, and I thought she knew it too. It was true, I was enjoying her kisses, and on some level I desperately wanted her to keep kissing me.

“Just to thank you for all your hard work?” She fluttered her eyelashes at me.

I sighed. This wasn’t quite the timeframe I had imagined for this, but… I decided to just relax and enjoy her lips. “Very well. Just to say ‘thank you’.“

She stepped away, mercifully ignorant of the problem I was developing in my trousers, “Same time next week then?”

I was very glad that Stephanie was my last appointment of the day, because after she left, I had trouble thinking of anything except her sweet lips and wonderful kisses. I kept thinking that she had been whispering something in my right ear, sweet nothings that drifted just outside of my perception, but that was ridiculous. She had been kissing me, she couldn’t possibly have been speaking at the same time. I had just been imagining it, my personal sexual fantasies driven wild by the scenario that had been playing out in front of me.

Eventually, I managed to shake myself out of my daze and find my way home, collapsing into bed at the earliest opportunity. I dreamed of Stephanie, and her lips.

The week that followed was not my finest work. I spent much of it in a state of absolute distraction, anticipating the Friday that was to come. Not that my patients noticed. I did notice, however, and I even debated mentally untangling myself—thinking my way out of bad behaviours with my trademark infallible logic and mental precision. I then realised, however, that the simple truth was that I enjoyed her kisses, and wanted her to keep kissing me. There was nothing mentally ill about that, it was simply the natural drive of a red-blooded male confronted with a pretty woman.

Eventually, Friday arrived with little fanfare. I put as much effort as possible into making sure that Stephanie would be pleased with her own progress—or rather, my hard work to facilitate that progress. A treatment plan, that was the key. Something we could work on together over the following three sessions. Hopefully more.

She was a minute late this time, but I found I could forgive her this minor transgression. She glided into my office, since I had left the door open in anticipation of her arrival while I checked and rechecked my notes. I noted that she was wearing the same red dress as last time. Dare I hope that she was saving it for me? She was still holding something in her left hand.

“Ah, Miss Stephanie. Please come in, make yourself comfortable.” She complied, gracefully sprawling herself onto my couch. It was remarkable how sensual she was in everything she did.

“Why don’t we start with you telling me about your week,” I said in my best professional soothing voice, “and how it relates to any kleptomaniac urges you may have had.”

It turned out that Miss Stephanie Thorpe was a teacher’s aide for a university Psychology course. I had come highly recommended for her treatment, in fact, by one of the faculty. It was pleasing to know that I still had allies somewhere in academia, and even more pleasing to hear it from Stephanie. It occurred to me that she may even be open to a position working as my secretary. It would be a good way for her to get work experience in this field outside of the confines of a university. And I would have to check to make sure she was compensated more handsomely than for being a teacher’s aide, not that that would be too difficult…

I realised I was getting ahead of myself, and snapped back to the present.

“...So I would say I’ve had plenty of exposure to the possibility of stealing things,” Stephanie was saying. In reference to, er, student exam papers? Or possibly one of a number of items that she would have had access to as a teacher’s aide. I had lost track.

“But with your guidance, I haven’t succumbed to my urges even once.” she continued. “Thank you so much.”

My gaze drifted back to her lips as she said this, remembering how she had promised to thank me. Remembering how much I enjoyed it. She must have caught my gaze, or come to the same association herself, because she rose from the couch and approached my desk. I met her halfway there. I felt the object in her hand brush past my ear as she folded her arms around me and kissed me with soft, plump lips. I relaxed and let my mind go blank as the kiss overwhelmed my senses again.

Click. You love my lips. You don’t want to stop kissing me. You will— Click.

“Mmmiss Stephanie,” I half-groaned as I reluctantly broke the kiss, well aware that this was beyond any sort of professional decorum, “perhaps we ought to, um, keep this to the end of the session, and discuss your treatment plan in the meantime.”

“Of course,” she smiled, “the end of the session.” It occurred to me that I’d implicitly agreed that she would be kissing me again. We had practically scheduled it as part of our appointment. Perhaps for all appointments going forward. And yet… I was struggling to find a reason to do otherwise. I loved her lips, and didn’t want to stop kissing her.

It took some time for my focus to return, but eventually I was able to guide her through the rest of the session, untangling the knots in her brain slowly and methodically through patient advice and, of course, the treatment plan going forward. It was open-ended; I told her that it would take at least ten sessions to establish her new behaviour as routine rather than exceptional, and she could visit as she liked afterwards to make sure there were no relapses. She was delighted by my assurances, and clearly in a mood to ‘thank’ me again. It was near enough the end of the session that I stood up expectantly. This time, she slid upright on the couch and patted it, inviting me to sit down next to her.

Before I knew it, my feet had carried me there and her hands were lovingly cradling my face. Her trinket was pressed against my cheek, but I hardly noticed it. She kissed me again and I lost myself in her lips.

Click. —find any excuse to let me kiss you. Let yourself surrender to this feeling. Surrender.

It felt so warm and pleasant to just drift in her embrace, surrendering to her lips, her legs resting on my lap, her voice floating into my ears…

You should relax your office hours for me. Click.

I was panting for breath as she broke it off. She put one finger under my chin and tilted my head up so that I was millimetres away from kissing her again. I could not have stopped her from kissing me again like she had done already—long, slow, and passionate—but instead she started placing brief, soft, mind-melting smooches on my lips.

“So, I was thinking,” she whispered between kisses, “this is an important phase for you, isn’t it?”

It was so hard to think. I just wanted to relax and let her kiss me, so I replied “Yes”, trying to sound self-assured even though I couldn’t quite remember the question.

“Perhaps I could come in earlier than next Friday, like Monday evening? Just to make sure the behaviour is reinforced?”

It was difficult to concentrate under such lovely torment, but I got what she was driving at. She wanted to make more regular appointments. Well, that suited me just fine. I wanted to see her more often anyway, and any excuse to let her kiss me would do.

“I suppose,” I blurted, still in a daze from her pleasurable onslaught, “I could find time on Monday?” I had appointments for the entire day, but for such a beautiful woman I could relax my office hours, so she could keep kissing me… and we could also work on her problem together. “Say, 4:30 PM?“

“4:30 would be wonderful” Stephanie beamed, leaning in for one more mind-numbing kiss—

You will think about me when you jerk off. Cli-

—before swinging her captivating legs off my lap, where it became apparent that they had been concealing my erection. I had not even realised how hard I was, but it was extremely uncomfortable now that I noticed it. Her glance flickered downwards, and her smile may have widened a touch before she adjusted herself and left my office.

Weekends are generally agreed to be periods of rest and respite, but if anything I felt more exhausted on Monday than on Friday. I had spent much of the weekend—far too much—pleasuring myself thinking about Stephanie and her gorgeous, captivating body. By the time I had realised I actually needed to do some preparatory work for the week ahead, it was already Sunday evening, and I had to frantically organise my affairs as much as possible before collapsing into bed well past midnight. The only part of me that was really awake was my manhood, which was extremely distracting. For obvious reasons, I took care not to venture out from behind my desk if I could avoid it during the following day.

My 4:00 appointment seemed none too happy to see my bedraggled state, and in fact was only too keen to be ushered out the door at 4:30 on the pretext that staying any longer would be a waste of both of our times. In reality of course, I had an appointment to keep for this time slot. I tidied the office up, making it presentable for Stephanie. It was important that I make it look appealing to work here. I would find any excuse for her to keep kissing me, after all.

So I sat on my desk, manhood twitching uncomfortably within my trousers, and waited patiently for her to arrive.

And waited.

5 minutes became 10.

10 became 15.

I started to panic, wondering if she might not show up at all. What if she had decided that psychological therapy was no longer a productive avenue for her? What if she had gone to see someone back at the university instead? She might never thank me with a kiss again!

Also, it … it was damn disrespectful of my time, is what it was! I could relax my office hours for Stephanie, so it was fine in this case, but if it had been anyone else, it would have been damn disrespectful!

It was 25 minutes past the appointed time when Stephanie finally graced me with her presence. Perhaps I was expecting her to look apologetic, but she did not.

“Victor!” she said, a note of affection in her voice, “I appreciate you keeping this time free for me.”

“I, well,” I blustered, “you’re welcome to it, but if you had been 5 minutes later the building would have locked up for the night! Come in, quickly, let’s get this show on the road!”

She quickly laid a hand on mine. “I think we’re well past the point of pretending that you want to use these sessions to help me.”

“Whatever do you mean?” I objected, though I didn’t try to remove her hand.

“What you really want,” she whispered, leaning in closer to me, “is for me to use our entire session time to kiss you, not merely a few minutes at the end. Isn’t that right?”

I was floundering. “I admit, ah, your kisses are lovely, and I do enjoy…”

“It’s okay to admit it” Stephanie soothed me. “Look at my lips and admit that you want me to kiss you, more than anything else in the world.”

My last veneer of professionalism evaporated, consequences be damned. “I want your kisses more than anything else in the world” I croaked.

Stephanie gave a knowing, almost condescending smile. “Then perhaps we should do that, instead of wasting our time on a treatment you don’t believe in.”

As soon as we were settled onto the couch, Stephanie’s lips were on mine. All my reservations drifted away instantly. I lay there, floating in bliss. Imagining her voice whispering seductively in my ears as she kissed me.

My kisses make you relaxed. My kisses make you sleepy. You don’t want to leave. Click

My brain slowly rebooted itself as the kiss went on, thoughts surfacing from beneath a heady cloud of relaxation. I wondered why her words in my head, still dangling just out of reach of my memory, were always accompanied by a click. It was the sound of a button being pushed… but why was I imagining that?

Abruptly, Stephanie broke the long, deep kiss we had been sharing and instead started peppering my lips with gentle, repetitive smooches like she had on Friday. This served to chase my thoughts away again, making me even more relaxed and sleepy. And again, she spoke in between kisses, although it was difficult to concentrate on her words. Just like in my imagination.

“You’re so relaxed and sleepy right now.” She punctuated her statement with a kiss.

I was so relaxed, and even a little sleepy. I tried to focus, tried to convince myself of the indignity of falling asleep in my office after hours—with one of my patients on my lap, no less!—but I just could not focus with those lips on mine.

“My lips are hypnotic.” kiss “Mesmerising.” kiss

I was not by any means a believer in hypnosis, but I couldn’t deny that her lips were hypnotic, in some ways.

“My lips are hypnotising you.” kiss

That wasn’t right. Hypnosis was pseudoscientific scam artistry, fit for sideshow entertainment and little else. I wasn’t actually being-

“You will obey my lips.” kiss

I… had been obeying her lips, it was true. She had wanted to kiss me, and I had let her. She had altered my office schedule to her needs, she had—wait…

“My lips are hypnotising you.” kiss

I supposed… if her lips could be said to be hypnotic, then… it was so hard to think. Her kisses made me sleepy. So sleepy.

“You will obey my lips.” kiss

I would obey her lips. That was true.

“My lips are hypnotising you” kiss

Her lips… were hypnotising me?

“You are falling into a deep hypnotic trance for my lips.” Kiss kiss kiss

I was falling into a deep hypnotic trance for her lips.

“You are hypnotised by my lips, and my kisses.” Kiss kiss

I was … hypnotised by her lips. Her kisses.

“Deeply hypnotised for me.” Kiss

Deeply hypnotised for Stephanie.

“Sleep now.” Kiiissssss

I slept.

I dreamed of lying in Stephanie’s lap, her pleasant voice floating into my ears. I couldn’t quite understand her, but I could feel the words soaking into my mind.

You will obey me from now on. You will do anything for me, for my lips. You are submissive and obedient to me. You have been hypnotised by my kisses, and you will allow me to do that to you again any time I want. You will not consciously remember being hypnotised, but you will remember craving my kisses. Do you understand?

At certain points I felt my mouth move, almost as if I was responding to her without having to consciously form the words. Well, it was just a dream after all.

You no longer believe I have kleptomania. You will forget that I ever said I have kleptomania. You believe that we have organised these sessions so that I may continue to kiss you. You will think nothing strange of this, but you will not tell anyone else about it, nor will you charge me for these sessions. You will allow me to book them for whatever day and time I want. Any time I kiss you and say ‘Sleep for my lips’...

I woke, to my horror, to find myself still on the couch in my office, and Stephanie apparently long gone. How had this happened?! We had kissed, and then… she had made an appointment for Wednesday evening. Yes, I remembered now. After office hours, but I could accommodate her. I hoped I hadn’t offended her by falling asleep like this and leaving her to, apparently, show herself out.

I checked my watch for the time.

No.

That wasn’t possible.

It was already 3:00 AM!

Not only had I slept on my own couch for over nine hours like some kind of drunken lout, but I had left myself no time to go home and freshen up, never mind prepare for my appointments in the morning. I would have to make do with yesterday’s clothes—the thought made my skin crawl, but what choice did I have?

Worse, I had one of the largest erections of my entire life. Even as I hastily tidied myself up and made a hopeless attempt to be presentable for the morning, my manhood throbbed uncomfortably in my trousers, and seemed completely unwilling to go down. It didn’t help that I was continually being plagued with memories of Stephanie’s lips, and what else we might have done on that couch if I hadn’t fallen asleep.

My hand slowly crept downwards. I wasn’t sure that I should do this. I was in my office. There would be people in here in just six hours. I … her kisses had me riled up, and that pretty dress that showed off her cleavage so nicely. I couldn’t resist my own urges. Surely just a quick rub wouldn’t hurt?

But a quick rub turned out not to be nearly enough for the lust raging through my body. Before I knew it, my trousers were down and I was furiously pleasuring myself with a pile of tissues at the ready. Thankfully, it was barely a minute before I had covered them in my seed. I hastily wrapped the tissues into a tight ball, buried it at the bottom of my waste paper bin, and threw open the door in an attempt to air the office out.

I could only hope that, come morning, nobody would notice.

Tuesday dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. I fled the office and plunged myself straight into the hottest and most cleansing shower of my life. I was relieved to have escaped with most of my dignity, and thankful that I at least had Stephanie’s appointment the following evening to look forward to. My hand strayed towards my manhood again as I thought about her, and her lips, and her kisses…

The shower ended up being relieving in more ways than one. I collapsed into bed, completely drained.

Wednesday evening found me meticulously dusting my office to make it presentable for Stephanie. A small nagging part of me wondered if I should ask her how I came to fall asleep on my own couch for several hours, but it was largely drowned out by the part that craved her kisses.

When she arrived, she didn’t bother with preamble or even a proper greeting. She simply walked into my office, sat on the couch and patted it, an implicit command to join her. I sat down obediently.

“We have a lot of ground to cover today” she said firmly, in a tone I hadn’t quite heard from her before. “Let’s get right into it.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. Wasn’t this just another one of our kissing appointments? Before I could ask, her lips were on mine and my mind melted away.

“Sleep for my lips.”

I was back in that warm, comfortable dream of lying on Stephanie’s lap again, listening to her. Obeying her.

From now on you will treat all women with the utmost courtesy and respect. You will stop thinking of them as eye candy. In fact, you will defer to their experience and expertise whenever possible. Meditate for a while on the fact that I already have a Ph.D in Psychology, the field you love so dearly, and you had no idea. You didn’t even ask. You just saw an excuse to flirt with me. Expecting me to swoon over your superior knowledge.

She was right. How could I not have known? I had seen fit to hire her as my secretary so that I may admire her beauty more often… except that thought seemed wrong now.

You are stuck in your ways. People are not machines, and you cannot use mathematics to solve the mind like it’s an equation. People are infinitely complex.

Her tone was gentle, but the words were harsh. I shivered, trying to wake up from this dream, but I was soothed by soft kisses on my upturned cheek. Relaxing back into the hazy bliss that clouded my mind.

Shhhshhhshhhhh, just relax, just one more session. You will see me on Friday morning. You will cancel all of your other appointments…

I bluffed my way through Thursday’s appointments. My head just wasn’t in it. It was as if I no longer believed in my own methods. I think my patients could sense it, too. Some of them, I got the impression as they left my office, wouldn’t be back for another appointment.

At least I had cancelled all of my Friday appointments. I could look forward to a nice, quiet weekend to recalibrate myself. After, of course, a nice relaxing Friday morning of kissing Dr. Stephanie. What a wonderful woman she was. I wouldn’t be so crass as to linger purely on her physical aspects, but I had to admit her lips, especially, were mesmerising. And on top of her radiant beauty, she was terribly smart and diligent; she had done her Ph.D in Psychology! It seemed only natural to refer to her as Dr. Stephanie after I learned that.

When Friday came, I was in my office as early as I could be, and I was surprised to note that she wasn’t far behind me. The whole building had only just opened. I stood aside and allowed her into the office.

“Please, Dr. Stephanie, come in and make yourself comfortable.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Good! That’s much better, Victor.”

I hesitated, unsure what she expected of me now. I knew I was not supposed to leer. Did she intend to spend the session kissing me, like I had wished for? Like I had pleasured myself thinking about so many times?

She stepped into my personal space, so that our faces were nearly touching. I restrained myself. If she wanted to kiss me, she would.

“I have a confession to make” she whispered.

“Yes?” I replied, faintly puzzled.

She kissed me. Her warm, soft lips roamed over mine, chasing my thoughts away.

“Sleep for my lips.”

I was gone.

Then something unusual happened. She woke me up, almost. It was as if my eyes were open, and my senses were receiving all their input normally, but my mind was still floating in that hazy dream on her lap.

“My confession is that I’m not just here for your appointments” Stephanie said. “I’m also looking for a job at your office.”

My heart would have leapt to hear this only a week ago. But somehow, now I could only say “Yes, Dr. Stephanie.”

She kissed me. I realised with some elation that correct answers would lead to kisses.

“You have been hypnotised by my kisses. Say it.”

“I have been hypnotised by your kisses.”

Kiss

“How do you feel about that?”

“I feel wonderful, Dr. Stephanie.”

Kiss

“Interesting. You didn’t believe in hypnosis before, did you Victor?”

That was a hard question. It was impossible to focus my thoughts when she was kissing me. How was I supposed to answer it? “I did not, Dr. Stephanie.”

No kiss. She said “What changed?”

That was an easy one. “I was hypnotised by your kisses, Dr. Stephanie.”

Kiss

“Well, that settles it then. I think you should call me Mistress when we’re alone together.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Kiss

“Now, about that job I mentioned. You’d love to give me any job working in your office, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Kiss, kiss

“But your practice is not doing well, and your methods aren’t popular with your peers. It treats people like equations to solve.”

“Yyyess Mistress.” I felt a bit uncomfortable at this, but before I could think about why, her lips were on mine again and the discomfort vanished from my mind.

“You should hire me as another psychologist for your practice.”

It’s hard to say if I would have protested at this, because she leaned in and kissed me, chasing my thoughts away before I could respond. She then continued talking as though my input was no longer relevant. Which, in truth, it wasn’t.

During a barrage of hypnotic kisses that ensured I could never resist, she explained to me what our working relationship would be from now on. I would sign off all of the paperwork she needed me to sign. I would maintain the scheduling, the accounting, and the backend of the business—rather like a secretary. I would still be the face of the business, but for administrative purposes only. Dr. Stephanie would be the one actually offering her counselling services to clients. I would take on clients only if she found them too irksome to deal with, or if they had a problem with talking to a woman for any reason.

She wanted to expand the range of treatments the practice offered, especially to cover hypnotherapy. The thought of her kissing other people like this was discomforting, until she reminded me that if I was a good secretary for her, I would be rewarded with kisses at the end of every day. Perhaps she would even let me pleasure my-

Seriously, Victor! How have you managed to relate to people at all when you talk like this the whole time?!

-jerk off to her.

Over the weekend, we implemented the changes she had suggested. I remembered signing whatever she put in front of me. Giving her a generous paycheque that had been on par with mine or maybe even more, while I took a significant paycut to suit my new duties. It occurred to me, dimly, that she had simply walked in and taken over my business, but I was being regularly hypnotised by her lips, and it was a wonderful feeling to fall into her kiss-induced trance, so who was I to complain?

As it turned out, the transition was even simpler than it sounded on paper. A fresh coat of paint, some curtains to give it a private, intimate atmosphere, a few phone calls to update the website, a bit of furniture shopping to improve the waiting room, and that was it. We didn’t even have to change the name of the practice; it could still be called “Dr. Thorpe Psychology and Counselling Services”. What a happy coincidence!

From that Monday, after Dr. Stephanie’s stealth rebranding and relaunching of the practice, business was booming! For some reason, hypnotherapy was very popular with the influx of new clients Dr. Stephanie attracted, especially the men but also a curious number of women. I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised. Dr. Stephanie’s ideas were always good. She had told me so while she was kissing me.

With my new and improved attitude, Dr. Stephanie would send me out to do networking with other psychologists. Some of them, who knew me from way back when, seemed surprised to see me outside of an academic or office setting, and some of the women even graciously accepted when I apologised profusely for being rude or chauvinistic in the past.

However, no matter how much they ribbed me to the tune of “Which woman finally got under your skin?", I had been expressly forbidden from mentioning Dr. Stephanie, for the time being at least. This seemed wrong to me, somehow. I knew that she must have a good reason for this that I simply didn’t understand, but surely the point of networking was to put names out there? When she allowed me to be lucid for a time, I asked her about it. She laughed and told me that, if this venture got her into trouble, she wanted a quick getaway with as few loose ends as possible. The transition of control of the practice back to me would be as smooth as the transition to her had been, and if there was a fall to take, I would have to take it.

“But don’t worry,” she said, as she stroked my forehead and started kissing my thoughts away again, “I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

She planted an especially long, deep kiss on my lips, and I knew, without her even having to say it, that she wanted me to sleep for her.

As I drifted off, I thought I heard her say “I have big plans for this place…”