The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“I-I’m sorry” I stammered awkwardly, “I guess I didn’t expect ‘Dr. Thorpe’ to be a woman.”

Dr. Stephanie Thorpe fixed me with a look, the one shrinks always do where it feels like they’re reading your mind. “Do you have an issue with that?” she said, piercingly.

“No, not at all!” I wasn’t lying, either. I worked with plenty of women in my job as it was, and I’d grown used to the soppy ‘talk about your feelings instead of bottling it up’ stuff around them. It didn’t hurt that she was pretty, too. But I could have sworn that when the doc gave me the referral for a shrink, he referred to Dr. Thorpe as a man…

“Well then, Bruce” she smiled, “would you like to tell me why you came here today?”

It turns out that ‘security guard’ is an especially bad job to pair with anxiety. It’s only really relevant if things go balls-up, but when that happens you’d prefer if I was The Man With The Plan. I heard that feeling unworthy of my job was just another symptom of anxiety and thinking that way would just make it worse, which would make me feel less able to do my job, which would make me even more anxious, blah blah blah. So here I was, sucking it up and trying therapy to deal with my problems.

I told Dr. Thorpe this, and she pursed her lips in thought. They were very nice lips, actually, full and bow-shaped. Please, doctor, think about my problems more often.

“Alright, Bruce,” she said, “well the first thing we need to do is understand where in your life your anxiety stems from. There could be many triggers, or there could be one. Would you like to tell me more about your life?”

I ran a hand through my beard, puzzled, and asked “What specifically about my life?”

She shrugged, “Anything that comes to mind. It will all help, even if just to get a sense of how you think.”

So I told her. Not much social life, hadn’t had a girlfriend in a while, most of my interaction with people, especially women, came from my job. It wasn’t a bad life, maybe a little less than what I’d like, but I couldn’t complain.

Dr. Thorpe rested her chin on her hand thoughtfully once I was finished. “I think there’s a lot here we can cover while you’re having these sessions. Solving any one issue in your life is likely going to require solving others, and it sounds like you have a few things troubling you in addition to anxiety.”

That was ridiculous. I had absolutely no reason to complain about my life. There was barely anything troubling me. I shoved down the treacherous voice in the back of my head saying ‘How did she know?!’

“Erm,” I said, “let’s try the anxiety first. That’s the big one.”

“Of course,” Dr. Thorpe smiled, “but it sounds like you’re holding a lot back from me, perhaps in ways you don’t even realise. It’s more common than you might think” she added, no doubt seeing my skeptical look.

“Well, I’ve told you all I can, doctor, so what do you suggest?”

Dr. Thorpe steepled her fingers, and replied “I think from what you’ve told me that you’re a very guarded person, no pun intended. You seem thoughtful, but not accustomed to introspection. I would like this office to be a place where you can truly open up and be yourself. If you find yourself uncomfortable with that kind of self-examination, that in itself could be a symptom of anxiety. I suggest we try hypnotherapy.”

“What?” I scoffed. “Hypnotherapy? Like the whole ‘you are getting sleepy’ thing?”

“Yes, the whole ‘you are getting sleepy’ thing” Dr. Thorpe smirked. I got the feeling she’d answered this question before.

She continued, “If you are having trouble expressing your innermost feelings, we can take the self-conscious, self-critical part of your mind out of the equation, and you will be able to speak freely without suffering your own judgement.”

That… was a tempting idea. “Well, I would like to stop judging myself,” I sighed, “so let’s give it a shot.”

“Alright,” Dr. Thorpe stood up and searched a shelf at the back of her office, “I should tell you that it’s perfectly normal to feel like you’re falling asleep during hypnotherapy. I won’t find it rude of you.”

“Yeah, that figures” I joked back, “goes with the whole ‘you are getting sleepy’ part.”

Dr. Thorpe smiled indulgently, “The important thing is that we find you something to focus on.” She displayed the things she had searched for, “What’ll it be? The candle, the metronome, the necklace, or something else?”

My gaze flickered briefly down to her chest. I knew exactly what I’d like to focus on if I had to look at something for the next hour. Well, a guy can dream. I snapped out of it and said “Erm, the necklace?”

“Perfect” Dr. Thorpe replied, piling the other things back onto the shelf. “Make yourself comfortable on that couch while I bring up a chair next to you.”

I felt a bit silly, lying there and waiting to be hypnotised by a shrink. That wasn’t how it really worked, was it? Dr. Thorpe pulled up a chair next to the couch so she could look me right in the eyes. She was even lovelier up close. As she dangled the necklace in front of me, I had a perfect line of sight straight to her chest, and some arguably unprofessional cleavage framed by strands of long brown hair. I wasn’t going to complain, though it made focusing on the necklace a little harder. Wouldn’t want her to get a bad impression of me right off the bat.

“The first step,” Dr. Thorpe began, and her voice was suddenly a lot more calm and soothing, “is to try and control your breathing.” She started swinging the necklace gently back and forth. It was an intricate sort of circle of silver, with the jewel, sapphire maybe, embedded in the middle. The lines and patterns around it made it look a bit like a star.

She said, “Just relax and focus on my necklace, as you take a deep breath in, hold, and let it out slowly. Good. You’re feeling more relaxed already, aren’t you?”

It was true. Forcing myself to control my breathing had let out all the tension in my shoulders. I hadn’t realised I was holding so much of it. I nodded, keeping my eyes on her necklace.

“And as you keep breathing slowly in and slowly out like that,” Dr. Thorpe continued, “I want you to notice your stress leaving your body. With each breath, just draw out the tension from each part of your body. Your shoulders… your arms… your legs… your chest… everywhere that you’ve been holding that tension, as you just focus on my necklace. Watch it swing back and forth, back and forth, as you relax, and the tension just drains right out of your body. Don’t let anything else distract you. In, and out, relax. Back, and forth, relax. You may find that as you relax, as you let go of you tension, that you’re getting a little sleepy. That’s absolutely fine. Just keep focusing on the jewel at the centre of my necklace, as your eyes get so heavy, relaxed, and sleepy. Keep focusing until you’re too relaxed to keep your eyes open any longer.”

It was good—surprisingly good—to relax like this, and I realised I was letting go of tension from my body that must’ve been there for years. Chiropractors, who needs ’em? But, whatever she said, I wasn’t getting sleepy. Just not feeling it. Or maybe I was too strong-willed. How long should I let her go on?

She was still swinging the necklace, whispering “You’re doing very well. When I snap my fingers, you can allow yourself to fall completely asleep, the slow, rhythmic swing of my necklace still in your mind’s eye, feeling so relaxed and sleepy now, as I count down from 5 to 1. 5, letting all your cares just float away. 4, letting my beautiful necklace soothe your tired eyes and weary mind to sleep. 3, impossible to keep your heavy eyes open any longer. 2, closing your eyes, drifting into a deep hypnotic trance for me. Completely open, completely relaxed… aaannd 1. How do you feel now, Bruce?”

I had closed my eyes as she told me to, just to see if I would feel any different. But I didn’t. I felt relaxed, sure, but otherwise I felt… completely normal. I opened my eyes again, just to prove that I could, and looked up at Dr. Thorpe.

“Sorry,” I grinned, “it didn’t work. Guess I’m just too strong-willed to be hypnotised.”

Dr. Thorpe smiled wryly down at me as she tucked the necklace away. “So it would seem” she said.

I was not ready for her to cup my face in her hands and kiss me on the lips.

My shock quickly faded into a pleasant, hazy sort of bliss. For the first time, it really was as if all of my worries had gone. Her lips were magical, lightly pressing against mine like a slow, seductive massage. Who was I to care why she was doing it? My entire world shrank down to the feeling of her soft, sexy lips on mine, my mind filling with static, drowning out all thoughts, all other input from my senses. There was only her kiss.

She broke it off. My eyes blinked up at her in complete confusion, my brain totally disconnected from my body.

She snapped her fingers, “Sleep now.”

Sleep now. Sleep now. Sleep now. It was the only thought in my head. I couldn’t even form another thought to compete with it. Her kiss had driven my mind blank.

So I slept.

“...1, and wide awake! How do you feel now, Bruce?”

I drifted slowly out of what felt like the deepest, most restful sleep I’d had in weeks. It took me a while to get my bearings. I was still on the couch, in the shrink’s office. Of course, Dr. Stephanie had hypnotised me. She had said I would sleep when she snapped her fingers, and then she had snapped her fingers and I had slept. Nothing more to it.

I blinked, “Fine.” I was surprised to hear myself say it, but it was true.

Dr. Stephanie beamed, “We made some good progress today. Over the next few sessions we’re going to explore the parts of your mind, and your life, that are triggering your anxiety. If you’re okay with it, that is.”

“Um…” I said stupidly, “uh, yeah, that would be great! Thanks Doctor Ste- uh, Doctor Thorpe.”

“Excellent!” Dr. Stephanie beamed, “I will see you next week, then! Oh, and if I’m allowed to call you Bruce, you’re absolutely allowed to call me Stephanie.”

“Oh good” I sighed, with some relief, “I just wasn’t sure, you know, patient-therapist relationship, how formal does it have to be?”

Dr. Stephanie eyed me, “So, when you weren’t sure of the rules, you decided to make them up for yourself, and you played it safe so that they were especially restrictive on you just to avoid offending me. Is that about right?”

She was good, I had to give it to her. “Yeah… is that an anxiety thing?” I asked, though somewhere in the back of my head, I already knew.

She nodded, “Indeed, and I’ll leave you to think on it until our next appointment, but that’s all we have time for today.”

I gaped when I realised that about 50 minutes had passed since she had first offered to hypnotise me. Now that was what I called a power nap! I groaned, stretching my legs as I staggered upright. “Next week then! Hopefully you don’t have to keep me under for the entire thing next time” I joked. “Must be very boring talking to a sleeping man.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, I found your subconscious self to be excellent company” Dr. Stephanie replied, airily.

I left her office with a spring in my step.

Incredible as it was, my session with Dr. Stephanie really did help. I could have sworn up and down that hypnosis was a stage magician’s trick before seeing her, but there was something about it that was giving me a real confidence boost. I did have the occasional lapse, but most of the time my previous anxieties felt sort of… disconnected from me. I imagined that there was a new voice in my head arguing with the other one, and often winning. Hypnosis, who’d have thought?

I arrived at the next session more determined than ever to beat this thing, and despite a rough week at the office, surer than ever that I could do it. I must have looked really run down, cause Dr. Stephanie noticed immediately. I assured her that I was 100% committed.

She smiled at that, “You’ve been responding to therapy very well so far, Bruce, I just want to make sure you don’t burn yourself out. This is only your second appointment after all.”

“Forget burnout,” I snorted, “whatever you did last week worked a treat. Do it again!... please.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so” she beamed. “Do you still want to try the necklace, or something different?”

I nodded quickly. “The necklace, please.” It had worked before, why mess with a good thing?

She beamed, and retrieved it from the shelf. As she sat down next to me again I noticed her cleavage was even more on display than last week. As she began to swing the necklace in that slow, soothing way of hers, it only made it even harder not to get distracted by her incredible breasts. She wouldn’t want me to look, would she?

“Relax,” Dr. Stephanie intoned, “and just let your tired, weary eyes drift over to my necklace as I swing it back and forth for you. It’s so captivating. So easy to look at. So easy to hold your attention. Let go of your worries as you stare, and drift, and relax…”

The necklace swung in a perfect arc between her left and right breasts. If I was looking at the necklace—and I was—then I was also looking at her cleavage. A small part of me was worried, like that wasn’t right somehow… but Dr. Stephanie was telling me to let go of my worries. That’s what I was here for.

“It’s okay to relax and let your eyes focus where they want to” Dr. Stephanie was whispering. “Just listen to my voice and let go.”

No. That was wrong. It was unprofessional. It was… sexy. I was so relaxed, and yet, I felt my dick stirring in my pants as I kept watching the necklace, framed by her cleavage. Would she notice? Would she kick me out of her office? Her breasts looked so soft. I was so confused. I had to relax and let go of my worries… but not like this, surely?

I was staring at her cleavage openly now, barely even noticing as the necklace kept swinging in front of my vision, hypnotising my cares away as a war raged inside my head. Hypnotising… swaying… breasts… necklace… It was so hard to think. So hard… like my dick. My dick that shouldn’t be hard in someone else’s office.

Maybe I would have caved anyway. Maybe it was just too much for my anxiety, fighting on three fronts against Dr. Stephanie’s calming words, and her soft breasts, and my hard dick. I never got to find out. Instead, Dr. Stephanie seemed to notice the battle behind my eyes, and settled the argument decisively. I felt her arms, pulling me up to her. I felt her lips, softly kissing mine. I felt my mind go completely, blissfully blank.

She let me go and murmured “sleeeeeeeep”. I felt the word bouncing around the inside of my head, taking over my brain, filling it with sleep. My thoughts became sleep. My desires became sleep. My decisions became sleep. I felt her guide my head towards her. My face landed somewhere warm, soft, sexy, and I slept.

“... and wake up. Welcome back, Bruce.”

It was a little easier now, knowing what to expect. I opened my eyes slowly and took stock.

“Whew, I needed that” I breathed. “Thanks, Stephanie. Whatever mojo you’re doing is working.”

Stephanie grinned at me. “We made some good progress today. Tell me, how do you feel right now, in general?”

“Pretty great” I admitted.

Stephanie watched me carefully, “And how do you feel about the fact that, as you were hypnotised this session, you fell asleep on my breasts?”

“Ummm,” I felt my mind shift gears, trying to cope with something that should have, would have spiked my anxiety. Today, though, it just wasn’t coming. I settled on “I’m not sure. How did you feel about it?”

“I don’t mind it at all” she beamed. “And how do you feel about the fact that I kissed you to trigger your trance?”

Another difficult question. Was she testing me? She must be, and if I lied that would screw up my whole treatment. I closed my eyes, swallowed my pride and blurted “I enjoyed it.”

Stephanie raised an eyebrow. She had been making notes on the same clipboard for all of our sessions so far, but for that answer she reached for a different clipboard I hadn’t noticed before, and wrote something on that one instead. She continued, “And you don’t find anything strange about me kissing you in this setting?”

I scratched my head. “Uh, well, I guess I wouldn’t expect it, but you seem to know what you’re doing. If you think it’s a good idea, I’m not going to argue.”

“Excellent” Stephanie replied, and there was a twinkle in her eye now. “Were you turned on when I kissed you?”

I could feel the anxious part of my brain screaming not to answer, not to embarrass myself, but I shoved it down. I was going to pass this test. “Yes. Yes I was” I said, trying not to lower my eyes.

“See?” Stephanie laughed. “How easy was that?”

“Difficult actually,” I admitted, “but it feels a lot better now that it’s out there.”

Stephanie stroked my face with her hand, then leaned in so her face was close to mine. Very close.

“Let’s try something else” she whispered. “How do you feel about the fact that your penis is hard in your pants right now?”

I had barely even noticed it until she said it, but she was right. I was harder than I’d ever been, and it would be impossible for me to walk out of the building without the whole world noticing. This was not an angle I’d expected her to take.

“Embarrassed” I said, softly and honestly.

“Why?”

“You probably think I’m some kind of—”

“Shhhhhshhshhshh,” Stephanie gently chided me, kissing me before I could get another word out, “you don’t know how I feel about this yet.” Another kiss. I already couldn’t remember what I’d been saying.

“Remember how you dealt with this before” she said.

“Ummmm,” my brain took a while to string the words together, “how do you feel about it?”

“Well,” Stephanie titled her head in thought, “we were just talking about me kissing you. You said that made you feel good. Before that, we were talking about my breasts, and I think you noticed them as I was hypnotising you as well. Am I right?”

I nodded, feeling caught out. She continued “And now you have a very obvious erection as a result of all this. I’d have to say that I’m flattered.” She winked, “A lady likes to feel attractive.”

Her responses were only making dick even harder against my pants. It only got worse when she bit her lip in thought, reminding me of her kisses, the feeling of her tongue slyly brushing against mine… had her tongue been in my mouth?

“Hmmm,” she mused, “I wonder. If you enjoy my kisses so much, and you already have such a strong erection from this experience, do you think you might have an orgasm if I continued to kiss you right now?”

She had me dead to rights, and I thought she knew it too. “Yes” I croaked, not even trying to hide it behind a ‘maybe’ or a ‘but’.

She leaned in close, very close. Her face was practically touching mine. “Would that make you feel embarrassed?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“And if I told you that I wasn’t offended at all” Stephanie pressed, her voice husky and seductive, “would you still be embarrassed?”

This needed more brainpower than I had the bloodflow for. “I… yes, I think” I tried eventually.

“Why?” she asked.

Fuck! Why did I have to do so much thinking at a time like this! I was nose-to-nose, practically lip-to-lip with a beautiful woman and so horny that I could explode… but I still didn’t want it. Not in my pants.

“It would make a mess” I said lamely. “I don’t want to get my clothes dirty. Even if you weren’t around, it—”

“Ahhhhh,” Stephanie snapped her fingers, “so we’ve found something that’s embarrassing to you for your sake, not for anyone else’s.“

My head cleared a little when I realised what she was saying. “Huh… damn.” I mumbled.

She leaned back in, as close as she’d been before. I was paralysed, afraid that this moment would end if I breathed wrong. Her lips touched mine, and as she spoke I could feel them moving. I ached to kiss her again properly.

She murmured “As for me, I don’t mind if you stare at my breasts during our appointments. I don’t mind if you stare at my lips during our appointments. But I decide if and when I will lay your head on my breasts for you to sleep, and I decide if and when I will kiss you. Clear?”

I swallowed nervously. “Clear, D- uhh, Stephanie.”

She pursed her lips into a kiss, a short peck that left me feeling dizzy, before lifting her face off mine for good.

“And that, I’m afraid, is the end of our session today, Bruce.”

I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed. More to the point, my dick was still hard and it definitely wasn’t in a hurry to go down. “Um… what do you suggest I do about…?” I trailed off, gesturing towards it helplessly.

“I’ll leave that in your capable hands” she winked. “See you next week!”

Next week I was back again, and Stephanie was already waiting next to the couch with her necklace out, even more cleavage on display. I sat down. It seemed like the right thing to do.

The process was the same. She hypnotised me with the necklace, and this time I was ogling her breasts with no shame. Somehow it didn’t quite work, until she brought her amazing lips into it. I didn’t remember if she’d always kissed me to finish me off, but she certainly did this time.

I woke up, as usual, to find her smiling down at me.

“Welcome back, Bruce. How do you feel?”

I hoisted myself onto my elbows. “Fantastic as always, Stephanie. What did we talk about this time?”

“We are exploring all possible triggers for your anxiety” Stephanie explained. “This session, we’re exploring your self-confidence in your own body. That’s why you’re naked right now.”

I blinked and looked down. It was true, I wasn’t wearing a thing. My dick was making itself known, sticking up like a flagpole. It felt strange, but also… liberating.

Stephanie’s soothing voice cut across my thoughts, “How do you feel knowing you’re completely naked in front of me? Just say whatever comes into your mind.”

I couldn’t stop the words from coming, “So horny I think I could explode. I wish I’d done a little, uh, trimming downstairs, and it doesn’t feel very professional—”

“That’s good Bruce, very good” Stephanie soothed. “Don’t forget, this is an environment where you are free to be entirely yourself. Losing any anxiety you have about being naked will definitely help solve your overall issues, so I think it would be best if you spent our sessions naked from now on.”

There was something not quite right about that, but then she leaned in and kissed me gently, and my worries disappeared again.

“Agreed?” she said, before my brain had a chance to catch up.

“Agreed” I blurted. It was a few seconds before I remembered that I’d just agreed to be naked in front of her for all our sessions. Well, that was fine, wasn’t it?

“Good” Stephanie cooed. She pulled back, and blatantly eyed my dick. It was just as hard as it had been last week. The attention only made it harder, if that was possible.

“Let’s continue from what we learned last week” she spoke softly. “Remember that you must answer honestly. I make your penis hard, don’t I?”

“Yes” I confirmed, barely any hesitation there.

“And you’re not embarrassed anymore about having an erection in front of me, are you?”

“No.”

“You like it when I kiss you, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“When your penis is this hard, would you be able to reach orgasm just from feeling my kisses?”

“Yes” I trembled, too horny to think.

“What about my hand?” she whispered, placing a soft, gentle hand on my dick. My hips jerked instinctively. “Does my hand on your penis make you want to orgasm?”

It didn’t even occur to me that she hadn’t asked for permission to do this. If she thought it was necessary, then it was necessary. “Yesss” I groaned.

“And if you like my lips so much” she continued, “then would you like to see them kissing a different part of you?”

She’d barely finished her sentence before my hips had jerked uncontrollably into her gently stroking hand, picturing exactly what she’d said. “Yes,” I gasped, “yes, please—”

“Ah! But!” she interrupted sternly, withdrawing her hand so that I was thrusting against nothing. I couldn’t hold back a whimper.

“You said you’d be embarrassed to orgasm last time. You said it would make a mess” she reminded me. She slipped back into her gentler tone as she placed her hand back on my dick, which had only just come down from the edge. “Think about the mess you would make now, with your pants gone completely. Even if you knew I was fine with it, would you still be embarrassed?”

The couch. The carpet. The chair. She was right. There was no way I could avoid spraying my cum onto any one of them. “Yes” I admitted miserably.

“Well then,” she concluded, “I can think of only one option. You must give me control of your orgasms.”

I was breathless, and could barely get a word out. “Control…?”

Stephanie traced a finger teasingly up my shaft. “I’ll hypnotise you so you won’t be able to orgasm unless I tell you to, and then I can make sure you never get there at an unfortunate moment.”

She kissed me, and I groaned against her onslaught, my mind blank and my dick right on the edge of cumming.

“That sounds good, doesn’t it?” she murmured as she pulled back, her lips still only millimetres from mine. She continued pressing gentle smooches to my lips while I tried to form an answer.

Thinking was absolutely impossible. There was no way to resist. No way to deny her what she was asking of me. “Yes” I grunted. “Please. Do it.”

She kissed me one more time, and whispered “Sleeeep.”

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that I was still naked, and my dick was sore, but in a nice way. I glanced around. No obvious mess. Weird, it was like I’d cum, but…

Stephanie interrupted my train of thought. “It worked!” she grinned. There was a sparkle in her eyes that suggested she was very, very happy with me, for a reason I couldn’t place.

I was instantly relieved. “Oh, good! Erm… so how often will I be able to—”

“Orgasm?” Stephanie laughed, “Whenever I say you can, of course. Do you think you could go without for a week?”

…That was a long time. “I, uh, well I can try—“

Stephane said “I have some theories to test, regarding your anxiety having a psychosexual basis, and if I’m right… actually, whether I’m right or not, I can promise you it will be well worth it.” She winked at me.

Well, I couldn’t refuse when she put it like that. “I do have one more question” I ventured.

“Yes?”

I fought down my anxiety about asking such a question. “Did I … did I cum today?”

Stephanie looked at me with deep, piercing eyes. “Do you feel like you had an orgasm?”

“Well, yes” I mumbled.

“Do you remember having an orgasm?”

“No”

“Do you feel in some way cheated because you might have had an orgasm while you were hypnotised but you don’t remember it?”

“Yes.”

“Is that the only thing that bothers you about this?”

“Umm,” I racked my brains trying to think of anything else that could be bothering me, “... yes.”

“Well then,” Stephanie concluded, “since you’ve been such a good boy for me this session, I might leave you a present tonight. Keep your phone close by.” She fished her own phone out of her pocket and winked, tapping it suggestively. “But afterwards, a week of no orgasms and we’ll see what we can find out from that in the next session.”

She kissed me. “Deal?”

My head swimming from the kiss, all I could say was “Deal.”

She continued to kiss me before I got dressed and left. It didn’t serve any therapeutic purpose that I could tell, but I went along with it. Stephanie decided when she would kiss me. That was the rule.

That night, I was hard again. I resisted the urge to jack off, knowing I wouldn’t be able to cum if I did so. Stephanie had ordered me not to cum, so I couldn’t. I shook it off and tried to sleep.

Just as I was drifting off, my phone buzzed. It was from a number known only as “Mistress”. I didn’t- why would I make a phone contact like that? Was this Stephanie’s message that she’d promised earlier? Was her contact name some kind of joke?

Enjoy. And remember to forget ;)

I blinked in confusion. There was a picture attached. I downloaded it.

Stephanie was lying, completely naked, on the couch in her office. With one outstretched arm she was holding the camera so that I had a perfect view. Her breasts were smushed gently against the cushions beneath her, forming them into a dizzying cleavage that was soft, warm, and round. Her legs were slightly splayed, feet pointing up, which gave her a teasing, laid-back air, and also emphasised the curve of her glorious ass. I’d never taken the time to check out her ass before, and now I was regretting it and making up for lost time all at once.

But the sexiest part was undoubtedly her lips, which were pouting, gently kissing the head of a dick. I realised with a shock that it was my dick. She must have taken this picture while I was hypnotised on her couch today. Or was it even today? I couldn’t tell, and right then, I didn’t care. I was already furiously jacking myself off with my other hand.

Stephanie had kissed my dick with those amazing, sexy lips of hers while I was hypnotised. The image was burning itself into my brain, the mere thought too hot to handle. Was this how I’d cum earlier? Did she do more than this? Was she going to do it again? Would I get to be awake next time? The questions all whirled in my head, but none of them mattered next to Stephanie’s amazing lips kissing my hard, hypnotised dick-

I threw aside the phone and barely managed to swipe some tissues out of a box before I came explosively, harder than I ever had in my life. I had hoped to last a bit longer, since this would be my last one for a week, but Stephanie was far too sexy. Whatever cum I had left in my balls poured out as I feverishly imagined it landing somewhere nicer, like Stephanie’s mouth, or her tits, or her… anything. At last, I sighed and toppled back onto the bed, feeling too good to move for anything. I drifted off to sleep, trying to remember… oh yes. I needed to forget. Remember to forget. Remember to forget…

I was groggy in the morning, opening my eyes reluctantly as the sun became too much to ignore. Did I cum last night? Must have. It sure felt like it. I guess I was dreaming of Stephanie and I woke up to jack off. Yeah. That must be it.

I was back in Stephanie’s office, and I was naked again. Stephanie’s eyes had roamed over me as I undressed. I felt judged, but definitely not in a bad way. That was something. I told her this, and she smiled.

“Well, this time I wanted to test my theory that there could be a sexual aspect to your anxiety” she said slyly. “Performance issues, that sort of thing.”

“I, um,” I stammered, trying not to be shy about it, “I’ve never had any complaints—”

She kissed me, long and deep. “We should test it out. Make sure you don’t have any hangups about pleasing women, that sort of thing. Do you know how to eat out a woman?”

“I… I’ve never really tried—”

Another long kiss. I clearly wasn’t going to be thinking with my brain today. “You should learn” Stephanie murmured. “Would you like me to hypnotise you first, so you can absorb the information better?”

I had no objections.

“I think perhaps the necklace isn’t necessary anymore,” she husked, “you prefer it when I kiss you into a trance anyway, don’t you?”

“Yeah!” I admitted eagerly. “Um… how does that work, anyway?”

“I have no idea,” Stephanie laughed, “I just know that my kisses can hypnotise you. And you know it too.”

I nodded, bracing myself for impact.

The impact was soft, warm, gentle, heavenly. My thoughts vanished as she kissed me to sleep.

When I woke up, I suddenly realised that I loved the taste of pussy. Not that I’d ever tasted it properly before. But I knew I would if I tried it.

“Mistress Stephanie,” I murmured, rubbing my eyes as I sat up, “may I please, um, lick your pussy?” It seemed right to call her Mistress now. She controlled when I could cum, after all. It was only fair.

“Of course you may,” Mistress Stephanie purred. She was wearing a long, flowing red skirt, and as she hoisted it above her waist I saw she wasn’t wearing panties underneath. Did she ditch them while I was hypnotised, or had she not bothered today, knowing how this session would go?

She swung her right leg over the arm of the couch, and lowered her pussy onto my face. Her skirt covered me like a blanket. I could see nothing but her pussy, and I realised I liked it that way. I licked, and it tasted divine.

“Can you hear me?” Mistress Stephanie’s voice drifted down from somewhere above.

“Yes Mistress” I mumbled, continuing to lick.

“Gooood boy,” she sighed, “let me teach you how to work that tongue…”

Under her careful instruction, I learned how to lick, kiss, nibble, and rub my face against her pussy to give her the most pleasure. I learned the different places I could lick, how sensitive they were, and how to keep my teeth out of the way as she ground herself on my face. How to breathe through my nose so I didn’t have to stop for anything. How to relax, obey, and put her pleasure first.

Eventually she stopped giving new instructions, so I just laid there and continued to lick as she gently rode my face. I couldn’t tell how long we stayed like that—might have been 15 minutes, might have been an hour. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except pleasing Mistress Stephanie. My only clue that time was passing was the times when her thighs squeezed my head as she reached a peak, maybe came once or twice, but I quickly lost track of those too.

Eventually, after a blissful eternity of licking her, Mistress Stephanie raised herself off my face, and lowered herself onto my dick. Her pussy felt as incredible as it had tasted, and I groaned in relief as I was allowed to bury myself inside her heat for the first time. At least, the first time that I could remember. She slid slowly up and down my length, taking her time to ensure I was as hard as I could get.

Through the haze of pleasure I heard her sighing “Oh, yes. Oh fuck, I knew I’d chosen well. Good boy, keep going. We need to check every aspect of your sexual performance, very thoroughly. Make sure you don’t cum.“

I groaned and felt my eyes crossing as she rode me faster, and my dick got even harder. I was so close. But I knew, somewhere deep down, I wouldn’t get there. Mistress Stephanie had ordered me not to cum, and that was that. So instead of fighting to hold back, I relaxed and let go, and found to my amazement that instead of cumming, my dick reached a kind of plateau of hardness. I was back off the edge, despite the delicious, coaxing, squeezing motions of her pussy, and I could focus on her pleasure again, like I was meant to. Not that Mistress Stephanie needed my input—apart from my dick, the only real use she was getting out of my body right now was her hand on my chest, which was mostly for support, and a little bit so she could tease one of my nipples. So I concentrated on thrusting my hips with what small leverage I had, trying to find new and interesting angles to thrust inside her, or for her to sink down onto me.

Apparently I found a good one, because she opened her eyes and gasped “Oooh, yes, that’s it! That’s so good. I’m definitely keeping you. Oh, fuck yes. You’re going to make me cum again, and again—”

She slammed her hips onto me and let out a loud, sensual moan that meant she was, indeed, cumming again. She rode it out, and unable to cum myself, I was effectively her own personal sex toy, my only purpose to fill her as deeply as I could.

The reserved and dignified Dr. Stephanie I had met for that first appointment was long gone. She leaned back so that my dick was pointing straight up, and as she shuddered with pleasure, I realised I was all the way inside her. She went vertical, one hand on my chest and another against the head of the couch, throwing back her head and moaning as she fucked me. One orgasm bled into another, and another.

Finally, she had had enough, relaxing as the waves of pleasure crashing through her—and spilling over onto me—died down. She leaned into me, nuzzling my face and neck with soft, sweet kisses that made my head go fuzzy. I knew there was no point in fighting, so I relaxed and let it happen.

“I think it’s safe to say,” Mistress Stephanie husked, quite out of breath, “that we can rule out your sexual performance. Absolutely no problems in that department. None at all.”

Rule it out? What did that mean?... Oh right, the anxiety.

“To… truly determine the cause,” she continued, “it may take many more sessions. I think we should see each other more often. Say, three times a week for the next few months?”

I blinked, “Uh, I’m sorry to say, Mistress, but I only have 10 appointments on my healthcare plan before—”

“Oh, hush,” she smiled, kissing me deeply, “I will take you on as my patient for free. No charge.”

“Really?” I half-pleaded, hardly daring to believe my luck.

“Of course!” she soothed, stroking my beard tenderly. “I can’t just let your anxiety go unsolved, especially not after that.” She licked her lips. “It would be… unprofessional. And unfair.“

I was in no state to comment on what was or wasn’t professional, but as for unfair… “What do you get out of it then, if you can’t get paid for it?” I tried.

Mistress Stephanie laughed, “Really? I thought that was obvious.” She squeezed her pussy around me to make her point. “I get my very own sex slave. Does that sound reasonable to you?”

I was ecstatic, “Of course, Mistress! Thank you, Mistress!”

She finally raised herself off me, and whispered “I think from now on, when we’re alone, I’ll call you Slave Bruce. That’s okay isn’t it?”

I nodded eagerly, and she said “I thought so. Well Slave Bruce, you’ve been a very good boy for me today, so you can expect to be rewarded tonight… and maybe tomorrow as well” she smirked.

“And then of course, you’ll see me again in two days’ time” she concluded, and I suddenly realised we were wrapping up the session.

“Yes Mistress” I responded automatically, thinking about how to juggle it with work commitments. For Mistress Stephanie, I could.

“Good boy” she beamed, kissing me one last time.

Our sessions continued in that vein for a while. Mistress Stephanie would hypnotise me with her wonderful kisses, then she would ride my tongue or my dick—or both—until she was satisfied. If I was a good sex slave for her, which was most of the time, she would let me cum later, once I was well away from her office, by sending me a sexy picture she took while I was out. I was never allowed to remember the picture itself, just that I had cum for her. The rest of the session was us working through my anxiety. That came after the sex or before it, whichever she preferred, but either way we got around to it eventually.

I don’t know if I would ever have considered being a sex slave before meeting Mistress Stephanie. I’d never really thought about it. It’s one of those ‘What? No, don’t be stupid’ ideas that you instinctively reject because you think you have to. But now that I was living it… yeah, I couldn’t cum at all without the express permission of my Mistress, but I’d never been happier in my life! She was glad to hear this, and sometimes wrote down my thoughts about it in that other clipboard of hers.

“You should advertise this,” I joked at one point, “one of those late night TV ads maybe. ‘Consult your doctor: see if sex slavery is right for you!’”

“I’m thinking about it” she grinned.

And wouldn’t you know it, we did eventually get to the bottom of my anxiety! I realised, through a haze of sex and pussy worship, that my sessions with Mistress Stephanie had left me more chilled out than I’d ever been in my life, and that made me realise a lot of my old behaviour was not something I needed to do, and never had. Everything worked out for the best!

Mistress Stephanie still insisted on seeing me, of course, but once I’d cleared that hurdle, she allowed me to go out into the world and start recommending her services to any of my friends who would listen. I did so eagerly, because everyone deserved a chance to be hypnotised by her kisses. And if they were very lucky, they’d end up just like me!