The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I woke up feeling better than I had in a long time. Last night had been fantastic. Everyone said sex was always the first thing to drop off when you settled down into the routine of marriage, but we had put that idea to bed, literally. Hannah, my lovely wife, was not only the most beautiful woman in the world—with her long, silky black hair, dazzling blue eyes, and of course her irresistible smile—but underneath the surface she was an animal in bed. Her lithe and supple body could manage just about any position, a fact she was happy to take advantage of, and I was happy to reap the rewards from.

After basking for some time in the memory of her luscious lips wrapped around my cock, I finally levered myself out of bed, and found Hannah in the kitchen, washing dishes. She noticed me entering, but kept her back to me.

“Honey…” she began.

My spine straightened, instinctively. “Is something wrong?” I tried.

“Well… last night was great, but I… I don’t think I can do it again.”

The bottom dropped out of my stomach. “What?! Why not?”

“I think…” she stalled, then the words came out in a rush. “I think I’m losing my sex drive.”

Fuck. No. This couldn’t be happening. Right when I was gloating to myself about putting my fears of a sexless marriage to bed, I was staring down the barrel. I couldn’t think of what to say, or how to say it. “...Are you sure?” I managed.

She just hung her head and nodded. “It’s nothing you’ve done, it just sort of… happened. I’m not as easily aroused as I used to be.”

I folded my arms around her protectively, lovingly. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do to try and get it back?”

She fidgeted, breaking away from me to gather her thoughts. “Maybe. If I went to therapy or something like that, I could see how I felt.”

“I’ll support you every step of the way” I promised.

“Thanks” she murmured, resting her head against my shoulder.

A thought nagged at the back of my mind. I trusted my Hannah, of course, but this would be, well, sex therapy. I couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting her to a man in that context. Who knew how many of them would be lecherous about it?

“I suppose,” I said, “it might be best if you were to see a woman about your problem?”

Hannah thought about this for a while.

“Yes,” she said, “I think so, too.”

It didn’t take long for us to find someone. Not a dedicated sex therapist, but Hannah took particular note of the comments from women who said she’d improved their relationships out of sight. That was good enough for me. I wanted to come with her, since it was my sex life too, but the therapist—Stephanie, she said her name was—had insisted on seeing only my wife first.

On the day of the appointment, I’d just put the finishing touches on a presentation for an upcoming project, when Hannah called.

“Hi gorgeous!” I answered. “How was your appointment?”

“Hey honey” my wife answered. “I just got out of it. It was… interesting.”

“Oh? Interesting how?”

“Erm,” Hannah was apparently fumbling for the right words, “Dr. Stephanie wants me to… well, we’re going to continue not having sex for a while.”

I knew it would be foolish to expect instant results from just one appointment, but this was still not welcome news. “How long is a while?” I managed, trying not to let my frustration show. It wasn’t her fault, after all.

“As long as it takes, she said” my wife replied simply.

I didn’t want to sound like I was pleading, but the thought of being unable to touch my lovely wife for God knows how long was unbearable. “Is there anything we can do?”

There was a pause, then she said “I’m allowed to kiss you.”

“If that’s what the doctor ordered,” I conceded.

We said our goodbyes, and I ruminated on this doctor’s so-called treatment plan. Nothing beyond kissing? How long would that last? Weeks? Months? It was depressing just to think about. I stewed in this feeling for the rest of the day, until it was radiating off me like a heat shimmer. This was not a good state to go home to my wife in.

“Fuck this,” I decided, “I need a drink.”

None of my friends were available to hang, which wasn’t too surprising. Fine by me. I wanted to be alone anyway, and this was what depressed husbands did when they were having marriage troubles, wasn’t it?

I was halfway through my fourth bourbon when I realised that this might not have been the best idea.

“Hey there, handsome” a smooth, seductive voice purred in my left ear, “what are you doing out drinking all by yourself?

I turned to find a curly-haired blonde woman doing a very creditable Marilyn Monroe impersonation, updated for the modern day with an even redder shade of lipstick and even more cleavage. Incredibly large cleavage. I found myself briefly wondering if they were natural.

“Nuh-nothing” I slurred a little, “jus’ not having a verrry good day.”

“Poor thing” she cooed. “Bad day at the office?”

“Nah,” I said, “bad day with the wife.”

Her mouth opened into a neat little ‘o’ of shock. “Oh no! Is she mad at you?”

“Not really, jus’ not looking forward to going home I guess” I replied.

“Empty bed?” she guessed.

“Might as well be” I grumbled.

She waited for me to finish my drink, then put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “A man like you doesn’t deserve to be lonely, in a cold, empty bed” she coaxed softly. “Maybe I could keep you company instead.”

I blinked, and for the first time, I really saw her. It took my brain a while to catch up, through the haze of misery and alcohol, but suddenly everything clicked. I knew exactly what she was here for, and I wanted no part of it. What kind of man would cheat on his wife? No man worthy of the name.

I had to get out, now. A cold, empty bed was better than this.

“I’m sorry” I blurted, standing up so fast that I knocked my glass to the side, “I think I should go. Home.”

I thought I saw her pout as I turned around and stumbled out the door.

My wife was nowhere to be seen when I finally got home, which suited me fine. Maybe I could get to bed without making more of a fool of myself. It’s not like I was blackout drunk or anything, but I was exhausted and drained on top of being tipsy. I managed to brush my teeth and collapse into bed, where the alcohol took over. I was dizzy and tired, not in the mood to move for anything.

I drifted in and out of consciousness. Sleep was fitful and my dreams were unusually vivid. I knew I must have been dreaming because one minute my wife was not there with me, then I blinked, and she was there. I blinked again and suddenly she was kissing me with sexy, soft lips, telling me to relax and sleep for her. Her kisses made my head swim, just like the alcohol. Was I still drunk even in my dreams?

I briefly wondered if this actually was a dream, and if not, maybe I should be waking myself up and kissing her back properly, but as I tried to focus and pull myself out of the dream, Hannah’s lips met mine again, and I found myself sort of… relaxing back into it. I got sleepier, and the dream got more vivid. Was that how it worked? It was too hard to think. Why would I be thinking anyway, when I could be having this wonderful sexy dream of kissing my wife? Relax. This is all just a dream. You don’t want to wake up. Did Hannah just say that? It was true though… I didn’t want to wake up…

My thoughts faded into a pleasant fog as Hannah kept kissing me. I knew it was a dream, because she kept whispering things into my ear. I couldn’t quite catch it, but I knew she couldn’t be talking and kissing at the same time. That proved it. Anything can happen in a dream. None of this was real. I could just relax and surrender. My brain would hear things my ears would forget. That made sense. Of course it did.

I just needed to forget about it and sleep for her lips.

Sleep for her lips.

Sle…

Hello?

…

Dr. Stephanie, it’s me.

…

I think I’ve managed it already.

…

He was already sleepy and clearly a bit drunk, so I just did what we talked about. I know it’s sooner than you recommended-

…

The recording worked like a charm, I’m just not sure what to do next.

…

Okay, okay, I’ll try it. I can do this.

…

Listen carefully to me now, Jacob.

…

I dragged my worn-out body through the front door, and felt the oddest sense of deja vu. I’d gotten drunk last night hadn’t I? Maybe this was the same sorry state I’d been in then. I must have had way more than I remembered, cause I’d certainly felt it this morning. Slept right through my alarm, and barely got myself to work on time. Battled a hangover the whole way.

Of course, reminding myself that I’d drunk myself into an apparent coma reminded me in turn of why I was out drinking last night at all. Hannah had gone to a shrink to see about her sex drive, and the shrink had recommended she stop having sex. What kind of sense did that make, I wondered to myself. I would very sorely like to meet this “Dr. Stephanie” and tell her exactly what I thought … ah, but what was the point? That would only make things worse. I didn’t want to upset Hannah.

I frowned, musing on my best course of action as I scrubbed harder.

Wait, what?

I looked down. I had wandered into the kitchen. I was holding a scrubbing brush. Apparently I’d been washing dishes on autopilot while I was lost in thought. Wasn’t I too exhausted for this? I looked to the side of the sink, and saw that somehow, I was nearly finished, clean plates and pots stacked in neat rows along the draining board.

Somehow I felt… fine. It was like I could ignore how tired I was as long as I kept doing this. And since I could, I might as well keep going. Hannah would certainly be pleased, and it was important to please my wife.

The dishes were quickly done, and riding that wave of energy, I actually managed to vacuum the whole living room before my legs finally gave out. I packed everything away and collapsed into bed, completely drained. I wondered vaguely when my wife would be home. What did she have planned for today? Did she have a reason to go out?

Time floated past as I dozed. It was half an hour, maybe an hour later, when I heard the front door close. That must be Hannah.

“Jacob?” she called.

“Ummhere” I groaned, tiredly.

I heard her moving around the house, but not coming into the bedroom. I got the feeling that my earlier work was being judged.

Eventually she appeared in the doorway, beaming radiantly.

“That’s much, much better Jacob,” she purred, “see how much of an improvement that is?”

What did she mean by that? The house was a lot cleaner than before, but… well that was obvious, wasn’t it?

“Hurngh,” I grunted intelligently as I tried to prop myself up on my elbow, “I guess. Just don’t expect this every day, I’ve already worn myself out.”

“Well,” she grinned, a mischievous gleam in her eye, “Dr. Stephanie did say we could kiss, and you’ve definitely earned it.”

I wasn’t really in a state to properly enjoy my wife’s kisses, but I was hardly going to say no. I let her push me onto my back again as she straddled me, and I was thankful that we were both wearing clothes.

“And honey,” she shifted around a bit on top of me.

“I know, I know,” I held up my hands wearily, “no sex.”

“Well, yes, that,” she bit her lip, “but um, I also understand if you’re tired and want to just fall asleep like this.”

That seemed like an odd thing to say. What kind of man would fall asleep while kissing his wife? It’d be impossible to ignore, for one thing. But I couldn’t articulate that in my tired state, so I just gave a slight shrug and said “Yeah, sure, thanks honey.”

Her soft lips touched mine.

Days passed slowly, and hazily. One thing I could say was that I was full of energy at the start of every day, now, at least. Every day I went to work, came home, and before kicking my feet up, I would vacuum, or wash dishes, or clean the bathroom, or some other chore that needed doing. It was important for me to please Hannah before anything else, after all. This wore me out at first, and I could do nothing except have dinner and collapse into bed afterwards. Over time, however, it was like I got used to the routine, pushing myself to get everything done that needed doing. To be worthy of Hannah. At night, Hannah would reward me for my efforts by kissing me to sleep, and I would wake up the next morning, refreshed and ready to do it all again.

Maybe, I thought, I could start having sex with her again if I pleased her enough.

And yet, my frustration at my lack of sexual release continued to mount. One day, I decided I’d had enough. It wasn’t ideal, especially as a married man, but I’d have to take care of the problem myself. I’d never searched for porn—not since I met Hannah, anyway—but I had a decent idea of what kinds I would like. Didn’t every man? As soon as I’d finished the day’s chores, I sat down and started searching, a world of debauchery opening up before me. A feast for my eyes, and my poor, neglected dick. I hadn’t even chosen something to watch, but I was already pumping myself with one hand.

But somehow, it just wasn’t working for me. No matter how hard I stroked, no matter how sexy the models in the videos were, I just couldn’t get myself off to it. I knew it wasn’t real, that the point was to fantasise, but there was something missing.

Only my wife was enough to make me cum. Yeah, that was probably it. Nothing could compare to my wife.

Unfortunately, Hannah chose that moment to make her presence known, and she found me, still in front of my computer playing the hottest teacher/student porn I could find, with my pants around my ankles and one hand on my cock.

She froze. I froze.

“I, uh—” I stammered. I knew there was no real excuse for this.

“It’s alright” she said matter-of-factly. “I should have expected something like this would happen eventually.”

“But I—”

She turned to leave. “Get yourself cleaned up and wait for me in the bedroom,” she ordered, “I need to have a talk with Dr. Stephanie. I’ll join you when I’m done.”

I did so, embarrassed as hell. Hannah didn’t seem overly upset, but you just can’t tell with women sometimes. Not even when she’s your wife. It was tempting to snoop on her conversation with Dr. Stephanie, but I didn’t want to upset my wife. At least, not any more than I had done already. I waited in the bedroom for what seemed like ages. How long would this phone call take? What were they saying about me? I didn’t want to think about it.

Eventually Hannah reappeared, slipping quietly into the bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

“First of all, I’m not mad” she said softly. “Dr. Stephanie says you need permi—, er, you need to work out your urges from time to time. You could have been a little more discreet about it, but no matter.”

I sighed, practically deflating onto the bed as the built-up tension left me. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that” I admitted.

“Good…” she mused, a small smirk gracing the corners of her lips.

“So, what do we do now?” I asked.

“Lie back.” she instructed. “Keep your head propped up.”

I did so, curious what she had in mind.

“I will not touch you” she said, firmly. “But you can get yourself off while looking at me.”

“Um…” I wanted to protest at this, but couldn’t think of any good reason to.

She raised an eyebrow. “If you can get off to porn, surely you can get off thinking of your own wife?” she challenged me.

“Yes, yes, of course!” I replied, hastily unbuckling my pants again and slipping them off. I exposed my cock to her for the first time in what felt like forever, and she raised an eyebrow again, noting how red it was right now. Maybe I was a bit too rough earlier.

Wordlessly, she slipped out of her clothes, and she was naked in front of me. Again, it had been far too long. I suddenly realised that I could live with this arrangement, for now. I wasn’t lying about her being better than porn. Instinctively, I reached down and started stroking myself again.

“Sooo,” she purred, running her hands all over her body, “was porn anything like you hoped it would be?”

I was having trouble thinking. My cock might have been sore, but it was coming back to life very quickly. At this rate I wouldn’t last long. “Uh,” I grunted, “not even close.”

She placed one foot on the bed, parting her thighs just enough that I could see her delicious pussy. Had I ever thought of it as ‘delicious’ before? It was hard to care right now.

“Were those girls as sexy as I am?” she pressed on.

“No, nowhere near.” She may have only been talking dirty, but for some reason it was driving me crazy. I wasn’t far away.

“Only I am sexy enough to make you cum” she said, bouncing her tits enticingly in front of my face.

“Only you are sexy enough to make me cum” I repeated.

“Use both hands” she instructed.

I wrapped my other hand around my cock. I’d rarely done it like this before, but it was what Hannah wanted, so how could I refuse? The thought that my body was effectively immobilised in this position, unable to move except for jerking off, was submerged under my urgent, all-consuming need to cum.

Seeing that I couldn’t move, and that my head was at an awkward angle to keep looking at her without a hand to prop myself up, Hannah switched tactics. She abandoned the posing altogether and crawled up onto the bed beside me. She was still completely naked, but I couldn’t touch her. She’d told me to use both hands.

“Close your eyes” she whispered seductively in my ear, “and imagine your hands are my warm, wet pussy. Imagine sliding your cock into my pussy with every stroke.”

I groaned loudly, trying to signal without words that I was close. Too close.

“I know, darling, you want to cum soooo badly” Hannah cooed. “But you can’t, you mustn’t, until I say so. Understand?”

I nodded, eager to please her so she would give me permission.

She trailed her tongue over my ear, drawing a pleading whimper from me, as she whispered “Feel my pussy squeezing your cock, just the way I know you like.”

I felt it, God help me, somehow I felt it. It was as if she really was riding my cock at that moment. I’d completely forgotten that it was my hands, or that it was supposedly a completely voluntary action on my part. “Oh God Hannah, please,” I babbled, “please let me cum!”

Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw her bite her lip thoughtfully as she observed my current state. “Hmmm,” she mused, “so you’re unable to cum until I say so, but you’re also unable to hold back, just from thinking about my pussy. It looks like you’re completely helpless.” She raised herself up so that I could see all of her again, and she jiggled her tits in front of my eyes again.

“You can’t control yourself” she said.

“Uhuh!”

“You are helplessly aroused by me.”

“Uhuh!”

“My tits and my pussy are controlling your cock.”

“Yes,” I said, “yes, yes, please—”

She cradled my head in her hands and kissed me with her soft lips.

“Cum for me” she commanded.

I groaned, utterly spellbound, my legs thrashing against the bed as I came violently, mindlessly, helplessly. I could feel my own sperm pooling in places on my torso, but I didn’t care about anything but the pleasure, as the tension of weeks of no sex was finally released.

As I lay there, dazed and completely drained, I heard her whisper “Sleep for my lips.”

I blinked. Had I fallen asleep? Hannah was still looking down at me with a sly smile on her face.

“Was that good for you?” she teased. “Get yourself cleaned up. The bedclothes will need washing tomorrow, too.”

“Yes Hannah” I grunted, levering myself off the bed chest-first.

I took a very thorough shower to clean up. I was very sticky, and for the first time I wondered if this was how it felt for Hannah when I came on her. I should always consider my wife’s needs and feelings.

But an orgasm was an orgasm, and after I was clean I went to sleep with a blissful smile on my face.

The following day, I didn’t have to work. Hannah was out at another appointment with Dr. Stephanie, so I busied myself by doing the laundry, like I needed to.

While it was drying, I sat, and thought about what to do with the rest of my day. What would please Hannah? I needed to show my appreciation for last night somehow.

I should cook something nice for Hannah.

Cooking? But I had no idea how to cook. I had the weirdest ideas sometimes.

Then again… I had time left in the day. I could learn. Maybe I wouldn’t become a restaurant chef overnight, but I could surely learn to cook one nice meal at least. The only question was what. I could probably make, like, spaghetti and meatballs or a roast or something, but I had to consider my wife’s feelings. What would she enjoy?

A memory I didn’t know I had chose that moment to resurface.

‘You look beautiful in that dress tonight. Well, to be fair you look good in anything, any night.’

‘Stoopppp, you’re making me blush already.’

‘And that’s a lovely look on you, too—’

‘Madam, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’ve run out of eggplant parmigiana. Would you like to order something else?’

‘Oh… that’s okay, I’ll just have a chicken salad then.’

I frowned thoughtfully, then pulled out my phone and started looking up recipes.

“Mmm, that smells delicious,” sang Hannah as she entered the house, “what is that?“

“Um, our second date” I babbled distractedly, checking the oven for the umpteenth time, “you wanted eggplant parmigiana, and they didn’t have any, so I was thinking of ways to thank you for last night—”

“Oh honey,” Hannah threw her arms around me, “you made eggplant parmigiana for me? That’s wonderful! I’m so happy with you.”

It felt good to make Hannah happy. I was suddenly aware that my pants were very tight. Hannah noticed too, and looked down, eyebrow raised.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, “I understand if you don’t want to repeat last night immediately, it’s just—”

“Hush,” she kissed me softly, driving my apologies away, “not now. Maybe another night.”

I beamed, content with the knowledge that I’d pleased her. Sex could wait.

“I have some good news though!” she added. “I talked to Dr. Stephanie, and she’s agreed that I can start bringing you to sessions with me.”

I was delighted. That must mean that she was making progress. That I could help her make progress!

“I’d be happy to!” I exclaimed.

I would have embraced her, but I was interrupted by the oven telling me that dinner was ready. My wife made herself scarce, and I got ready to serve.

Hmm. Ready to serve. There was something oddly appealing about that idea.

The week passed at an agonisingly slow pace. Every day was a new adventure in household cleaning, every meal a new adventure in cooking. But I was only allowed to cum one more time, the night before our appointment, and that was with the condition that I be on my best behaviour for Dr. Stephanie. Her sly, seductive whisper in my ear about how her pussy was controlling my cock proved too much to resist combined with my pent-up lust, so I agreed. I ended up on my back again, jerking off with both hands as she kept commanding me to submit and obey. I had no idea where she’d learned that kind of dirty talk, but I wasn’t complaining.

Finally, it was the day of the appointment. I wasn’t entirely sure what I expected Dr. Stephanie’s office to look like, but it was a lot less New-Age-y than I’d expected. Apart from the couch, this could have passed for a regular office, albeit a rather cozy one, out of the way on the tenth floor of a building.

Dr. Stephanie Thorpe was, in a word, stunning, with chestnut brown hair that shone brilliantly in the sun, and full, cherry-red lips. It was difficult not to let my jaw hit the floor. She was almost intimidatingly attractive, but she seemed to know it, and offset it with a warm, welcoming smile.

“Hello,” she began as she stood up and offered her hand, “you must be Jacob”

“I am,” I shook it gladly, “and you must be Dr. Stephanie.”

“I am very interested to hear your perspective on things as they’ve developed over the past few weeks” she replied, gesturing to the sofa. “Please sit down, both of you.”

We sat.

“I should tell you both now that you’re here to work through things, not argue about them” Stephanie reminded us, soothingly. “It is normal to hear things from your partner in these kinds of sessions that make you feel uncomfortable or angry, but lashing out is not the answer. Is that clear?”

“Clear” we parrotted at the same time.

“So Jacob,” Dr. Stephanie purred, gazing directly into my eyes, “how do you feel right now?”

“I feel great!” I exclaimed.

“How do you feel about your wife, in a general sense?”

“She is the most wonderful person in the world,” I replied, “and I want to please her.”

“What was it like to go for all this time without being able to touch your wife in all the ways you would like to?”

“Frustrating,” I confessed, “but I didn’t want to upset Hannah so I tried to ignore it.”

“How did it feel to work out your urges in the way that we guided you to?”

“Um… amazing” I very nearly blushed. “It was like my wife was in total control of my cock.”

Dr. Stephanie grinned at that, for some reason. “Did you try finding erotica or pornography to assist you with these urges at any point?”

“Yes,” I admitted, “but only my wife could make me cum. It was like it didn’t count otherwise.”

“What was it like realising that you were spending your days doing a far greater number of household chores than you were used to?”

Man, this was like the easiest questionnaire I’d ever taken. I didn’t even need to think about the answers before I was giving them. “It was really tiring at first,” I said, “but I wanted to show that I could be worthy of Hannah, so I kept doing it.”

“I see” Dr. Stephanie smiled. “And do you think this experience might reflect a change in your attitudes towards sex and your relationship with your wife?”

“Well,” I replied, “I want to please her, and to always consider her needs and her feelings. I’ve learned that it feels good to make her happy, and to let her be in control.”

Dr. Stephanie raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by something. “Have you noticed anything unusual about your sleeping patterns or habits?”

My mouth moved automatically. “My brain hears things that my ears forget.” I looked around, puzzled. “Even if I’m not really sure what that means.”

Dr. Stephanie pulled back a bit, and shared a look with my wife. They were both grinning broadly.

“Well, I think that just about covers everything” Dr. Stephanie laughed.

“Agreed” my wife replied.

“Put him under” Dr. Stephanie ordered.

Before I could ask what they were talking about, my wife kissed me and said “Sleep for my lips.”

I slumped down on the couch, completely helpless even as a tiny part of my brain screamed “What is going on here?!”

So, is that it? That was Hannah’s voice…

Not quite. He still needs to accept this new reality, but he responds to all of his triggers, so for now at least he’s completely under your control. That was Dr. Stephanie. This was all a set-up? A conspiracy to control me?

For now?

Well, we can make it permanent in this session. For what it’s worth, the change so far has been remarkable, and everything I hoped it would be. I don’t mind telling you, you’ve given me some very valuable data to work with. And kissing men while they’re already asleep seems to be surprisingly effective. Thank you for the idea!

Oh no, thank you, Doctor. I can’t believe what a pig he was, and that I didn’t see it earlier.

Rose-tinted glasses make fools of us all.

I can’t even count the number of times I sucked him off, and for what? For him to say ‘oh, how soon can you get it back?’ when I tell him I’m losing my sex drive! I was just a trophy to him. A living sex doll.

I’m sorry. If it’s any comfort at all, you can close that chapter of your life today, one way or another.

Thank you, Dr. Stephanie, for teaching me how to respect myself. And for the mind control, of course.

You’re very welcome. Broadening your understanding of yourself was part of my mandate as your therapist. The mind control is more of a pet project.

This pet project of yours could improve so many husbands. Like, this one does chores! In a timely manner!

That’s the idea. Maybe not just limited to husbands, but men in all capacities. Now Hannah, I need you to leave, for a few minutes, so I can talk with Jacob.

Of course, Dr. Stephanie. You don’t think he’ll…

I really couldn’t say. You know him better than I do, and you’ve explored his mind under hypnosis. I will do my best.

“Jacob, can you hear me?”

It was Dr. Stephanie. She was addressing me, so I was allowed to listen properly, and talk back. “Yessss Dr. Stephanie” I slurred.

“You may not move until I tell you to. You may not raise your voice. You will obey any instructions I give you and answer all my questions honestly. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Dr. Stephanie.”

She snapped her fingers, and said “Wake up, and remember everything Hannah and I have done to you.”

It really was like waking up. All of a sudden I was here. I was the old me again. I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t raise my voice, but I could remember everything she’d done to me. Everything she’d put me through. The instructions that came to me in my sleep. The kiss-induced compulsions. The rank humiliation of it all.

“Bitch” I spat, with as much heat as I could muster from this position. “Stone-cold heartless bitch.“

If she was offended, she didn’t show it. “I suppose you’re wondering why I woke you up?” she continued, as though I hadn’t said anything at all.

“To rub it in?” I grumbled. “To gloat about turning me into… this? A slave for women’s pleasure?” There was no point in denying her victory; I knew it, and she knew it.

“Oh dear, Jacob,” Dr. Stephanie sighed, rubbing her temples, “what do you think of me? No, the truth is I released you from trance to give you a choice. You can stay and enjoy the delights of slavery to your lovely wife, or you can never tell anyone that this happened, but you can walk away from here and from your relationship as a free man.”

That threw me. The scale of whatever they’d cooked up for me was unthinkable, a real-life conspiracy, and… for what? To just let me go? I was instantly suspicious. “And why, for the sake of argument, would you do that?“

“The subconscious is a funny thing” Dr. Stephanie explained. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that the control we have you under is sexual in nature. It’s highly effective, but fundamentally you have to want it to work. Otherwise the subconscious just spends the rest of the time rebelling, seeking to break free somehow. It’s not completely impossible to keep an unwilling slave, but it is work that, frankly, Hannah doesn’t want to do. Besides, as a psychologist it is my duty to care for all patients I take on, and my care to you right now is showing you a modicum of mercy. I don’t believe you’ve earned it, perhaps even you don’t believe you’ve earned it, but mercy is not about who earns it. Mercy is what separates me from the, ah, ‘stone-cold heartless bitch’ you think I am. It separates me from you.“

Her words stung, and I fought back a wave of tears as I realised my fury was just as much guilt as actual anger. Like it or not, I’d learned a lot about what Hannah really wanted out of this relationship. What I’d failed to provide. It wasn’t like me to cry. It wasn’t.

In what she clearly thought was a reassuring manner, Dr. Stephanie stroked my shoulder and said “Believe it or not, most men who have come through my office and been offered the chance to be a sex slave have eagerly accepted it. I screen for certain kinds of people, of course, but even so.”

“How many have there been?” I croaked.

“Oh, a lady never kisses and tells,” Dr. Stephanie smiled knowingly, “I’ll say that it’s in the double digits at least. Interpret that how you will.”

Her smugness was infuriating. I tried to put my walls back up. “And suppose I say no to your generous offer of slavery?” I jabbed.

Her smile dropped, her tone became cold and matter-of-fact again. “Then you will walk out of here a free man, but you will never see Hannah again” she said simply.

Fuck. That was a powerful threat. “Are those my only two choices?” I protested, trying not to sound like I was pleading. “Freedom or sexual slavery?? That’s crazy!“

“Do you want to know what I think, Jacob?” Dr. Stephanie abruptly changed the subject.

“No,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes, “but you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Dr. Stephanie said “I think you’re a man who has been taught some very unhealthy beliefs due to your strongly religious upbringing. Even your name was chosen for its Biblical associations, and you’ve spent much of your childhood being taught to be a devout church-goer like the rest of your family and community.”

I shuddered, realising that Hannah had probably relayed to her everything I’d said under hypnosis. She had my life story.

“So,” Dr. Stephanie clapped her hands, “let’s start with sex. Now, I think you decided, perhaps after your first ever masturbation-induced orgasm, that sex exists for your pleasure. Then your church taught you that sex happens with a woman after marriage, and so you put those two concepts together. Ergo, the most important part of your marriage to you has always been the sex that Hannah gave you. How am I doing so far? And before you ask, I am going somewhere with this.“

I sighed. I’d never thought about it in those terms before, and by God she was good at making me sound like an asshole. “You’re… not wrong” I admitted grudgingly.

“Okay!” Dr. Stephanie continued, “and how do you think Hannah feels about your approach?”

“Uh, well,” I fumbled, “I always liked it, and she always liked doing it to me. I thought that was good enough.”

“That’s what you thought,” she pressed, “but you know differently now don’t you?“

I did. “She hates it” I admitted softly. “Why does she hate it?”

“Imagine if it were you” Dr. Stephanie said. “Imagine you loved someone enough to give your entire self to them every day, and they didn’t do a single thing for you in return. At least,” she added, “nothing that wasn’t also for their own benefit.”

“Ah” I mumbled. It was all I could say.

“So what we’ve done” she said gently, “is realign your priorities so that you get pleasure from pleasing her. Maybe you’ve never considered cunnilingus before, but you will now, because it would make her happy.“

A thought occurred to me. “If I’m her slave, what’s to stop her from abusing me?” I asked.

“That’s a fair question,” she mused, “but remember, I said that this mode of control is sexual, and your subconscious mind responds to that. Right now, Hannah has complete control over your arousal. You won’t be able to orgasm unless she allows you to—but she will, at some point, allow you to. If she doesn’t, if you’re no longer getting any kind of fulfillment out of this arrangement, her control over you will simply stop. You might think of this as a complete role reversal, but if anything I’ve made your relationship much more egalitarian. If you treat her well, you will get pleasure too. It’s as simple as that.“

“And the rest of the time, when we’re not having sex?” I glared.

“You will be, if I may say so, a much better husband” she replied severely.

“Well, that’s just great” I huffed, and lapsed into silence.

I’d intended to actually think about the decision I knew I’d have to make, but Dr. Stephanie pressed on. “Since we’re on the subject of your unhealthy beliefs, can we talk about your attitude towards feminism?” she asked.

I sighed. This was too much for one day, and Hannah had likely given her a cheat sheet for my subconscious anyway.

“You already seem to know all the answers,” I growled, “so just tell me.”

“Alright then. Your idea of what a husband should be is dependent on the judgement of the men around you, not the women” she replied matter-of-factly. “Feminist attitudes to sex and marriage are antithetical to you, because you don’t value any woman’s idea of what makes you a good man or a good husband, not even Hannah’s.“

I was floored. “But- but that’s ridiculous!” I protested. “That’s got nothing to do with it!”

“Really?” Dr. Stephanie said. “I invite you to consider—seriously consider—how you know you’re being a good husband. Where does the feedback come from?“

I racked my brains. There was the time that- uh, or the time that- no, wait. What about the-

It was like a curtain had lifted in my brain. I remembered my friends and I getting drunk, and they pressed me for details on the wedding night. High-fives all round. I remembered the speech James, my best man, had given at the wedding. And the other one from my uncle. I remembered the jeers from the boys when I told them I couldn’t come out one night, turning to cheers when I hinted there’d be sex involved-

What kind of man? I had asked myself that question constantly for years, like a background judgement call on my own behaviour. And suddenly I realised the extent to which I’d placed a yoke around my own neck.

“Oh, shit” I said softly.

Dr. Stephanie just looked at me, waiting.

“That was real, wasn’t it?” I asked her.

“What was real?” she said, a little curiously.

“What Hannah said about me, about our marriage, while I was under.” I stammered. “That was real. But like, it’s not a recent thing. It’s always been there, hasn’t it?”

Dr. Stephanie didn’t nod. She didn’t need to. “Did you perform it well?” she said.

“Whu?” I started.

Dr. Stephanie leaned forward, “You’re not married to any of those men, are you?”

“No, of course not!” I yelped, indignantly.

“And yet you saw the role they wanted you to perform, and you performed it admirably well, didn’t you?” she explained. “I don’t mean it had a positive impact on your relationship, I mean you met the criteria they set you.”

“I… I guess so” I mumbled, confused.

“So imagine,” she insisted, clasping one of my hands in hers, “how good a husband you could be if you started living up to her ideals, instead of the ideals of men you aren’t actually married to.“

I blinked. That… actually made some kind of sense. I knew the price of it, of course, but it was something. “And… nobody will think I’m some kind of sissy?” I ventured.

Dr. Stephanie took her hands away from mine, rubbing her temples wearily again. I knew I’d said the wrong thing, but I still needed to know the answer.

“I am not,” she sighed, “despite appearances, in charge of what other people say or think about you. I do know that there are many different ways to be a man. Almost all of those ways are pleasing to some people and offensive to others. Some men enjoy being a stud who pumps and unceremoniously dumps. Some enjoy being the kind of man women fall over themselves to marry. What kind of man do you want to be?“

“I… I want to be Hannah’s slave” I blurted out. I hadn’t meant to, it just sort of slipped out. And yet, now that it was out there it felt right.

Dr. Stephanie raised an eyebrow, “Well then, if that truly is your final decision, there’s no going back from it.”

“It is” I insisted. “But… wait a minute. Did you know all along that I’d choose to be her slave? Did you hypnotise me to come to this conclusion?”

She actually grinned at that, and replied “You just chose it of your own free will, I promise. I actually didn’t believe you would, I thought this would all end in tears. If you hadn’t demonstrated a total lack of desire to cheat on her, I might not even have tried.”

I laughed, and said “Thank you, doctor. Um, sorry I called you a bitch earlier.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment” she joked, her grin morphing into a sly smile. “And nobody could do what I do without being at least some kind of a bitch.“

She called Hannah back in, and when I saw her I practically threw myself at her feet, begging her forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry for how I treated you, I love you so much and I will happily be your slave—” I babbled, somewhere around her knees.

“Hush,” she soothed, stroking my hair, “it’s okay. Just sleep for my lips while Dr. Stephanie and I have a little chat about your future. Back onto the couch you go.”

I managed to stumble back onto the couch as my eyes slid shut. I drifted as I listened to them talking.

He’s all yours, now.

I really can’t thank you enough. So, what do I do next?

Well, you train him of course. And I’ll leave that part up to your personal tastes. The only thing you have to remember is to keep him coming back for more, but that should be no trouble since he’s already conditioned to orgasm from thinking about sex with you.

Suppose I put a collar and leash on him? To really complete the domme look?

As I say, up to you. I can recommend you a good adult toy shop if you need one.

Maybe you should set up your own business! You know, tame the husband, choose your preferred toy to top him with, and go.

Hmm. Not a bad idea. Show off your new and improved husband to your female friends first. That’ll be great for business.

True, then everyone will know what a good husband looks like.

I struggled, through the deep relaxation of trance, to voice my support for these ideas, but I could only get out “Thhhrrrrrr” before I felt Hannah’s finger on my lips, gently shushing me.

Quiet, Jacob. The women are talking now.

They continued to talk for some time. At last, I was allowed to wake up, and I found myself in my wife’s loving embrace.

“Welcome back, honey” Hannah purred in my ear. “How do you feel?”

“Like a new man” I answered honestly.

She kissed my forehead, and I felt a tingle of pleasure running down my spine as her lips worked a tiny part of their magic on me.

“You made the right choice, I promise” she whispered. “I know there’s a tiny part of you that doesn’t like this, and you were so good to ignore it for me and go with your better judgement.”

“Thank you, Mist- Hann- erm, what should I call you?” I asked.

“You can call me Hannah most of the time,” she laughed softly, “but when we’re alone, or just with Dr. Stephanie… call me ‘Goddess’. I like the sound of that.”

“Yes, Goddess” I replied, amazed at how natural that felt.

“Now,” she husked, “we still have some time left in our appointment, and since Dr. Stephanie has been such a big help, I think it’s only fair that she gets to watch as I train you to lick my pussy.” She kissed me.

I couldn’t deny her. “Yes, Goddess” I mumbled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dr. Stephanie watching appreciatively as I lowered my face into Goddess Hannah’s pussy and began, under her gentle instruction, to lick.

I would be the most loving and devoted husband I could be. I would be the best possible poster boy I could be for women who always wondered if they could fix a man. With Dr. Stephanie’s help, they would find out.

I lost myself to the pleasure of submission as I served my Goddess.