The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Well, this was turning out to be a giant waste of my time. Guess I should’ve expected as much. MikeCon was a fresh, up-and-coming convention for podcasters, and I was a fresh, up-and-coming podcaster. Those two don’t mix. The first year, at least, the people who turn up aren’t going for the general atmosphere or to explore new talent, they’re going exclusively for the one or two big draws that the Con has managed to wrangle. There they were, signing autographs and selling merch about, oh, 200 metres away, at the other end of the convention hall. If I was lucky, and the crowd doubled in size, the queues might stretch far enough back to reach the stall I’d set up. And then… well, hope that they’re interested I guess.

Maybe I’d set my expectations too high. In practice, people weren’t that enthused by a back-catalogue of a whopping three episodes. And you wouldn’t believe, until you saw it, how saturated the market is already with men’s health podcasts. Neither I nor James, my sound engineer, had any real expertise to bring to the table, so a lot of the episodes so far were just the two of us regurgitating professional opinions and studies we’d found online.

What we need, I thought, is to find our own niche.

James had opted to stay home, with the excuse that he needed to edit the latest episode, so it was just me manning the stall. Seven or eight hours of watching the world go by. The lack of stimulation was killing me. At one point I realised I’d fallen asleep, and woke to the sound of a giggling convention-goer taking my picture. She blushed, caught in the act.

“Saw-ree,” she sang, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Whatreyoudoing?” I mumbled blearily, shaking my head to clear it.

“Saw-ree,” she said again in that vaguely irritating, placating tone, “it’s just kinda… convention mood, you know? Can I upload it, please?”

What the hell. If somebody on social media found it funny, that would be as much interaction as I’d got all day. Any publicity is good publicity, or whatever.

“Sure,” I shrugged, “but I’d appreciate if you tagged the podcast in it.”

“Done!” she chirped, checking my banner. “Thank you sooo much, hope you find some more fans!”

I watched as she flounced away. I had half a mind to persuade her to stay and talk, but it’s not like she was in my target demographic anyway. Judging by the large kitchen knife spattered with blood on her t-shirt, I guessed that she was more of a True Crime person.

I wasn’t proud of it, but I spent the next few minutes scouring social media on my phone to find that picture. I learned from this experience that, due to things like Movember and other initiatives for men’s mental health, a podcast called “Let’s Talk Men” was completely un-searchable. Great. Maybe we should just change our name now, while we still had absolutely no brand recognition whatsoever.

There I was, spark out on the desk, and pretty sure I was actually drooling. A decent number of interactions already, but few of them seemed interested in my actual podcast. With the speed at which it was being buried under other pictures showing the vastly more popular personalities, I’d have to be happy with that.

happykylie:

Big convention mood. #mikecon #letstalkmen #same

Oh well. Good to know I was cool and relatable due to my… falling asleep in the middle of the day.

Time passed, and I was yawning again in spite of myself, when a voice broke the monotony.

“Let’s Talk Men?”

I looked up, and was greeted by a stunningly beautiful woman with caramel brown hair and a long, flowing red dress.

I straightened up immediately. “Er, yeah, that’s me!” I babbled. “That’s my podcast. What can I do for you?”

“Well, what kind of things do you talk about regarding men?” she asked.

Huh. This woman was a prospective listener? I wasn’t complaining, but she didn’t seem like the type we would normally attract. Oh, who was I kidding, we didn’t even have an audience yet, much less a type.

“Oh, well,” I replied bashfully, “we’ve only done three episodes so far, but the general plan is to talk about all kinds of stuff, really.”

“I see,” she mused, “perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Dr. Stephanie Thorpe, and I offer therapy and counselling services for all kinds of issues, but my speciality area is male psychosexuality.”

Male psychosexuality? Hmmmm. It was a bit risqué, but it was unique, at least. Maybe this convention was salvageable after all.

“That sounds like an interesting topic,” I said. “We haven’t really done an episode on that so far, we’re really just, you know, finding our groove.”

“Oh it is, very interesting!” Dr. Thorpe grinned, her eyes twinkling. “But I need somewhere to get all of my ideas out there. Other than an academic paper, I mean. What’s the point in publishing research the public knows nothing about?“

“Absolutely!” I agreed hastily. Was this going where I thought it was?

“So I’m thinking,” she said, giving my booth a once-over with her eyes, “if you’re just starting out, you need some kind of draw, to establish your initial brand, something that sets you apart from everyone else.”

“Yep, no, that’s very true,” I admitted. “And having an actual doctor of psychology on the show would give us some serious cred. If you, uh, wanted to, that is.”

“You keep saying ‘we’ and ‘us’.” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Is there someone else?”

“Oh, me and my sound guy, James,” I said. “He… couldn’t make it to the Con today.”

“Ahh, I see,” she nodded. “Yes, I think I would definitely like to come on your podcast, bounce some of my ideas off you. Where do you record?”

Say what you will about our podcast, with its 15 cumulative views so far, but we weren’t just two guys broadcasting out of a bedroom. “There’s a recording studio in the CBD,” I replied. “We record there on Fridays, so we can have the weekend to edit and publish on Monday.”

“Friday works very well!” she beamed.

“Fantastic!” I said, offering my hand for her to shake. “I’m Chris, by the way.”

She shook my hand firmly. “A pleasure to meet you, Chris.”

We exchanged contact details, and made a time to meet up beforehand. As she left, I texted James.

Dude, I think we’re actually going to have an audience now!

I was giddy with excitement when Friday rolled around. The fourth episode had gone live in the meantime, to an expectedly flat reception (19 cumulative views, woo). This would hopefully be a completely different beast. It had occurred to me that this Dr. Stephanie Thorpe might be too good to be true, but I had looked her up, and she was exactly who she said she was. 26 years old, a Ph.D thesis on male psychosexuality, a practice she operated out of, widely liked by her patients and respected by a good number of her academic peers. It all just made me even more eager to hear what she was all about.

I had arranged to come in slightly earlier than James, who had a tight schedule to keep in any case, so that I could show Dr. Thorpe around the studio. When I got to the entrance of the building, I was surprised to find that she wasn’t alone.

“Hello, Chris!” she greeted me. “This is Lucy. She’s a sort of protegé of mine. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought she’d enjoy the opportunity to listen in. Lucy, this is Chris.”

“How do you do!” said Lucy, shaking my hand enthusiastically, trying not to let the small handbag slung over her shoulder get in the way. She was slightly shorter than Dr. Thorpe, and her brown hair was darker, in a bob cut that just about reached her neck.

“An extra audience member?” I raised an eyebrow in what I hoped was a friendly manner.

“Sorry, I kinda talked her into it,” Lucy gushed, a star-struck pupil if ever I saw one. “I never miss one of Dr. Stephanie’s lectures! I’ll be quiet and keep to myself, I promise.”

“Sure,” I laughed, “we’ll take all the audience we can get!”

I led them inside. Dr. Thorpe seemed suitably wowed, which I was grateful for. A good first impression now would hopefully keep her coming back in the future.

“I hope you’re not spending too much on renting a room here,” she commented, “since you’re still finding your feet.”

“Ah, yeah,” I replied, “my dad’s kinda… loaded. When I told him I was serious about starting a podcast, he bought me a year’s worth of renting a recording studio, one session a week. After that, he said, I’d have to fund it myself, so hopefully I turn a profit by then!”

“And do you think you’ll turn a profit by then?” Dr. Thorpe asked.

“Well, I’m a lot more hopeful now!” I joked. She laughed.

We reached the room I’d begun to think of as our own. At the very least, nobody else used it on a Friday. It was a cozy affair, out of the way, no windows for people to peer in, and almost always retained our preferred set-up: two couches arranged perpendicular to one another, a couple of microphones hanging down from the ceiling, and an audio mixing board off to the side, where James worked his magic.

“Make yourselves comfortable, ladies,” I said as I sat down. Dr. Thorpe sat next to me, while Lucy took the second couch, on my other side.

“Are we going to meet your, ah, sound guy James?” Dr. Thorpe asked me.

“Yeah, sorry,” I apologised, “Friday’s the best day for both of us to record, but even so, he generally runs a bit late.” I checked my phone to confirm. “He says he’ll be like 10 to 15 minutes.”

Dr. Thorpe and Lucy grinned at each other. I saw Lucy reach into her bag and pull out what looked like a small recording device.

“Then it sounds like we have plenty of time to discuss the material before we get started, if you’re up for it,” Dr. Thorpe said.

“Certainly, Doctor—”

“Oh, please, call me Stephanie,” she smiled.

“Stephanie,” I corrected myself, “I would love to hear all about it.”

“Good,” she cooed.

Then she placed one soft, delicate hand on my thigh. I suddenly became very, very aware of my body. Dr. Thorpe was an extremely attractive woman, a fact I had been successfully able to ignore… until now.

“As you know,” she murmured, “I’ve devoted my academic career to studying male psychosexuality, which is a very touchy subject. I do hope you’re okay with that.“

“I… I’m fine so far,” I managed to blurt out. I turned to look at Lucy, but she was just holding her recording thingy expectantly, and waggled her eyebrows at me to pay attention. I turned back to face Stephanie.

“My research is all about the associations the mind makes, the kinds of things men think, and perceive, and feel,” she continued, “when I do things like this.“

Her hand started stroking my thigh in a steady rhythm. Up and down, up and down. There was no way I could conceal the boner that was rapidly developing a scant few centimetres away.

“Would you call this particularly sexual contact?” she purred.

“I… guess not,” I admitted. It was only my leg, after all.

“And yet, you may find you automatically associate a sexual aspect to it,” she said, and she had me dead to rights there. “How does that happen? Is it the location of the touch, or the sensation? A bit of both, I find.”

Trying to keep my wits about me, I stammered “W-what does this have to do with your research, uh, Stephanie?”

She gave me a wry smile, even as her hand grew more teasing, more seductive in its strokes. “Do you not find it fascinating how the slightest sign of intimacy can cause your mind to run wild imagining a more sexual version of events?”

Her clinical words were distinctly at odds with her actions, which somehow only made this whole weird situation even hotter. I fumbled for something intelligent to say. “Uh, yeah, that is weird—”

“Tell you what,” she said, “to understand more fully what I mean, why don’t you close your eyes? Remove the visual aspect and concentrate fully on the feeling.” Up and down, up and down.

“Alright, I’ll give it a try,” I croaked. I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

“So,” she continued, “that was just my hand. Now, what kind of things might you imagine if I kissed you instead?”

Before I could open my eyes or question her logic, she leaned in and her soft, warm lips met mine.

Click.

If I was driven wild by her hand, then her kiss sent me into meltdown. If I could rationalise it to her like she wanted me to, my brain was imagining every possible sex act I enjoyed at the same time, and I had no space left for other thoughts.

Relax and let go. You’re enjoying this.

It was hard to rationalise anything right now though, because Stephanie continued to kiss me, short but sensual pecks on the lips, and I could only relax and let go as I enjoyed it.

It feels good to relax and let me take charge. Your mind is too overwhelmed to think.

It was so nice to have Stephanie kissing me like this, and I wouldn’t mind if she wanted to do it more often, but I felt like I should answer her question first. I tried to break away, to get back on track, but her hand on my thigh came up to stroke my chest, gently but firmly pushing me further into the couch as she kissed me again, and again. It felt good to relax and let her take charge.

Your mind is going blank. You are getting so relaxed and sleepy. No thoughts in your head.

Dimly, I thought that maybe this wasn’t right, that maybe I shouldn’t have let this woman waltz in and call the shots on my own podcast. This was distinctly unprofessional, whatever her discoveries were.

Relax and submit. Relax and submit.

And there was something odd about the words… whispered in my ear like naughty secrets. Where were they coming from?

Before I could think about it properly, I felt another pair of lips, from behind me, trailing seductive kisses up my neck and onto my cheek. Was that Lucy?

You can’t fight the kisses. You don’t want to fight the kisses. Click.

“Relax, and let us have our fun” Lucy coaxed, her lips next to my ear.

I gave in, and let them both swarm over me, covering me with kisses, drowning me in gentle whispers. Who would want to fight this? My only thoughts were of being kissed. My only desire was to be kissed. These lovely ladies and their kisses had become my entire world. I barely even noticed what they were saying anymore, their voices overlapping and harmonising. It was so hard to keep track, to think.

“Relax. Let your mind go blank,” Stephanie murmured, before her lips captured mine again.

“You feel so warm, so comfy, so sleepy,” Lucy added, pressing soft, gentle kisses against my cheek.

“Our lips are like magic.” Kiss.

“Our lips are irresistible.” Kiss, kiss.

“Our lips are hypnotising you.” Kiss.

“Hypnotising you to sleep.” Kiss.

“Your mind is blank.” Kiss.

“Your mind is being kissed away.” Kiss, kiss, kiss.

“No thoughts, no resistance.” Kiss, kiss.

“Just deep, hypnotic sleep, for Stephanie.” Kiss.

“Sleepy and hypnotised for me.” Kiss.

“Sleepy and hypnotised for Stephanie.” Kiss, kiss.

They both leaned in for one last irresistible, mind-numbing kiss, and said “Sleep,” in unison.

I fell into their waiting arms.

“That’s it, Chris, just float deeper down into this wonderful, trance for me,” Stephanie purred. “You’re doing so well, just relax and tell yourself ‘I will obey Mistress Stephanie’. That’s a lovely thought, isn’t it? Just keep repeating that thought in your mind, and don’t pay attention to anything else until I say your name again.”

I will obey Mistress Stephanie. I will obey Mistress Stephanie. I will obey Mistress Stephanie.

I dozed peacefully, letting the words take over my mind as some other conversation floated in one ear and out the other.

I still reckon you cook ’em too slow, especially since we’re on a ten-minute time limit.

Relax, Lucy, that took five minutes at most.

Yeah, but I’m pretty sure we can cut it down to like, two if we need to.

We can run experiments on group inductions later. For now, I need you to keep watch.

I felt Lucy stand up, and leave the room, as Stephanie turned her attention back to me.

“Chris, can you hear me?”

“Uhuh,” I nodded lazily.

“Listen to me very carefully, and don’t pay attention to anything else. You enjoyed being hypnotised like this, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

I had to take a moment to work it out. My thoughts were so slow right now, still mostly preoccupied with her kisses. “Yes… Mistress Stephanie?”

“Good boy.” I could tell she was smiling. That made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“You want to be hypnotised like this again, don’t you?” she continued.

“Yes, Mistress Stephanie.”

“It’s okay if I hypnotise you any time I want. Repeat that until it sinks deep into your subconscious mind.”

“It’s okay if Mistress Stephanie hypnotises me any time she wants. It’s okay if Mistress Stephanie hypnotises me any time she wants. It’s okay if Mistress Stephanie hypnotises me any time she wants…”

I wasn’t sure how long I repeated it. As I was mumbling I thought I heard Lucy’s voice.

Um, excuse me? Could you show me the way to the bathroom? I kinda haven’t been to this building before.

Oh, uh, sure, right this way.

Was that James? Ah well, it didn’t matter. I’d been ordered not to pay attention to it, so I didn’t.

After a while, silence descended, and I realised I’d stopped repeating that thought about Mistress Stephanie hypnotising me. It was just a part of me now.

“That’s very, very good, Chris,” she said. “In fact, you’ll find that all men being hypnotised in this way is a normal and comfortable thing for you to witness. That makes sense, doesn’t it?“

“Yessss, Mistress Stephanie.” I’d enjoyed it a lot, so other men would enjoy it too. Yeah, that made sense.

“And you’re fine with me using the podcast to promote these ideas, aren’t you?”

There was something not quite right about that. I mumbled “Uhhhh—”

Mistress Stephanie quickly pressed more sweet, sensual kisses to my lips, quieting my protest.

“Shhhhhhshhshhh,” she cooed, “relax, just think about how good it feels to be hypnotised by my kisses. You can’t resist them.”

My mind was melting under her soft, insistent seduction. It felt so good to be hypnotised by her kisses, and it was difficult to remember that I’d had an objection in the first place, let alone why I was objecting.

“Perhaps I’m pushing you too quickly,” she said. “How about instead, you just relax and let me kiss you while you think about how good it feels to be kissed by me. How good it feels to be hypnotised by me. How good it feels to obey me. Feel my kisses driving all your thoughts away except those ones.”

She continued kissing me, as I let the fog drift over my mind completely.

It feels good to be kissed by Mistress Stephanie.

It feels good to be hypnotised by Mistress Stephanie.

It feels good to obey Mistress Stephanie.

Her lips were unrelenting, and I could only lie there and let myself be kissed until even my thoughts about how I had no thoughts were gone.

…

“Answer honestly,” Mistress Stephanie commanded. I didn’t know how much time had passed. I only knew it felt good to obey, be kissed, and be hypnotised by Mistress Stephanie.

“What do you not like about me promoting my ideas on your podcast?”

I felt my mouth moving by itself, responding without any input from me. “I would be fine if only one person had the power to hypnotise people like this, but the thought of teaching other people to do it scares me.”

“What scares you about it?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, “but I don’t think giving all women the power to hypnotise all men could possibly be a good thing.”

“But it feels so good to be hypnotised,” Mistress Stephanie purred in my ear, “surely you wouldn’t want to deprive your fellow men of the opportunity to feel the same?”

“I don’t know, Mistress.”

“Hmm…” she mused, “Lucy had a theory that hypnosis by kissing was almost entirely a pleasure response. Maybe it’s time to find out just how right she is. It’s a little brute force for my tastes, but perhaps if I show you how good it feels to submit, you’ll understand why I need to tell people about it.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I nodded.

“Take off your clothes,” she said softly, as she rummaged around for something in the bags they’d brought with them. “Then lie back, and spread your legs.”

I did as I was instructed, and felt myself grow even harder as I slowly came to terms with the fact that I was naked in front of her.

“Now,” she purred, “just let yourself feel everything I’m doing to you. Feel the pleasure.”

She delicately ran her hand up my leg until she was cupping my balls. I felt her kneel in front of me as her other hand traced my chest briefly before dropping away.

“Poor thing,” she cooed as she continued gently, agonizingly stroking, “I’ve been so bad about teasing you. You’re so hard already, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress Stephanie,” I whined, shuddering as I felt her plant a gentle, teasing kiss on the head of my dick.

“Imagine how good it will feel to have me and Lucy hypnotising you whenever you do the podcast,” she whispered. I felt my dick being enveloped and squeezed between her tits as she continued teasing the head with hot, wet kisses and licks. She had found lube somewhere—maybe that’s what she was searching for earlier—and used just enough that she could slide me smoothly through her cleavage while also allowing me to experience the actual feeling, the texture, of her soft skin wrapped around me. The effect was divine, and Mistress Stephanie had no hesitation in speeding up her motions on my dick when she saw me squirming, gasping in pleasure.

“Imagine I’m up there on the couch,” she cooed, “hypnotising you to do my bidding and letting you rest your head on my breasts, while Lucy is down here, slowly sucking your penis, driving you mindless with pleasure together, completely under our control.” She punctuated her statement by taking me even deeper into her mouth.

The mental image of being pleasured by both of them at the same time, in tandem with Mistress Stephanie’s very real ministrations, was too much to bear. I tried to argue, but the voice in my head that told me this could be dangerous was a lot quieter and less convincing versus her incredible titfuck. All too soon, I felt myself getting to the point of no return.

“Yessss,” she hissed, “don’t hold back, let’s get all that tension, all that worry out of your system. You’re so pent up, you’re going to absolutely coat my breasts with your cum. Maybe some will make it onto my face, or even into my mouth- that’s it, good boy, cum for me now…”

At that final tease, I came, shuddering with bliss as what felt like a week’s worth of sperm shot out of my dick. I didn’t know where it landed, and I didn’t care. But as Stephanie continued cooing softly to me while I drifted in the heady, sleepy afterglow, her ideas about the podcast and teaching women to hypnotise suddenly seemed very convincing, even sexy. My consciousness spiralled into oblivion.

When I woke up, I found myself still on the couch, lapping reverently at Mistress Stephanie’s pussy as she stood over me.

“Welcome back” she smiled, stroking my hair fondly like I was her loyal pet. “How do you feel?”

“I’m good thanks, Mistress!” I grinned, before putting my tongue back where it belonged.

“And if I asked you to be more specific?” she laughed, pulling my head away from her pussy.

“Well,” I racked my brains, trying to get the question out of the way so I could get back to pleasing my Mistress, “I’m a lot less nervous about hypnosis stuff. Less nervous in general, really.”

“You don’t mind my intentions for your podcast?”

“Not really,” I shrugged, “I mean it’s not exactly the direction I imagined us going in, but it certainly gives us a clear identity, or a brand, to work with.”

“Well then,” she lowered her dress and stood back, offering me her hand, “we should go and retrieve the others.”

I took it, and for some reason felt the need to kiss it reverently as I rose. “Mistress,” I began hesitantly, “am I still hypnotised?”

Mistress Stephanie ruffled my hair fondly again. “You’re still awake,” she said, “but you’re acting according to my commands. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I shrugged. “Makes sense why everything seems a little foggy.”

“That’s because I put you under very deep,” she explained, almost apologetically. “It was necessary, but it might take you a while to feel completely yourself. I won’t do that again, I promise.”

“It’s fine,” I assured her, “I enjoyed it.” And I had, if I was honest.

She opened the door and led me out into the hallway. When we found James, he was slumped against the wall outside the toilets, with Lucy alternating between kissing him passionately and whispering into his ear. It was nice to see them getting along. Nothing was strange. Nothing was unusual. She saw us, and gave us a thumbs up.

“Alright, you two lovebirds,” Mistress Stephanie smirked at them, “we have a podcast to record.”

So, I introduced Mistress Stephanie to the world as Dr. Stephanie, and over the next hour she explained everything she knew (so far, she added as an important disclaimer) about hypnosis, and particularly about how men could be hypnotised simply by kissing them in a certain way. Of course, this made her sound like a complete nutjob to the uninitiated, but she was aware, and tried to smooth things over by discussing the exact mechanics, the pleasure involved, the limits of the control you could have.

While she was giving her lecture, I noticed that James had his hands full, continuing to make out with Lucy. Her hands occasionally roamed across the audio set up to support herself, brushing against the buttons here and there. It seemed rude to interrupt her while they were both having so much fun, but I hoped she didn’t accidentally press something important. Nothing was strange. Nothing was unusual.

“But again,” Dr. Stephanie was saying, “how does anyone know I’m telling the truth? I admit, this sounds highly improbable until you can see it in action. Well, as it happens, the lovely boy in the studio who introduced me is hypnotised right now. Isn’t that right, Chris?”

“Yes, Dr. Stephanie,” I replied a little shyly, unsure if she wanted me to call her Mistress on air.

“I have you completely hypnotised and obedient to me?”

“Yes, Dr. Stephanie.”

“And I accomplished this by kissing you until all other thoughts left your mind?”

“Yes, Dr. Stephanie.”

“Unfortunately for me,” she continued, “you have no way of knowing that he’s telling the truth either. People do lie for attention on the internet all the time. As such, the best way to test this method of hypnosis yourself is to find a man you fancy, and kiss him until he’s nice and obedient for you. Just remember to time your suggestions right, and he’ll be putty in your hands in no time!

“But since I understand most people aren’t professional hypnotists, I’ve got another solution. So if anyone is curious about trying this themselves, I invite you to find a man you want to hypnotise, and in a moment, I will ask you to pause this podcast. After you’ve done that, simply tell him to listen to this podcast. You can do it however you like—tell him outright what you’re doing, seduce him into it, or trick him into it. That part is entirely up to you. What matters is that you get him listening to the podcast, unpause it from the place I’ve told you to stop, and then you need to kiss him, softly, sweetly, and seductively, for the next 10 minutes. You only need to kiss him, the podcast will do the rest, lulling him into a light hypnotic trance from where you can program him to be more easily hypnotisable in the future. You will need headphones or earbuds to get the best effect, and obviously you’ll need to remove those to talk to him once he is entranced.

“Remember, these suggestions will not work as efficiently as if you had given them yourself,” she concluded, “so if you wish to make a recording of your own voice, that will be much more effective. If you are accomplished, like me, you can time it well enough to break the kiss, sneak a suggestion in, then kiss him again before he can think critically. But further discussions on that, I’m afraid, will have to wait for another episode. For now, those who wish to try this method, the moment to pause is coming up. If you don’t, skip the next 10 minutes, and I’ll be back with you to sign off until next week.

“Have you found a man to hypnotise? Are you ready? Pause the podcast… now!”

I wasn’t entirely following what Mistress Stephanie meant when she said the podcast would do the rest in regards to hypnotising people, but then out of the corner of my eye I saw Lucy flip a switch, which came through as a short static ‘plink’.

“Um, Dr. Stephanie, I think your friend just switched off our mics—” I began.

But she had already taken off her headphones and scooted right up to me on the couch. When I turned to face her she captured my lips in hers. I reached up to take my own headphones off, but she smoothly entwined her fingers in mine, preventing me from reaching them. So I just relaxed and enjoyed the dizzying sensation of her kiss.

As she continued, I heard whispers in my ear. The sound system must have been switched over to a different audio track after our mics were cut, but that was fine, there was nothing strange or unusual about that. I let the voices float into my head.

Relax. Just relax.

You enjoy being kissed.

Relaxing and letting her kiss you.

It feels good to be kissed by her.

It feels good to let her be in charge.

I got the feeling that I’d heard something a lot like this before, but that thought was chased away as Mistress Stephanie kissed me again.

And again.

And again…

For those of you who tried it, I hope it worked well for you. For those of you who are interested and want to know more, I’ll be back next week with more information about hypnosis. This is Dr. Stephanie, signing off on behalf of myself, and the men who work on this podcast but are… otherwise occupied at the moment.

I drifted back to semi-consciousness, drowning in a haze of pleasure as Mistress Stephanie rode me on the couch. I was vaguely aware of Lucy doing the same to James.

Where did you find these guys? They’re- oooooohh, perfect. In more ways than one.

I found this one at a podcasters’ convention. I thought, well I could start my own podcast, or I could take over an established one. Either way, I was scouting out the- mmmm, competition. Then someone took a picture of him, completely out of it- oh, right there, slave. I saw a guy with a podcast about men, who had no audience and needed a lucky break, and was prone to falling asleep- mmmmm, yes, so very hypnotisable. The professional recording studio is an unexpected bonus, I’ll admit.

We’ve gotta change the podcast name though, it’s way too middle-of-the-road. How obvious do you want to be about your agenda?

I’m open to ideas.

How To Hypnotise, With Stephanie Mea—? wait, shit, I keep forgetting it’s ‘Thorpe’ now. Uhhhh… fuck that feels good… Hypnotic Seduction With Stephanie? Nah, that sounds like a perfume fragrance.

We can workshop it.

They continued riding us in relative silence, broken only by their moans of pleasure. Theirs, I noticed, but not ours. A part of my brain that hadn’t been allowed to think for a while wondered if they were deliberately competing to show who had the greater control over their slave.

I realised that I was thinking of myself—of both of us—as slaves to these women, but somehow, I didn’t mind. I relaxed back into my half-waking slumber and wondered if Mistress Stephanie would allow me to cum.

She did not. When I was eventually allowed to wake up later, I found myself still achingly hard and horny, but unable to cum unless she allowed me to. Judging by the look on James’s face, he was in exactly the same boat. Lucy was clearly a very capable protegé.

“Well, that was fun!” Mistress said, shaking my hand as if this was all just a normal podcast guest feature. “Same time next week?”

James and I looked at each other.

“Yeah!” we replied in perfect sync.

“Excellent! Hopefully this is the start of a wonderfully productive partnership,” she beamed, a gleam in her eye.

James shuffled around awkwardly, trying to conceal what must have been a painful boner. “Uhh…” he mumbled.

“You boys want to cum?” Lucy asked rhetorically. “Then make sure you do a good job editing the podcast. Mistress Stephanie has some pretty exact requirements. We’ll send you a list.” She grinned. “If you’re really good for us, we’ll see what we can do about letting you cum after the recording sessions!”

We gulped and nodded.

“Seems fair,” I croaked. “But… how does that work? What if we send it off to you, and it turns out it’s not up to standard?”

“Well you can’t cum just from sending an email,” Lucy rolled her eyes, “that would be silly. And you’d make a mess on your desk every time.”

“You recall,” Mistress Stephanie purred, “how many things we said we might get up to with you two under our control?”

I nodded. Apparently James had received the same teasing, erotic spiel from Lucy at some point, because he nodded as well.

“Well, I have good news,” she smiled, a little devilishly. “We did exactly what we promised.”

“And took pictures!” Lucy chirped. “A lot of pictures.”

Oh, fuck. I could practically see them in my mind. Mistress Stephanie and Lucy together, taking turns riding me, kissing each other, one burying my face in their tits while the other ran her tongue over my dick…

They knew they had us. Their grins, our hastily cleared throats, said it all.

“So, assuming you do a good job,” Mistress Stephanie concluded, “we’ll show you some of the things we got up to. That, plus all the extra traffic I’ll be bringing in by hosting your podcast for you, should be more than adequate compensation for the favour you’re doing me, shouldn’t it? Though I should warn you,” she added, tapping her chin with a finger as if she’d only just thought of it, “you may find the pictures incredibly hot, but it will be nearly impossible to cum without them, and their, ah, potency will wear off after 3 days. We want you nice and worked up by the time we record the next episode, after all. What do you say?”

It occurred to me that making Stephanie the de facto host of the podcast would make her the entire brand, but her wild theories could turn us into an overnight success. Especially because, as far as I could tell, it was all 100% true.

We nodded. What else could we do?

They stepped up to us, giving us each a long kiss and a firm, teasing stroke through our pants.

“Bye!” Lucy waved cheerily as she skipped out of the door.

“Until next time!” Mistress sang, shutting the door behind her.

James and I slumped back onto the couches, exhausted and defeated. There wasn’t much to say, so we let the seconds tick by as our session time ran down.

“Do you think… all women really can hypnotise men like that?” James said eventually.

“Unless you think those two fell into a vat of radioactive lipstick one day, yeah,” I replied.

James sighed, “Man, we are so dead. But what a way to go.”

“Worth it.” I agreed.