The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When you’d been teaching as long as I had, you thought you’d seen everything. Fake excuses for not doing assignments. Real excuses that were far stranger than the fake ones could ever be. Medical emergencies in lecture theatres. Students having sex in public places. Even at 55, I had already reached that wizened old age where you could only sigh at every indiscretion, every oddity, and say, “Ah, I’ve seen it all before.”

One place you didn’t expect it was when dealing with your postgraduate students. Nearly everyone had something going on, from mental illnesses to work commitments; the true beginnings of adult life, but the impulse to do something incredibly stupid had been selectively bred out of them. They knew they were at the stage where that kind of thing could jeopardize the rest of their lives, if they weren’t careful. What they did in my offices, in my presence, actually mattered.

This mutual understanding morphed into a complacency that left me unprepared for the shock and fury I felt when finally the rules of academic conduct, spoken and unspoken, were summarily demolished right in front of my eyes.

Stephanie Meacham was among my favourite students I’d ever taught. Not prodigiously talented in the traditional sense, where rich parents pay exorbitant sums of money for extra tuition to push their beloved hellspawn’s grade up, but a truly enthusiastic pupil of all things psychological, with respectable grades to show for it. She had scarcely gone a year through her Bachelor when she had developed a special interest—male psychosexuality. Exactly the sort of niche area you need if you are seeking further study. She had briefly considered going out into the world as a professional psychologist, and was on track to do just that, but ultimately she decided to cap off her academic career with a Ph.D first.

I was very glad for her, and only too happy to meet her to discuss whether I might be her supervisor. Privately, I could admit that male psychosexuality was not of much interest to me, and I struggled to understand what Stephanie saw in it. But at the very least I would be able to hear where her interests lay, and point her in the direction of a better supervisor if I could think of one.

At the appointed time, I heard a knock on my door.

“Come in!” I called.

And in she walked, dragging behind her Luke—a lecturer, a member of the faculty for god’s sake—wearing nothing but a collar and a leash. He walked on his knees, head bowed, hands obviously bound behind his back.

I was outraged, my mouth agape. Inappropriate conduct between staff and students, indecent exposure, public pet-play… all failed to adequately convey what was happening here. This was effectively the end of both of their academic careers in one fell swoop. The ruination of years of hard work and mentoring and dedication. A tragic loss to a struggling discipline that needed their expertise and diligence but could not abide their conduct.

Before I could find the words to convey any of this, Stephanie spoke.

“Professor Kesselberg,” she announced, “I have a revolutionary thesis on the nature of the male mind to show you. In brief, I have discovered a means for women to induce a hypnotic trance in men simply by kissing them, granting the woman previously undiscovered levels of control.”

“I, you, you can’t—” I spluttered, “what is the meaning of this, Stephanie?! This little stunt will cost you your entire academic fortune!”

“I am aware,” she replied lightly, “but you would never have believed me if I’d simply sat down and explained it to you without evidence. In a way,” she tugged on the leash, “he is my thesis statement.”

I was aghast. This was Luke, for goodness’ sake. He had taught every Intro to Psychology course for the last five years, practically a celebrity among the student body. He knew the kind of hero-worship that inspired in some of the more starry-eyed students, and he was always careful to maintain a friendly but completely professional attitude towards them. Now he was naked on the floor in my office, in complete deference to someone who had been taught by him personally. Oh Stephanie, what have you done?!

“You will both explain yourselves, now,” I ordered, “and if I am satisfied with the explanation I might not immediately have you thrown off campus.”

“Professor Luke Bailey here has been hypnotised,” Stephanie explained, as if that were the most normal thing in the world. She sat down at the chair in front of my desk, affecting a laid-back attitude as she continued. “He must obey nearly all of my commands, and in fact, he is trained to respond only to my voice. I don’t believe he will answer if you talk to him.”

That couldn’t be right. I came around my desk and, trying desperately to ignore his nudity, clapped my hands as loudly as possible beside his ear. “Hey!” I yelled. “Damnit Luke, snap out of it!”

I thought I saw him wrinkle his nose, but apart from that, nothing.

“I should mention he can still hear you,” Stephanie added, “he just won’t respond. You might deafen him if you keep doing that.“

I glared at her, “Why are you doing this, Stephanie? Of all the ways to spend your time, why come into my office on the pretense of applying for a Ph.D, and then… this?”

“I told you,” Stephanie said with an air of deliberate patience, “I’ve developed a revolutionary thesis of how the male mind works. I have discovered not only that men can be hypnotised, in the layman’s sense of controlling their minds, but that it can be done simply by kissing them. That’s all it took to bring this one,” she nudged Luke with her foot, “to his knees, in a literal sense. This phenomenon, how far it goes, and what limits it has… that is what I want to study for my Ph.D.”

“Out of the question!” I bristled. “Even supposing you have found something in the psychology of, I should remind you, a member of this faculty—”

“But it’s not just him!” Stephanie retorted, eyes gleaming. “As far as I can tell, it’s every man, or it could be any man, depending on how you look at it. Does that not fascinate you? Does that not throw into serious contention just about everything we believe about free will? A man’s will is not preordained by God, and it is not free, for upon my lips, I have rewritten it, and he wanted me, begged me to do it.“

I was floored. This was the driven and passionate side of Stephanie that I knew, but I got the sense that I was finally meeting the woman behind the curtain. Was this what her drive had been about all this time?

“Alright, alright,” I grumbled, striding over to my office door to make sure it was locked, then turning back to her. “How does it work?”

“You kiss a man, and then he does whatever you say,” Stephanie replied, blandly.

“That’s it?”

“It’s not a bad starting point, considering that I’ve been conducting extracurricular studies with zero funding and no control group, if you’ll pardon the pun,” Stephanie said. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable jumping to any concrete conclusions without a broad, quantitative and qualitative study of kissing and its effects.”

“You want a—” I stammered. “Stephanie, that’s outrageous! Think of the implications! Asking thousands of men to sign away their free will? The Board of Ethics wouldn’t give it a second thought before burning all research associated with it!”

“Not just men,” Stephanie deflected, “cis and trans men and women, nonbinary people, old, young, attractive, unattractive. Who knows what we could discover? We might prove brain sex exists! We might demonstrate that gender is a spectrum! We might give women who aren’t conventionally attractive by society’s standards a fighting chance in the dating scene!”

“I get the picture, thank you!” I almost had to shout, to talk Stephanie down from her mania. “But the point stands, nobody in their right mind would approve of it. This study you want would be canned before it even got started.”

“The Board of Ethics,” Stephanie mused, and there was an oddly sly note in her voice, “are they all men?”

I replied, without thinking, “Well, yes, I suppose they—”

And then her words hit me, and with a shiver down my spine, I realised what she meant. What her actual plan was. A plan that, for all her grandiose performance here, she didn’t need my slightest input on. I suddenly saw that I was several steps behind where I needed to be if I was going to deal with Stephanie Meacham.

“You’re not serious,” I said flatly.

“I am completely serious,” she said.

“I could stop you,” I protested instinctively.

“How?”

And there was the rub. I couldn’t. My words caught in my throat, and Stephanie saw it.

“Look,” she said placatingly, “if my theory is right then women have been doing this, intentionally or otherwise, throughout history anyway. You can do it too. That alone should make it worthy of study.”

I rubbed my temples. This was too much. “Okay,” I sighed, “tell me everything.”

“What would you like to know?” she prompted.

“You—we, I should say—can hypnotise men, with just our kisses?”

“There is a certain technique to it,” Stephanie admitted, “but yes, that’s all it takes.”

“How does it work, precisely?”

“As near as I can tell, it overloads the brain with pleasure just enough to suspend critical thinking, rendering the man helplessly suggestible for a brief period of time. How much time depends on the kiss. Hypnotic suggestions can be given in the brief window after breaking the kiss, and they seem to work best when given by the kisser. However,” she brandished a recording device she was carrying around with her, “to uncomplicate the timing of suggestions, recording your voice and playing it back while you kiss him works nearly as well.”

I tried to process this. “Does it linger afterwards, I mean to say—”

“Can you give post-hypnotic suggestions that he will obey? Yes.”

“It works on all men?”

“All men I’ve tried it with so far.”

“How many is that?”

“Including Luke here, a total of 26 men, ranging in age from 19 to 68, mostly white but not all, so it doesn’t seem like age or race is a factor.”

“You’ve enslaved 26 men??”

“No, right now Luke here is the only one under any kind of compulsion to slavery, but I could have if I’d wanted.”

“Does it work on women?”

Stephanie gave a tiny, secretive smile. “No, not as far as I’ve found,” she said. “Though I intend to keep trying.”

“Can men hypnotise women?“

“I don’t think so.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Imagine that you’re a man, and an attractive 20-something woman has just said to you ‘Excuse me, can I get you to read this hypnosis script into my voice recorder, then kiss me? Why yes, I do want you to hypnotise me, if you can. Yes, the kissing is part of it. If it doesn’t work, well, we can still make out. And if it works, I guess I have to obey your every command…’ Believe me, it wasn’t hard to find volunteers.”

“Point taken, I suppose. Anything else that, ehm, affects the outcome?”

“I find that it works better the more attractive the man finds the woman to begin with. For example… Slave Luke, tell us honestly, do you find Gloria Kesselberg attractive?”

“Yes Mistress, I do,” mumbled Luke, the first words he had even spoken since entering my office on his knees.

“Would you like to be kissed by her if you had the opportunity?”

“Yes Mistress, I would.”

Stephanie turned back to me. “See? So in your case I think you’d have a fairly easy time of it. Of course I haven’t had much luck trying to convince gay men to let me kiss them, but preliminary results suggest that if a man doesn’t like someone kissing him, he doesn’t feel pleasure, so he can’t be hypnotised.”

I was thrown, not just by the casual way Stephanie had referred to Luke as her slave, like it was some sort of title, but by the way Luke had just confessed... “Sorry, come again? Luke finds me attractive?”

Stephanie grinned slyly. “Slave, tell us what you like so much about Gloria.”

“She frightens me, but in a sexy sort of way,” Luke replied, his dull monotone belying the deeply personal secrets he was confessing. “I often find myself imagining her as a stern librarian, metaphorically and literally whipping me into shape if I get something wrong. It’s why I always try to do my best for her. Sometimes I imagine her kissing me as a reward for a job well done. I think she’s brilliant and beautiful.”

I was blushing, hard. A naked man was on my office floor, telling me I was sexy. Luke couldn’t possibly actually think that. He must have been hypnotised into it-

But Luke did always do his best for me, I realised. Always doing extra little favours where he could. Always seeking my approval. Always staring up at me like he’d done something wrong. It couldn’t be, could it?

Stephanie settled that internal debate for me by whispering, “And how would you like Gloria to hypnotise you just like I’ve done?”

“I would enjoy it a lot, Mistress,” Luke replied, still in that flat emotionless voice, but out of the corner of my eye, though I was trying not to look, I saw his penis hardening. Undeniable proof of his words.

“So, what do you think, Professor Kesselberg?” Stephanie asked me. “Would you like to try it?”

I swallowed, and wet my lips nervously. Nervously… or in anticipation. Was I really thinking about this?

To avoid giving her a definitive answer, I said “You mentioned that there’s a technique involved. What is that, exactly?”

“You have to seduce him,” Stephanie replied. “Make yourself known, make it unavoidable that he thinks about your kiss, but be gentle, be teasing, be soft. You can’t hypnotise someone while your kiss is bruising their lips. No pain, no unpleasant sensations, just bliss. Do you understand what I mean?”

I thought I did.

“Now, wake up,” Stephanie snapped her fingers.

I was startled as Luke abruptly came back to himself, and took stock. His surroundings. His naked erection. Stephanie and me looking down at him.

“I, er, uh… oh,” he mumbled, his eyes widening as he looked up at me. This is it, I thought, this is where it all comes crashing down, and now maybe I get kicked out of the university too.

But to my surprise, he said nothing, and stayed there on his knees.

“It was very naughty of you to come into Professor Kesselberg’s office naked like this, wasn’t it?” Stephanie whispered into his ear.

“Yes Mistress,” he mumbled.

“Actually,” she mused, “I’m not sure that I am your Mistress anymore. Because what you really want right now is for Professor Kesselberg to hypnotise you, punish you for your indiscretions, and make you hers, don’t you? Be honest.“

“Yes, please,” he begged. His penis, I saw, got even harder as he said it.

“Approach her on your knees,” she commanded, and even though he was no longer calling her ‘Mistress’, he obeyed instantly.

Suddenly he was there, in front of me as I sat in my office chair, waiting for me to kiss him.

It was a magic moment. It was so very wrong. It was terrifying. But I knew what I had to do. Everyone in that room knew what I would do. I had to prove to myself that it worked.

I tilted Luke’s chin up so he was looking me in the eyes, then I leaned down and gave him the softest, most seductive kiss I knew how.

I held it for five seconds, then broke it with a deliberately loud ‘mmmwah’, then quickly commanded “Relax for me.”

His eyes were already closed, and I thought I saw him nod slightly. Stephanie gave me a wink and a thumbs up. What the hell, I was committed now. I leaned in and kissed him again, trying to think of all the things a hypnotist might say. Or a professional dominatrix. Was there overlap between those two?

Mwah, “You are relaxed.“

Mwah, “You are sleepy.“

O-BE-DI-ENT, Stephanie mouthed at me, coaching me between kisses.

Mwah, “You are obedient.“

Mwah, “You … enjoy being kissed like this.“

Luke sighed, clearly lost in pleasure already, but I was running out of ideas. I had barely any idea of what I was doing in the first place. Stephanie mouthed MIS-TRESS at me, and I got the idea.

Mwah, “I am your Mistress.“

Mwah, “You will obey me.“

Mwah, “I… control you?“

Stephanie nodded frantically at me, making ‘keep going’ gestures with her hands.

Mwah, “I control you.“

Mwah, “I control… your body.“

Mwah, “I control your mind.“

Stephanie mimed snapping her fingers. I didn’t need to read her lips to know what she meant.

I kissed him one last time, then snapped my fingers and said “Sleep.”

Professor Luke Bailey slumped onto my leg, drooling and unmistakably hypnotised.

I took a deep, steadying breath, and sagged back in my chair. It had worked. And the strange thing was, I had felt it working, felt his mind melt away under my kisses.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Stephanie murmured quietly. “The way he sighed into every kiss, the subtle sag of his shoulders… that’s how you know when he’s open and suggestible for you. Well done, Professor Kesselberg, you’re a natural.” She laughed softly. “I’m probably the last person on Earth who could slut-shame here, but I have to admit I’ve never seen a man go under so quickly or easily. He must really like you.“

“Do… do you understand what this means?” I said eventually.

“Oh yes,” Stephanie replied, and that deadly gleam was back in her eyes, “yes I think I do.”

“You cannot be serious about studying this!“

“I assure you I am, Professor.”

“Stephanie,” I pleaded, “think of the damage it will do to the… the social fabric! The relations between women and men! If something like this gets out—”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” Stephanie mused, “and I have to say I think those relations will improve, actually.”

“H-how can you think that?” I said weakly. “I know you’re smart, Stephanie, surely you aren’t so ignorant of the world that you think women won’t face consequences for this!”

“Yes, I am aware,” Stephanie replied patiently, “but women are already viewed with suspicion among traditionalist types, tempting them into sin with our bodies and so on.”

“So? You would be giving them fuel for their fire!” I exclaimed.

“And since when have they ever needed fuel?” Stephanie shrugged. “Sure, now they have proof that their wildly incorrect hunches were actually right all along, but who cares? Evidence and proof don’t matter to those types of people. If we broke this news right now, in two weeks’ time you’d see posts about women with oddly shaped chins or bushy eyebrows or something, and a lot of dotted lines which prove they’re secretly controlling the government from behind the scenes, and it would carry exactly the same weight as irrefutable scientific evidence that women can control men with kisses.”

“Conspiracy theorists aren’t the only types you need to worry about!” I shot back. “When religious types get hold of this, it’ll be like a brand new Original Sin for us.”

“Yes, but again, they do that already,” Stephanie said wearily. “And like conspiracy theorists, they don’t need an excuse.”

“That’s not the point!” I blustered.

“No, you’re right,” Stephanie said, “I think the point is that men, gay and asexual ones excepted, really want to kiss women, and a little thing like us being able to control their minds is not actually going to be a dealbreaker for them.“

“I- you can’t know that!”

“How many times have you heard stories of supposedly homophobic politicians being caught at gay orgies or soliciting male prostitutes?”

“A fair number,” I admitted, “what’s your point?”

“My point is that society tends towards balance,” Stephanie said. “You can introduce something new to it, and people will adapt to it. You’re right, the religious leaders won’t stop banging on their drum about how women can’t be trusted, but over time, with a little persuasion or a little curiosity, or just a fear of missing out, they might find themselves secretly the most frequent and most willing of slaves.“

“You think that religious leaders will volunteer to be hypnotised?“

Stephanie gave that infuriating shrug again, “Why not? It’s how they end up in bed with all those gay people, broadly speaking. It’s not as if they can avoid it if they want women to kiss them. And however much they protest, they will still want it.”

I sat back, taking stock for a minute and noting that how the male mind worked with regard to sex was, after all, Stephanie’s chosen area of expertise. Right or wrong, she’d clearly been thinking about this for a long time.

“What about the impact on other areas of life, like politics?” I asked, a little more carefully this time. “I suppose you’ve thought of that, too?”

“Yes, I have,” Stephanie admitted. “And I think one thing we could easily forget is that, as far as I can tell, women have always been able to do this. Nothing has actually changed. If male politicians don’t want their vote to be swayed by a woman’s wiles, he will simply have to stop kissing any pretty woman who throws herself at him. He may even have to stay loyal to his wife. The horror!“

“But… the stigma politicians’ wives will face! The merest act of voting, influenced by a kiss…” I trailed off. Somewhere deep inside myself, I was admitting that these disaster scenarios I had constructed didn’t sound too bad.

“Men in politics have always been influenced by their wives, their girlfriends, their … mistresses,” Stephanie cracked a cheeky grin. “If anything, we may only be giving the world an explanation for how the system already works.”

“And you think men will just… go along with that?”

“They’ll have to. Or at least, they’ll have to know that the woman they kiss isn’t going to take advantage of them. Men will have to navigate the dating scene, the sexual games they play, by trust. Imagine that!“

Try as I might, I couldn’t refute her. I sighed. “I still can’t condone this as a Ph.D study. Even if you are right, and this has been a fact of life for all of human history… a study just cannot be done. Not in our current academic climate, and not for the kind of investigations you clearly want to make.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Stephanie admitted, standing up. “I still have enough material to explore some area of male sexuality besides this one, if that helps.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t assume I just believe that you would give up a clear passion project so easily. What are you planning, Stephanie?”

Stephanie took a deep breath, and declared, “I will do my Ph.D on whatever area of male psychosexuality you would allow, but you’re right, studying hypnotic kissing is my passion project, and I won’t give it up. This is just… a setback. If you will not take me on for it, if the academic world is truly not ready for this kind of research, then I will just have to make the fact itself unavoidable.”

I wasn’t that advanced in age, but somehow I felt I could do with a nice fainting couch right now. “Dear lord…” I murmured. “How explosive do you intend to be?”

“Not explosive, just persuasive,” Stephanie grinned. “Well, I think I’ve wasted enough of your time. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, anyway. See you around, Professor!”

She turned and flounced towards the door.

“Wait!” I protested. “What about Luke?” He was still leaning, and drooling, on my leg.

“He’s all yours,” she replied briskly, “have fun with him!”

“I can’t keep a slave! He’s a professional acquaintance, for god’s sake!” I exclaimed.

“Why not? You hypnotised him,” Stephanie pointed out, “and you’re the one he finds more attractive. I’m sure I’d be a terrible Mistress for him, in comparison. Anyway, my control over him is non-existent now.”

“But… wait a moment,” I realised, “you tricked me! You came to this meeting with someone you knew would submit to me!“

Stephanie inclined her head, not bothering to deny it. “I had to prove to you that my theory works,” she said. “Keep him. As a reminder.”

She reached for the doorknob.

“Fine,” I said.

She turned back. “What?”

“If you want to do a Ph.D using whatever surplus material you have, I will be happy to act as your supervisor,” I said, as calmly as I could manage. “If, or should I say, when, you manage to get the Ethics Board on your side, a Ph.D in this area will stand you in good stead. Legitimize your main venture, shall we say.”

Stephanie grinned, clearly relieved to have found someone she could count as an ally. “Thank you, Professor!”

I inclined my own head. “You drive a hard bargain, Stephanie Meacham. Well played.”

“Well, I don’t want you to think badly of me,” she mused, “so I’m happy to sweeten the deal. Are there any men in the wide world of professional Psychology whom you especially loathe? Someone who needs taking down a peg?”

A name popped into my head straight away. One who scorned other people’s methods, one who had no respect for women whatsoever. One who nearly cost me my career. One, perhaps importantly, who still lived and worked in this city. “Victor Thorpe,” I growled.

Stephanie quickly looked him up. “Hmmm… Thorpe, oh yes, I see, he certainly looks the part. Very pompous. Has his own practice. Has… criminally outdated views. Goodness, yes, he will do just fine.“

“I grow weary of asking this,” I said, “but what are you planning?”

“Just a little comeuppance for him, as I establish myself professionally after my Ph.D is done,” she winked. “Consider it a small repayment of the huge favour you’re doing me.”

“While we’re on the subject of small favours,” I interjected, “perhaps you could enlighten me as to how I should keep Luke as a slave?” I picked up his leash, which had been trailing on the ground, testing how it felt in my hand.

Stephanie blinked. “That? Oh, there’s nothing to it. It’s much, much less effort than you’re probably thinking. It’s like having a pet, but he can take care of himself, you can communicate your needs to each other, and you can opt out at any time. Let’s see… repeating commands is essential so that they sink in, give him a trigger phrase to fall back into trance, make sure he knows who he obeys, and anything else is up to you.”

“Um… alright then,” I swallowed. Even that felt like too much responsibility.

“If you don’t feel like it, you can just tell him it was all a dream and release him,” she added, “but please at least try it out before you decide.”

“Thank you for this enlightening meeting, Stephanie,” I said, standing up and extending my hand.

She shook it. “I look forward to working with you, Professor Kesselberg. While I think about it, your new slave’s clothes are folded on a chair just outside your door. And if you’re concerned about cameras, I can promise you that any tapes from today, specifically, will mysteriously go missing.” She laughed as she turned to leave again. “Security guards are so easy…”

Yes, I mused, as she strode towards the door, I would have to think very fast to keep up with her-

And then I saw it. A tiny detail she’d let slip. A way that I could assert my presence in this strange partnership.

“One moment,” I said sharply.

She turned back, and this time she looked confused. “Yes, Professor?”

“You have an accomplice in all of this. Who is it?”

I knew I was right instantly from the way her expression froze. It made sense, too; testing this method on women? Walking up to strange men and asking them to hypnotise her? She needed a trusted female friend, if not to conduct these experiments with her outright, then at least to keep an eye on her while she did. That small smile she’d given suggested it was the former, and that Stephanie enjoyed kissing her very much.

For the first time, Stephanie looked bashful, a closely-guarded secret discovered unexpectedly. Her gaze lingered on mine for a while, wondering how far she could trust me, perhaps.

“Lucy Halliday,” she replied eventually.

“Thank you for telling me,” I nodded.

She left, and now I had a slave to consider the future of. Surely the responsible thing to do was to let him go? He was still naked, too. And his poor knees were surely suffering from kneeling for so long on my carpet.

“Luke? Can you hear me?” I asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” he responded immediately.

“Sit in the chair, Luke.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

His eyes flickered open so he could locate the chair, and I saw that they were glazed over, lost in trance and adoration. He sat and waited patiently. I noticed that his erection had gone down while Stephanie and I had been talking, but the simple act of obeying me was causing it to return. There was something quite arousing about this, I had to admit.

“You must obey me,” I tried.

“I must obey you,” he parrotted.

“You will fall into this deep hypnotic trance again when I, and only I, snap my fingers and say ‘Deep trance, Luke’.”

“I will fall into a deep hypnotic trance when you snap your fingers and say ‘Deep trance, Luke’.”

I recalled what Stephanie had said about repetition, and I had him repeat it three more times. Then,

“I am your Mistress.”

“You are my Mistress.”

“You will not tell anyone about this aspect of our relationship.”

“I will not tell anyone about this aspect of our relationship.”

“You will do your best to ensure that everyone sees us only as professional academic acquaintances.”

“I will do my best to ensure that everyone sees us only as professional academic acquaintances.”

“If anyone else should discover otherwise, you will tell me immediately.”

“If anyone should discover otherwise, I will tell you immediately. Er… Mistress, I think Stephanie knows about our relationship…”

I almost laughed. What a literal-minded way of interpreting that statement! “It’s okay for Stephanie Meacham to know,” I soothed, “but nobody else.”

“Oh, ok Mistress.”

“Now,” I pondered, “how do you like to be dominated?”

“I always fantasized about you whipping me when I was disobedient, Mistress,” Luke replied.

“Well, I don’t have whips,” I responded, “how do you feel about being spanked instead?”

He shivered, apparently with pleasure. “Yes, Mistress. Please.” His erection was pointing straight up now.

“And if you’re a good slave?” I prompted, then I saw the leash and had an idea of my own. “Actually, let’s say that if you’re a good slave for me, I will reward you like this.”

I picked up the leash again and tugged it, drawing his head sharply upwards. I kissed him, gently but firmly, and he practically swooned underneath me.

“Does that sound good to you?” I asked. It was a mostly rhetorical question. I had a good idea of what the answer would be.

“Yesss, Mistress,” he moaned.

I pondered what a professional domme would do in this situation. This was something I’d have to study in great detail, but for now, I acted on instinct.

“Well then,” I said, sitting back in my chair, “your Mistress needs to relax and unwind after that meeting. Massage me, starting with my feet.”

Any doubts I had about his dedication vanished as his firm but gentle hands kneaded my soles. It felt incredibly nice, and I made a mental note to find more ways to bring out this “stern librarian” character that Luke saw in me. In the meantime, I basked in his worshipful pampering and pondered my next move. Stephanie had planned her moves over a long time, maybe years, and if I was truly committed to helping her, mine would need to be equally as considered.

I thought about Lucy Halliday. A bright student in her own right, though the pace of her degree had lapsed behind Stephanie’s as she had gone part time for her final 2 years of study. I wondered if there was some hidden truth behind her burgeoning reputation for partying. Was that all there was to it, or had she been seeking out as many chances as possible to experiment with Stephanie’s hypnotic methods?

What she needs, I thought, is a party she can use to her advantage.

I made a note in my calendar, almost two years in advance, to remind me that when Lucy finally completed her Master’s, there was an academic conference that she would be in a very good position to attend. There would be some highly influential people there. Perhaps Lucy herself would turn out to be one of them.

“It seems that we are in for a steep learning curve,” I murmured, stroking my new slave’s hair idly, “but I think we can keep up.”