The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I was amazed how quickly a few months could go past. I mean, neither of us wanted a long engagement, especially when we were abstaining from sex for the intervening months. I’d never really seen the point in putting it off and spending a year or more on planning for just one day. Mind you, if you’d asked me a year earlier, I would probably have said I didn’t see the point in marriage when you could get laid with so much less effort.The difference there is simple: I’d finally come to realise that a relationship was about finding someone to spend your life with, not just someone to fuck.

But once I’d popped the question, the weeks pretty much flew past. Five months should be plenty of time to plan a party, right? But now three of those months were gone, and we’d hardly got anywhere. We’d decided on the venue—a posh hotel in the middle of nowhere, convenient for a dozen isolated woodlands and only fifteen minutes by taxi from the train station. It was pretty much perfect, though, as neither of us were particularly enthusiastic about the idea of a church, and her religious family would have turned up their noses at my mam’s family’s choice of faith, while grandma, dear old demented bat that she was, would have nothing good to say if she heard their preacher speaking in English for the whole ceremony.

No, it had to be a secular venue. But then, that left a lot of choice. Did you know they’ve got licenses to wed people in haunted houses now, you can even tie the knot on a roller coaster somewhere on the west coast? It blows your mind, it really does. So in the end we’d picked this hotel, which was comfortable, not too expensive, and refreshingly not offensive to anyone’s taste or beliefs. Well, except for Clara’s Uncle Oswald, but then he seemed to be referred to as “except Uncle Oswald” in any conversation with the family, almost like it’s an extension of his name, and for whatever the reason might be, it seemed it would never be possible to get his approval for anything.

This one night, we’d just been up to the hotel to speak to a manager about the size of the room, how much it’d cost us for the decorations, and the unexpected extra cost for staff to put the candles on the tables. It was ridiculous really, once we’d already paid to have a candle-lit dinner for a hundred and twenty people, and bought candles that worked out to cost 5.99 each, that they now wanted the better part of a week’s wages to put the candles and the tables into the room.

“Isn’t that what the service charge is for?” Clara had almost cried, leafing through a disordered stack of invoices and leaflets trying to find some reference to what was covered by the various surcharges and premiums included in the deceptively complex calculation.

“Calm down, honey,” I’d put my arm around her, “It’ll all be fine. I’ll talk to the manager, or we can ask Derek to have another look over the contracts,” and then I turned to glance at the guy in the over-starched monkey suit who’d delivered this latest bit of unwelcome news. I raised my eyebrow just a fraction, and met his gaze in a way that was clearly asking him how good his luck might be today.

A few minutes later, Clara was sitting in the bar with a complimentary large screwdriver (hold the OJ) to help calm her nerves, while I was in a poky office looking at the next member of staff up from the monkey suit over a pile of papers. I’d found lately it was easier than I’d ever thought to get an interview with someone who could make a different decision. I’d been practising by intimidating Clara, my lovely bride to be, who found a little fear to be the perfect aphrodisiac; and once I’d started watching, learning how truly scary people projected that image, I’d been amazed how much someone’s response would change from a fraction difference in tone, or the tension in a single muscle. It was almost like my own super power.

It didn’t hurt at all, of course, that there really did happen to be a guy named ‘Derek M.’ on the guest list, presumably yet another cousin or half-sister’s boyfriend’s dad in Clara’s extended family. I vaguely remembered hearing one of the staff commenting they were worried about a visit by someone of that name, and who was to know if it might be the same person? I didn’t know if the Derek known through the hospitality industry was a health inspector, or an auditor from head office, or an influential reviewer. But it’s amazing how much people will fill in from their own minds if you give them the smallest detail to build on.

“I must say, I am deeply shocked that one of our staff appears to have omitted a page from the quote you were originally given,” the man burbled obsequiously, “And in this case, we would be quite happy to offer a discount on the usual price, purely as a goodwill gesture.” I could see the nervousness in his eyes, though, darting this way and that, and occasionally to the page with our seating plan on. I mentally translated the apology as “We got caught trying to squeeze the customer too hard. Please don’t tell Derek M.”

He was scared of something, that was for sure. Just what could this mythical Derek do to them? I decided to push a little harder, just a little. I met his eyes, and said nothing. A faint rising of my mouth in one corner, just half a smile. I thought for a moment I’d overplayed my hand, but then he broke. “I think maybe we may have missed another part of your documents. Are you aware that we have the discretion to provide complimentary champagne and refreshments for our honeymoon suite?”

I smiled, accepted the bribe, “Wow, that’s very generous of you, Mister McIntyre,” I read off the little brass name badge on his jacket, “I shall certainly recommend this place to my friends.”

It took a while to sort out the payment dates and finalise the arrangements, but the process was effortlessly smooth. It seems everything runs more easily when the staff are a little afraid of you. We got back to Clara’s house quite late that night, and as soon as I’d locked the door, she turned to me and smiled.

“I’m so glad you were there, to deal with that manager. I wouldn’t have known what to do, but you’re so strong, so commanding.” She ran one fingertip across the inside of my thigh as she spoke, and I felt my own smile growing to match hers. “You could make that guy do whatever you want,” she continued, her hand moving a little higher, “But now, I want to show you that I can take control too.” The sentence was punctuated by a little gasp of surprise, as if she hadn’t expected switching roles to come so easily. At home, especially since I’d learned to hypnotise her, I’d always been the one to take charge.

But she moved confidently, secure in the knowledge that I would do anything she asked. Grabbing the front of my shirt, she almost dragged me up to the bedroom, then walked me backwards. When the edge of the mattress caught my knees, I was moving too quickly to react and toppled back onto the bed. She didn’t say anything, but her face was already flushed with excitement. This was a new thing for us, even after all we’d done together, but it was certainly turning me on as much as I’d hoped. I could feel the tip of my cock spring free of my underpants, scraping for a moment across the inside of my zipper, making me spasm with a sensation I couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure.

Clara didn’t pay any attention to my erection, though. She leapt onto the bed and knelt beside me, looking down into my eyes. For all she’d called herself a natural submissive, she’d been quick to master the body language that said she was in control. One knee pressed on my upper arm, and then before I could respond she swung a leg over to straddle me, pinning both of my shoulders with all her weight. I might have been able to lift her normally, but not in that position. And why would I want to, as she held me down and then hiked up her skirt to reveal she’d chosen to go without underwear today.

She swayed her ass from side to side, tantalising a foot or two in front of my face. Left, and right, and left, and right, and I got to admit it was a pretty attractive backside, one of the nicest I’ve had the opportunity to fuck. Today she was enjoying teasing me, though, getting slowly closer. I could tell how horny she was, her juices dripping onto my face, but staying just out of reach of my tongue. She seemed to fill my world, not just her ass filling my vision, but the smell of her as well, and this beautiful girl was the only thing on my mind.

Eventually, she moved backwards a little, and I eagerly began to kiss her lips, tongue probing for her clit. There was nothing more enticing at that moment than the prospect of pleasing my mistress, my fiancee, the most wonderful woman I’d ever met. I licked and sucked, throwing myself entirely into trying to satisfy her. My world only stretched a few inches from my face, as if my mouth and her pussy were everything that mattered. So when I felt her lips around my cock, it took me completely by surprise. I nearly shot my load in a second, but forced myself to hold it back. I needed to hear her moan, to feel her cum first, though I knew I wouldn’t last long.

It was a minute, or maybe two, but the seconds stretched out into a blissful eternity as she brought me to the edge and beyond, I felt my balls tighten and I was just holding it back by sheer willpower. It was long enough, though, and I felt her body stiffen, pressing my head down into the matress so hard I couldn’t breathe for a second, and then I exploded into her face. She quickly moved away, and a second later her eyes met mine, a wicked half smile on her face that said she wasn’t quite finished. She leaned forward and kissed me full on the mouth, her tongue pushing mine down as I suddenly tasted a mouthful of my own jizz. I gagged for a second, surprised, but her weight on top of me gave her the advantage again, and there was nothing I could do but swallow the thick load.

“That ... that was incredible, Mistress!” I gasped as she lay beside her. I hadn’t realised before that just how much I’d missed the feeling of being dominated. It wasn’t essential, I would have given up sex altogether if that’s what it took to bring us closer, but it seemed like every different thing we tried made our relationship so much richer. “Did you enjoy it so much?”

“Yes,” just one word, but the inflection in her voice told a whole story. “Thankyou, Master,” and with that gasp, a little memory finally surfaced.

A few days before, I’d mentioned that it would be nice to be controlled once in a while. Clara, though, was submissive through and through, she couldn’t imagine taking control. But our good friend, my former Master Metamorpheus, had suggested something. Maybe, just maybe, I could hypnotise Clara and get her to play my Mistress for an hour or two. Would that work, I wasn’t sure, so He suggested we try a little experiment. We quickly agreed, of course. Clara would be Mistress C for an evening, and as long as that lasted, it would be easy to believe that she was in control. Metamorpheus had taken me into trance by email once more, though this time He allowed me to remember most of the suggestions, and had given me the words to take Clara to the right space in her mind.

He was a real gentleman, a nice guy despite all His claims to sadism. I’d never really had much respect for guys like that, not six months ago, but now I could see how much strength it must take to stick to His values even when it meant helping the object of His desire to have fun without Him. I hope some day, I can be a role model like that to someone. I know that I’ll keep on trying, as our relationship progresses, to treat my wife like He would have.

“It was ... amazing.” She giggled after a minute, the word ‘Master’ restoring her normal, everyday temprament. “It felt so good being in charge, like I was drunk on power. But now I look back, I didn’t choose a single thing. I just did exactly what you told me to, and its like I was a puppet. A passenger in my body, completely helpless!” And breathless, I noted, she was getting turned on again.

“So which do you prefer?” I asked, watching her cheeks redden again as her mind drifted back to those delicious sensations, “My slave, or my Mistress?”

“Whichever you want, Master,” she said without a trace of irony, then gasped as my questing fingers reached the top of her thigh, “Or both at once, that’s just ... wow, I can’t believe you can do that to me. But you know—uhh—as long as its with you, that’s all that—Oh, yes!”

Not quite a full answer, but I didn’t want to stop what I was doing then. And she was right, of course. As long as we’re together, that would be ... everything.