The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I don’t usually stray when I’m on the road. No—not that. I mean I pretty much stay at the hotel: eat in the hotel and then back to the room to work until lights out. But a couple of the hotels have pretty good restaurants attached or across the parking lot. This one, for example, serve a really good grilled chicken sandwich. About a third of the breast falls outside the bun, and the sliced potatoes come with half a dozen sauces (you just have to ask nicely). The bar is roomy enough to open the laptop, and there is a mix of travelers and locals for conversation if that’s your preference.

Tonight, it was a local next to me. Between bites, emails, and queries from the bartender, we had enough of an amiable conversation to continue it after the plates were cleared. We bought a round for the other.

Halfway through this, the compulsion to go outside for a moment grew and grew. A pause in the conversation occurred, and so I blurted out, “Sorry, would you excuse me a moment; I need to step out to the patio.”

“Sure,” he said. “Need to make a call?”

“Ahhhh, no,” I said. I leaned down and retrieved my briefcase and pulled out a plastic grocery bag with a pack and a lighter wrapped in it. “Just a brief break; I’ll be right back.”

Turning to the bartender, I asked, “Dawn, are there ashtrays on the patio or do I need to get one from you?”

She held up one finger and walked to the end, pulling one out and placing it on the end of the bar.

“Thanks,” I said getting up.

“Mind if I go with you?” said the fellow. “I could do with a break too.”

“Watch our stuff, Dawn?” I said as we went out.

“Maybe,” she shot back. Like I said, friendly neighborhood place.

Holding the door open for the fellow, I remarked, “As long as we are taking this to another level, I’m Charles.”

“Fair enough,” he said as he slid through. “Steve.”

We took a table in the corner.

I unwrapped the bag, took out the pack and lighter and stuffed the bag in my pocket. Steve frowned a bit. “That’s a bit unusual way to carry your stuff,” he gestured.

“Eh,” I shrugged. “I’m not really a smoker. I turned 50 two months ago, and I never tried it growing up, and so I thought what the hell.”

“And the bag?”

“It came with the purchase,” I shrugged. “My wife—although she used to—would hit me with a bat, after she got over the shock. I’m an endurance athlete and have always been ‘pure’. Never tried drugs, don’t drink to excess, etc., etc.”

I was fumbling with the pack, trying to get one out and hold the lighter at the same time.

“Clearly a neophyte,” Steve observed.

“Yeah, first pack. I keep it hidden in the trunk, take it out at the airport.”

I finally got everything in the right place, cupped the lighter which took five flicks to get it going. Taking the first inhale, I settled back.

“Like I said, you need practice,” Steve said, taking out an e-cigarette. The cylinder was a metallic blue and sparkly. He rolled it in his fingers for me to see.

“So how did you get the courage to take the plunge?”

I hesitated and inhaled again. He leaned forward, exhaling in my direction. His exhale was very fragrant. I sniffed it as it went by.

“Well?”

I smiled. “Unaccustomed as I am to sharing personal secrets with a stranger I have just met,” I said, trying to disarm the question, “I suppose I can trust you?”

“Strangers in the night,” he said.

My third inhale and starting to feel the nicotine, I relaxed and started talking.

“I’ve always had a smoking fetish. My mom and all her friends smoked. It was on TV and the movies. My wife smoked for a little while. And then came the Internet and You Tube. So that kept me occupied. But there was one video I kept going back to. A very attractive woman—Julia I think—had one where she teased the viewer with ‘so you want to be smoker like me’ and then described how to do it. And so, a month or so ago, took a double Scotch back to the room, and watched the video over and over and sort of hypnotized myself to block the inhibitions and obey her.”

My fourth inhale. And his exhale again in my direction.

Leaning in again he asked, “Then what.”

“I just kept repeating her words—be a smoker like me, you want to do this—and walked next door to the convenience store and then straight back to the smoking area by the hotel. I bought some ultralights and did what she said. So, I didn’t inhale at first and then had a second one. I inhaled this time and halfway through, the nicotine hit. I sobered up a moment or two later and then tossed the pack away. But the next trip I tried a different brand, and later a third, and now a fourth brand, which I seem to like.

My fifth inhale.

“Self-hypnosis, huh?” he remarked.

I was very relaxed now. “Yeah—another erotic fetish.”

My sixth inhale, as well as some more of his, now blown directly to me.

“So, it was sexual?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I guess I was sort of dominating myself with my fetishes and submitting to myself to overcoming my resistance. Damn—that’s circular.”

My seventh inhale. The buzz is building now.

“So, you tried a few different ones, why are you still smoking?” He asked—a full exhale towards me.

“I get a real buzz from the nicotine-endorphin-dopamine—whatever causes the surge right about this point in the cigarette,”

I’m trying to keep my thoughts focused so I make sense but not wanting to disrupt the buzz. “I only have one or two a week so the rush is there every time.”

“It sure is,” he said. “Very, very relaxing.”

My eighth inhale. “One more left,” I said smiling. “And then I’m going to be silent a moment until the numbness passes.” And again, a full exhale towards me.

“So, what else tempts you?” he asked. “There’s lots of fetishes out there,” he paused. “And lots of videos.”

My ninth inhale. I stub it out and settle back.

Closing my eyes, I murmured, “What makes you think there’s more?”

“I know people,” he said. “And I know compulsion—and domination and submission. So, what else have you submitted to?”

I was deep in the buzz. He had a nice voice. His cigarette was so fragrant. And how did he know?

“Go ahead, I could guess, but why don’t you tell me? I’m fascinated by how you convinced yourself to act on them?”

I’m still floating. ‘Strength?’ I thought. ‘Maybe, or maybe I just lowered my inhibition and made myself believe I was a slut and acted on it?”

“I—I found some other types of hypnosis videos,” I trailed off.

“What sort?” he prodded. Another whiff of his cigarette.

I didn’t reply, the buzz was flattening out.

As I came up and out, I smiled weakly, “I don’t think, I mean I’m not comfortable—”

He leaned in further, his voice was low. “Sure, I understand. I’m a total stranger and I’m asking for secrets. But after this we’ll never see each other again, so what’s the harm. I’m interested.”

“Well, I don’t know,” I muttered.

“Here, try mine—get relaxed again, it’ll help. Just let me switch it out. You enjoyed the fragrance, didn’t you? I could tell you liked it.”

“OK,” I got out.

Reaching over I took it from him. “Just inhale?” I asked.

“Yep, it’s automatic. And between the inhales I like to roll the tube. It catches the light and helps me focus.”

“Kind of self-hypnosis too,” I remarked.

“If you want. You’re no stranger to it as you’ve told me. Come on, take couple of hits and talk to me.”

My legs were still tingling but I was pretty much back now. I took it from his hand

“Charles,” he said softly. “Go ahead—relax and try this.”

I put to my lips and inhaled gently. The taste was smooth, the fragrance was pleasant. I exhaled a plume.

“Again,” he said. “Deeper.”

I did.

“And one more,” he was firmer this time.

I obeyed. The buzz came back quickly.

“You feel it now, don’t you?”

I smiled, “yessssss,” I murmured.

“Now, just sit back, rotate the tube in the light and watch how it sparkles,” he instructed.

I did as I was told.

“Relax and tell me what you did.”

I watched the tube catch the light. It was captivating.

“Tell me—tell yourself you can do it, just like you did when you let the lady in the video tell you what to do.”

I brought the tube up and took a deep inhale and rotated it for another minute, telling myself to give in, to submit, to drop the barrier.

I looked up, one more inhale and the buzz flooded through me.

I looked over at him—at his eyes—and gave in.

“I saw a video about eating your own cum,” I whispered.

“OK, and?” he gestured for me to go on.

“And so, I looked at a couple, and then a couple more, and then found one that was very compelling.

“Tell me.”

I looked down and turned the tube as I let it out, “It was a layered video—strobes, words, a dominatrix talking, a woman in the background in latex smoking a 120. I just watched her cigarette and listened to the Dominatrix tell me to listen, that I was a slut, a slave, I wanted to please her. She knew I was ready now to obey her and do it.”

“And so?”

I let it out in a rush, turning the tube faster, “I watched it a couple of times, went and got the lotion and a wash cloth, started in again and began stroking.” I paused.

The buzz was there. I took another deep inhale, held it, and then exhaled it watching the smoke drift upwards.

I looked at him, “I came quickly.”

“And did you eat it?” he prodded.

“One lick,” I sighed.

“But you tried again, didn’t you?”

How did he know?

“And what happened?”

“Three licks the next time—and then the third time, I licked it all.”

“And it wasn’t disgusting was it?”

Staring back at the tube, I relaxed. The secret was out—nothing else to do now. “No,” I said, “It wasn’t; it was sort of warm and smooth.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No,” I smiled. “I guess not.”

“Good,” he said. His voice changed tone, “now, take one more deep inhale and focus on the tube and listen closely to me.”

I did as instructed.

“So, you’ve hypnotized yourself to smoke and then to eat your cum. You’ve dropped your barriers and accepted the domination be another—first the smoker and then the Domme. And you are comfortable with being a slut and being controlled by another. The smoking reduced the inhibition and allowed you to be controlled. And the same is happening now. Opening up to me, accepting my cigarette, smoking it as I have instructed, becoming entranced by the tube as you twirl it in your fingers now—you have allowed yourself to fall under my spell.”

I heard him. I was stunned. But I could not speak. And my fingers were still twirling the tube.

“Inhale again and hold it.”

I did.

“Exhale, slowly.”

I did.

“Look at me. Look right at me, at my eyes.”

I slowly leaned towards him.

“You are so relaxed now, but totally submissive to me. This is your fetish, your fantasy—being controlled by another. And you have hypnotized yourself to be that way, haven’t you?

“Yes,” I said, my eyes not moving from his. I was, I thought, I was under his control—his eyes, his voice, the reflection of the tube, the fragrance.

“One last inhale,” he instructed. “Then we will go inside. You will follow and obey me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes sir,” he corrected.

“Yes sir,” I said, not looking away as I took my last inhale and then put the tube in his hand.

I stood, wobbling. I reached for the pack and lighter.

“Leave those,” he said as he came around the table.

He put his arm around me, his hand under my arm pit—steadying, but guiding.

As we went inside, he picked up my briefcase. Dawn came over. Steve said, “He’s a little woozy; I’m walking him back to his room; his usual tip and charge to the room.” He turned me towards her, “right?”

“Yeah, please,” I nodded.

I looked back at his eyes. He gestured towards the door. I leaned into him as we went to the lobby.

“What room?” he demanded, pushing the up button. I told him. Once inside, he turned me to him. He brought his thumb up and gently brushed my lips back and forth.

“You want this. You want me to control you. You want to do as I say. You have put yourself under my spell.”

My lips parted, and I caressed his thumb. I never looked away from his eyes. All I could think was how I had no control. I had allowed myself to smoke; I had allowed myself to eat my own cum; I was allowing this man to take control of me now.

The door opened and he kept me in his grasp as I walked to the room.

Once inside, he turned me toward him again, taking my face in his hands.

“Go turn on your computer—show me the cum eating video.”

“Yes sir,” I whispered.

I had left it in standby. I opened the folder where I had it and others stored. I hit play.

The strobe started. “Look at me, look directly at me,” the voice said. I felt Steve’s hands on my shoulders, caressing my neck, sending shivers up and down my spine.

“Charles, now turn and look at me, look directly at me. You asked me up to your room to show me your trigger. You did this because you want to. You want me to fulfill your other fetish, and because you want to please me. Just like you pleased her. But you now know this is what you have been heading towards. You put something between your lips that now gives you intense pleasure and you have not been able to stop. You have eaten you own cum several times and you enjoyed the taste. Now it’s time to do both. You want this—you want to please me.

I could not look away from his eyes. I could not deny what he was saying. I had taken two steps towards becoming a slut—a cum eating slut—and I had no control now.

I put one hand on his crotch and stroked it slowly, up and down, looking at his eyes, still feeling the buzz from his cigarette.

I licked my lips and put my other hand on his ass.

“I want this,” I said.

He quickly dropped his pants and shorts. His cock was stirring and rising.

“Do it. Tell yourself you want this. Repeat it over and over. You want this—you want this.”

“I do,” I whispered. “I do want this.”

I began slowly kissing the head, opening wider and wider as I took him further and further in. His hands caressing my neck and head, gently applying pressure as I went further and further down. Pulling back to swirl my tongue around him, pushing him from one cheek to the other and then descending to take him further in.

His moans grew closer, I could taste the salty, slick pre-cum. And then he stiffened and exploded.

“Take it, take it all, suck it in, suck it all,” he gasped.

I kept going until he shuddered and staggered back, sitting on the bed and then falling back.

I leaned back in the chair, swallowing to get it all down.

In the background I could hear the video saying, “good boy, good slut, good slave, take it all in.”

Moments later, Steve lifted himself up, stood and pulled his pants up, all the while holding my eyes with his.

He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a card wallet. “Keep this. You will call me next time you are in town. You will meet me here for a drink and then we will go out on the patio for a chat. Before you come down to meet me, you will watch the video to remind you that you are a cock sucking slut and that you want to please me. You will tell yourself that as you come to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir.” I said.

And as I brushed my teeth later, I looked hard at myself in the mirror, thinking I am now a slut. I am now a cum-eating, cock sucking slut. And he was right. I did want this.

I did need to do this. And I will call him.