The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


Story Tags: MC, MA, FF

Description: An unusual case of hypnotic slavery forces Chloé to take drastic measures to heal her patient. But will temptation get the better of her first?

Author’s Note — This story is a work of fiction and in no part should be taken as anything except fantasy, and it intends no offence. It involves very, very adult situations.

Communiqué encouraged.

“I have to be honest, Chloé. These sessions have been exhausting. It took all of my strength just to come back today ...”

“But you did make it here, Amy. You need to think of that as a positive. I know this has been hard for you. You’ve suffered a terrible trauma. As I told you at the very beginning, yours is a very unusual case. Normally, my job as a therapist is to help my patients by utilising hypnosis in a positive manner. I’ve never had someone ask to be … de-hypnotised, I guess we can call it.”

Amy visibly trembled with repressed fear at the very mention of hypnosis. Each session of therapy thus far had been painful, having to recount her ordeal to a stranger. The fear of judgement was paralysing at first. But with patience and care, Chloé had built up a bond of trust between them. She was a skilled counsellor and had long experience of helping her patients overcome their early reticence. She had seen the signs of damage in Amy immediately. A tumour was poisoning this girl’s soul, and it required surgical removal. Chloé would have to dig deep into her subject’s subconscious to do so, and she required Amy’s full co-operation to do so.

“Have you thought about what we discussed during yesterday’s session?”

“Yes. And … it did make more sense, the longer I thought about it.”

“That’s good. We’re making progress. Now we can continue in the way we discussed.”

“I want to tell you … it’s just, I don’t think I can do it all. Please don’t make me go through it again. You know how ashamed I am. I haven’t told another soul about what really happened, when I was a slave. I just die when I think about it. I try not to, I really do, but a memory will pop into my head and I’ll just break down all over again.” She buried her head in her hands.

“Amy. I know how much pain you’re in, but you know that you can’t heal without professional aid. You took the initiative and decided to book these sessions. That tells me you want to recover, and you need assistance to do so. I am an expert, and I can provide that assistance. But it really requires you to open up fully to me. I can’t begin to help you until I understand exactly what was done to you. I need to know everything.” She continued softly;

“Remember, my treatment office is a completely safe place. It will always just be you and me in these sessions, and once my door is locked we will never be interrupted. When you confront your memories, you will start to realise they no longer have any power over you.”

Chloé had slowly coaxed out whole sordid story over several sessions. First in painful, strangled sentences, then in sobbing spurts. Amy had been tricked through hypnosis. She had submitted her body and soul to a powerful, cruel hypnodomme, and in so doing, became her sexual slave. She suffered many degrading, humiliating tortures. Chloé’s therapy room had turned into a black lake of writhing, disturbing memories, and she had to reel them up one by one and land them in the light.

An hour of breathing exercises before each session helped Chloé mask her excitement at each erotic revelation. If she inadvertently revealed how turned on she was, listening to these stories of submission, the bond of trust would be shattered. She affected a veneer of cool professionalism as she listened to Amy’s confessions.

Amy had been so thoroughly conditioned, when she chanted a specific phrase, she would sink into trance by herself. There, post-hypnotic suggestions would trigger new phrases to repeat. Awake, she could not remember them. Under, each one would destroy her resistance just a little more, and leave her more receptive to her Mistresses control. After she had thus chanted herself into oblivion, she would eagerly agree to anything. Anything at all.

“She would come home every evening from her job. I had to be there already, waiting for her. She’d told me to be naked at all times in her home. She would make me lie down on the floor, and lick her shoes clean. No matter how dirty they were. Once she was satisfied, she would pull them off, and I would suck her toes. I would lick between each one. It was disgusting, but I adored the taste! I’d swallow it down gratefully! By the time I was finished I would be rubbing myself all over her carpet. I loved the feeling of my nipples pressed against the rough fabric.”

Chloé could feel her own nipples throb at that, but breathed deeply to calm herself.

“She—she would keep her … her hair down there, trimmed just long enough that it would scratch all over my face when she made me pleasure her. I would have to go into work the next day with red burn marks on my nose and lips. I knew everyone could see and they would know … they would know … ”

The tales steadily became more depraved as Amy drew back the veil. It went far beyond any traditional roles of Mistress and servant. This beautiful young lady had willingly transformed herself into a creature less than a whore.

Her Mistress would command her to finger herself in public, on trains, under restaurant tables, during happy hour in seedy bars. She would keep her on edge for hours. And when she felt like it, she would pick out someone, and tell her slave to beg this stranger to let her cum. Sometimes they just assumed she was joking and say yes, only to recoil in shock as Amy shook and jerked in orgasm before them. Still, those were the red letter days. Mostly they would be horrified, walking away disgustedly. Distraught, Amy would follow them and beg like a mewling kitten. But sometimes, sometimes they would demand something in return. Whatever it was, Amy would do. She would do anything for that orgasm.

“And the worst thing was, I loved every single second of it! Every degrading thing she made me do. She seemed to love thinking up more and more twisted things … I think she even made me tell her about desires I didn’t even know I felt. Whatever would sicken me, humiliate the most would end up turning me on when conscious. And then later, I would act them out!”

* * *

Chloé tried not to, but the idea of having this voluptuous young woman under her own control had begun to dominate her mind. The urge had become stronger after every session. Amy couldn’t help but ooze sex, even in her most vulnerable moments. After each session, images of this hypnotised girl prostrating herself at Chloé’s feet, naked and malleable, crowded her mind. She would end each session and gently guide her patient out. She would hurriedly lock the door and immediately masturbate, knickers around her thighs. She contemplated what she would make Amy do if she had such power. Chloé knew she should be feeling tremendous shame. She was a disgrace; this was a perversion of her position of trust, and she knew it. She should end these sessions, but she just couldn’t. They were too hot not to.

Amy’s Mistress would sit and watch her slave do all the work, hypnotising herself into sluttish submission. It was perfect. Sometimes Amy would receive a call on her mobile whilst in work. She couldn’t not answer. The voice would begin whispering the phrase, and the poor girl would obediently join in. She would wake to find herself gulping down the orgasm of a stranger in the toilets of some dive. Male or female, it made no difference. She would spend nights taking close-up selfies of her holes, plugged and stretched by huge dildos that dripped with her juices. Then she would post them on internet forums, along with her name and phone number. She would blink her eyes open to find herself kneeling, waiting for her Mistress to screw her boyfriend to climax, so she could gently remove his condom and suck it clean. All because she had talked herself into it.

“I was just her human wet-wipe those nights.” Amy had sobbed.

After enough sessions, Amy learned at last to really trust her therapist, to open up fully to her. Chloé had managed to disguise her own desires adequately. Now she could coax her to self-induce. And once those secret phrases were hers, Chloé could help her. Or control her. This terrible dilemma had finally arrived. Like a crazy, irrational urge to leap from a bridge, Chloé still didn’t know which way she would jump.

“Remember you’re in a safe place, Amy. I won’t judge you, and I promise I won’t be shocked. But I can tell how these memories are twisting you up inside. Keeping such painful secrets can cause you actual physical pain, you know. Think of me as a receptacle for your secrets. Only when you let them out can you begin to free yourself of them.”

“Yes … yes. I know you’re right. I trust you now.”

“That’s so good, Amy. Now, in order to help you break free, we need to find those subliminal commands and destroy them. And in order to find them, I need you to show me exactly how you hypnotised yourself. Do feel ready to do that?”

“If I have to … yes. At first, I had to strip naked and kneel in front of Mistress, but soon it didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing. Anyway, all I had to do was repeat: “I am deep and wet for you”. Over and over. I would ... I would put one finger inside myself. I would push in as I said, “I am deep ...” And pull out as I said, “… wet for you.” I would feel so aroused and my mind would go all fuzzy. And the pleasure would build and make me drip.” Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

“Then came the chants I don’t remember. I would recite them and I would cum. And then the commands would begin ...I can’t do it in front of you. Please don’t make me.”

“You said it yourself, Amy: You can’t remember the phrases say to push you deeper, but only you can say them. I need to learn those phrases in order to set you free.”

Amy was obviously still suspicious. If she lost herself she could be at Chloé’s mercy, and they both knew it. How could she possibly convince her? Chloé realised she would have to try something drastic to lead this girl where she wanted her to go.

“If I get naked with you, will that help you to trust me?” Amy’s eyes widened in shock at this.

“Amy, you really can trust me. I will not take advantage of you. I only want to help. That’s all I want to do. If we do it together, I can make sure you stay safe. I won’t go under and that will encourage you to resist. That’s how we’ll rid your subconscious of these hidden triggers. Remember, your Mistress buried them so deeply they will be very difficult to remove. This is the only way.”

There was a long silence, as the girl weighed up these soothing words. She made a fateful choice.

“Well … okay. I do trust you. Just promise to protect me if I fall completely under.”

“I will. I promise. Now, I’ll take off my clothes first. When you’re ready, we’ll kneel together with no more barriers between us except the ones in your mind. Then, we’ll work together to erase them.”

As calmly as possible, Chloé stripped out of her blouse and skirt, her tights and underwear. She didn’t want to betray her excitement. The therapist knelt before her patient, palming her hair down and affecting a relaxed smile. Amy remained seated, still looking tremendously anxious. The chance of freedom came with the terrible risk being bound to a new Mistress, and she knew it. She looked to be wavering. Could Amy smell her arousal? Was it so obvious already? Eventually, Amy seemed to decide to go through with this exorcism after all. She unbuttoned her shirt. Thank God, Chloé thought. Thank God.

On their knees facing each other, therapist watched her patient carefully, ready to study her auto-induction. It was important to learn as much as she could, for future reference. Her subject was immaculately beautiful in the nude. Pale and full figured, with breasts perky despite their fullness, and a carefully trimmed mons venus. Amy reluctantly moved her hand to her sex. Chloé watched her slide her index finger up and down, spreading her arousal over her lips. Despite herself, she clearly found this familiar routine highly erotic. She began to intone the words she used to hypnotise herself.

“I am deep and wet for you. I am deep and wet for you. I am deep and wet for you.”

Chloé watched, pleased as Amy slipped her finger easily into herself. She mirrored her, pushing a finger into her own wetness. Their eyes met as they repeated the words together.

“I am deep and wet for you. I am deep and wet for you. I am deep and wet for you.”

Amy’s finger fell into the rhythm she had described, in with the first part of her trigger phrase, out with the second part. It was agonisingly slow. As they kept their eyes locked together, Chloé understood why Amy’s Mistress had chosen this method of induction. The slow building pleasure reinforced the words. The words reinforced the pleasure. All other thoughts were washed away, and placed the subject into a trance through desire alone. This woman really was very clever. If Chloé didn’t possess an expert knowledge of hypnotism, she knew she could easily fall for such a trick. But she could control her pleasure. It didn’t control her.

Both women continued chanting and fingering for painfully long minutes. They spoke the words in unison. Occasionally a soft moan would interrupt Amy’s chanting. Chloé noted her eyes become glassy and distant. She gently rocked her hips. She was slipping and would soon be under any minute now. Soon Amy would spill out those secret words and Chloé would have her. Perhaps just a taste of that delicious domination before she sets her free … a mind-blowing orgasm, then her job … make her forget and force her to do it all again … a willing slut just for her forever and ever …

“I am deep … and … ooh! wet ... I am deep, uhh ... wet for you. I am deep … wet … ”

Chloé tried to keep her own arousal in check, but watching and chanting in time with this girl as she hypnotised herself was extremely erotic. Trickling honey rolled down and dripped onto her office carpet. She was so eager to discover her patient’s secrets. She imagined the power she would soon have over this girl. She shivered and resisted the urge to speed up her own finger, despite the sweet agony. It was important to mirror Amy exactly, so she would not stop.

“I am … deep … and wet … for you … I am … deep … and wet … for you … ”

Chloé found herself wishing she was swaying with the same pleasure Amy was obviously feeling. She watched the switch get flicked, watched her subject’s eyes go completely blank. Her own eyes burned in anticipation. They both moaned together. Amy’s eyelids fluttered and didn’t open. Chloé let her lids shutter too. Enjoy the moment. It felt so wonderful. Amy was so deep for her … and wet for her … and she was deep … and wet … and …

“I am … deep … and … and wet … and … ”

“You are deep and wet for me.”

“I am deep and wet for you … ”

“Deep and wet for me.”

“Deep and wet for you.”

Amy studied Chloé, now dreamily repeating the words alone. She was soaking wet, mostly from sweat, but her hand and thighs shone with slick arousal. She was rolling her shoulders in a circular motion, all her focus on her own voice, and the mounting pleasure between her legs.

Amy crept cat-like over to her, careful not to let Chloé hear another sound. But she was safely lost in her own head now, a gentle smile playing across her lips. Amy smiled too as she watched her. Another bead of sweat rolled down between Chloé’s swaying breasts and over her belly. Amy started chanting a new phrase.

“I want to open my mouth. I want to open my mouth. I want to open my mouth.”

Chloé smoothly segued into this new routine, no longer remembering who was to speak and who was to listen. She was happy either way. But after just a few repetitions, she was slurring the words as her mouth went slack. She had taken the faster beat of this new phrase as a signal to speed up her finger ever so slightly, letting her own pleasure build. Encouraged by her lack of resistance, Amy started the next phrase, a degree more urgently.

“I want to taste my Mistress. I want to taste my Mistress. I want to taste my Mistress.”

Chloé dutifully parroted this new phrase along with the increased tempo. Her finger pumped in time. She was eager to orgasm now, and felt somehow that the words would deliver her there soon. When Amy let her continue alone, the words turned into a horny moan.

“Taste my Mistress. Taste my Mistress. Taste my Mistress. Taste. Taste. Taste.”

Chloé’s voice came out only in Mmms as she sucked Amy’s finger into her mouth. She sucked in time with her finger thrusts, tasting the hot sweetness coating her Mistresses finger. Amy pressed her free hand down onto Chloé’s pumping hand, taking over as the therapists own arm went limp. Chloé jerked her hips forward greedily. Minutes passed as her pleasure boiled. Thrusting her fingers as she bobbed her head desperately, Amy whispered her new phrase when she felt Chloé could take no more.

“Cumming. Cumming. Cum ...”

Chloé fell off the edge by the third repetition. With her mouth holding on to Amy’s finger, she erupted. She moaned into the finger. She clenched around the invading digit. Amy did not relent. She kept up her pumping control and drew out Chloé’s pleasure until her mind joined her body in all-consuming love. She collapsed as if shot through the medulla oblongata. She died and was reborn on her office carpet, wet and happy and completely hypnotised.

Amy was not done. While Chloé lay boneless, she pounced upon her. The therapist would have no time to regain her senses. Her erstwhile patient pulled her up by her shoulders and dragged her back onto her knees with no resistance. Chloé’s eyes remained distant, her body limp. Something wonderful had happened thanks to someone she had called her Mistress. Amy slithered behind her, one arm holding her up under her breasts, while her other hand slipped over Chloé’s dribbling crotch. She hotly welcomed Amy’s fingers again, and melted backwards. With a beckoning motion, Amy began pressing into Chloé’s g-spot. Immediately the entranced woman writhed with fresh excitement. Her spine stiffened. Amy took advantage of her rigidity to loosen her arm and run her fingers over Chloé’s nipples, teasing each alternately with a feather touch as she thrummed her most sensitive spot. This orgasm was to be a quick mind-melter to really break down this expert’s defences. Squeezing closer in, she pressed her breasts into Chloé’s back, holding her firm despite the now violent shudders. Amy began whispering into her ear, reciting fresh phrases.

“I love to obey. I love to obey. I love to obey.”

“I love to obey. I love to obey. I love to obey.”

Chloé dutifully took over the chant. Amy rewarded her with harder strokes. Any resistance that was left quickly evaporated. She would say anything to feel more pleasure, and in such a supple condition, her subconscious would remember these words, filed away to be retrieved later.

“Obey Mistress. Obey Mistress. Obey Mistress.”

Obey Mistress, Oh!, Mistress, Obey Mistress.” Faster. Harder. Squeezing her breasts now.

“Mistress Amy. Mistress Amy. Mistress Amy.”

Mistress Amy, Mistress … Mistr’ss … ” Constant manipulation now. And just as Chloé was about to peak again, the final command.

“Cum Now. Cum Now. Cum!

Fireworks of purest white love followed by a totality of warm black.

As they splayed out together on the floor, Chloé spooned into the heat of the one behind her, the one who had given her so much pleasure. The one she called Mistress. Amy stroked and soothed her body. She lightly teased her tingling clit as she whispered and whispered into Chloé’s open mind; reinforcing the connection between her hypnotic suggestions and the absolute pleasure she had given her. It had been getting easier every session to make her go under. Soon Chloé would talk herself into a wet funk without all the subterfuge. And then the fun would really begin. Amy had planted so many ideas already.

* * *

Chloé blinked. What had happened? She had been helping Amy, she remembered. She had listened to her stories of submission and humiliation, trying to ignore her own arousal. That was utterly unprofessional. Still, the thoughts of being dominated like that did give her a thrill. Submitting just as Amy did. Submitting to a Mistress. Sucking on a finger, licking at toes. I would love to obey, she thought.

Still … still, she felt something important had happened with Amy during this session. A breakthrough in her treatment. She felt very pleased, despite the uncomfortable feeling of dampness over her skin, as though she had showered and dressed without towelling dry. The taste of success was sweet.

Amy’s voice broke her reverie. She looked up to see her beautiful patient beaming back at her, looking relieved.

“Thanks so much, Chloé. I think I made real progress today.”

“That’s wonderful to hear … I’m glad to help you through this.” She was already thinking about finally being alone, so she could finger herself to her fantasies of submitting to a powerful hypno-Mistress.

“Oh trust me, you really are. I think I’m ready to show exactly you how I was hypnotised. We can work on that tomorrow, maybe?”

“I can’t wait.” Chloé really couldn’t. She was willing to do anything for Amy.