The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Drive me crazy!”, he said as he dropped to one knee. “Push me right over the edge till I lose my mind.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” Her reply was as much a tease as a warning.

And she began to slowly peel away her winter clothing, letting each piece fall to the concrete floor of the underground parking garage like so much discarded rubbish, as if it was being abandoned forever. The cold did not seem to bother her in the least and he marvelled at this, for he himself was freezing. Curious now that he did not feel any warmth spreading from within, no sexual fire being ignited by the progressing sight of her exquisite form. Instead he could swear that he was beginning to feel numb of body and mind, sort of like falling asleep while watching TV when totally exhausted. One can still hear the voices coming from the television, and even though one’s eyes are closed, one can still imagine that one sees what is taking place on the screen.

“Is this what you wanted?”, she cooed. That voice was too much! Smoother than any silk and more cunning than a fox.

He tried to speak but couldn’t. Was this sleep? Was this a dream? No, there was just enough sense of the present situation to confirm that it was all real. She had undressed down to naught but her black stockings and he was kneeling paralyzed as he watched. No speech was possible and no movement. A comforting numbness engulfed him almost completely, all except for a tiny spark of awareness that remained focused like a moth on a flame, focused on her.

She lay down on her stomach, the frigid concrete making no protest. It was as if she was laying down on top of him, his mind and body just as cold, and just as unable to respond.

“Is this how you imagined I would drive you crazy?”, she giggled.

And now he saw the folly of his request. When she had caught his eye on the street above and coaxed him down here with promises of a sexual experience unlike anything he could possibly fathom, he had envisioned feeling pleasurable emotions of extreme intensity. He had hoped to reach some madness of excess. This, however, was quite the opposite, being temptation so terrifying in it’s power that he would give anything just to be able to move or speak, and torturous in it’s denial in that he could do neither. His very existence had been reduced to purely intellectual speculation. There was no desire to be felt, no heat of lust, and no palpitating heart. He could see her and hear her. He could even smell her. But try as he might he could not react in any way whatsoever.

How long would she writhe on the floor like that? How long would this agony of numbness endure? Every second seemed like a minute and every minute like an hour. He was being driven crazy, all right, and as the last vestiges of sanity gave way to a timeless madness of erotic fantasy unfulfilled, she slowly, ever so slowly, turned her head towards him and spoke one arrow-like word. And like an arrow it drove straight to the core of his being, piercing and impaling, burning and jolting. The word reverberated back and forth within him like a great wave of hope bouncing between two walls of possibility and despair. It was a command his intellect wished he could obey with total enthusiasm and feeling. Yet he could do no more than wish as he heard that word, wish and remember without any physical sensation, wish and dream in dizzying paralysis of what could not possibly be. The word from her lips pushed him over the edge, but not to where he ever dreamed he would go.

“Come!”, she said. And he was trapped like stone.

It had been hours since the last car owner had come down into the parking garage and driven away. With the tatters that were left of his imagination he figured that it must now be night outside and that no one was likely to come down here till tomorrow morning. He was so cold. That was the only sensation she left him after train-wrecking his mind with the madness of tease and denial the likes of which most people would never fathom, then leaving him there paralyzed and kneeling on concrete like some sort of perverse figurine discarded by a deviant giantess. She had seemed like that to him near the end, a giantess, so large her control and so small his ability to resist. She had dwarfed his desire with her beautiful sovereignty, her ruthless, irresistible, and twisted dominance. This experience, however, far from teaching him a lesson in caution, had birthed in him a craving for more. He felt he absolutely must find her and plead with her to tease him beyond madness again.

More hours passed and time melted into a meaningless haze of blurred memories, thoughts of how his life had been before he had followed her down here, thoughts of how it would be now if he spent the rest of his days searching for her and, heaven forbid, did not find her. No other amorous or sexual adventure would do. He had to have HER. Or rather, he had to find her so that she could have him. It must have been early morning when the cleaning lady found him still kneeling there. Initially she had wanted to call security, figuring him for either a drug addled street person who had wandered down here before the gate was closed or the victim of some horrible crime. Her second guess was as close as the first, of course, but she eventually decided to speak to him. He seemed well dressed and had a “normal” looking face. (If only she could have read his thoughts she would surely have cringed.)

As soon as she spoke he felt a hot prickly rush of sensation surge back into his body, like what one feels when an arm or leg has gone to sleep and is awakened suddenly by sharp movement. Desire, too, now pulsed into his loins and mind. He was returning to the realm of the living, back from some fantastic journey into dark and forbidding lands where only the most demented souls go. It was painful and he gasped, but he was glad that he could move again. He told the cleaning lady that he was all right and had just been sick to his stomach. The lie appeared to work and he thanked her for her concern, walking as quickly as his aching body would allow back up into the light of day. He had only one thing on his mind and that was to find her, that overwhelmingly gorgeous woman who had taken him to the edge of sexual insanity and beyond. He did not hunger for the release of orgasm. He hungered with every fibre of his being for the promise of orgasm and the permanent breaking of that promise. He realized that he was addicted to this newfound excitement of pleasure withheld but he just didn’t care. He needed what he needed and that was that.

All day and all the next night he searched the streets, the restaurants, and the hotels for her, all to no avail. He did not stop to eat or even drink, and every time feelings of hunger for food or thirst for water welled up in him he dismissed them as if they were rude interruptions upon the most urgent of errands. This sense of urgency drove him well into the next day until he collapsed on the narrow sidewalk of a small back street. Two foreign tourists had seen him fall and rushed to his aid, and when they could draw no response had summoned an ambulance.

In the hospital he was revived and answered all questions posed by doctors and nurses with the convincing and sane manner of someone who had simply succumbed to a sudden bout of flu. He was given juice to drink and some hot soup to eat, both of which he eagerly devoured. How wonderful the sensations of eating food again! Then he felt an instant shock of shame for revelling in a pleasure which was not given to him by HER. After half a day of observation he was about to be released when an old Jamaican nurse who had just come on shift noticed something that the others who had tended to him had not. It was not a thing which could be named, really, more a thing to be felt.

“Iz ya be havin’ a bahd dream then, mistah? Can ya not wake yaself back from where ya iz?”

Her query was hitting too close to home and he panicked. “Please, please, just let me go! I need to go! I MUST!”

“But ya iz not walkin’ in this wurld, monn. Ya iz walkin’ in da spirit wurld and ye looks ta be so lost.”

“I need to find someone!”, he said as he rose from the bed and shuffled to the locker at the side of the room. Opening the grey metal door and taking out his clothes he did not even think of visual privacy while he removed the hospital gown and donned his own garments. She eyed him suspiciously all the while as might an owl eye a mouse which had unknowingly strayed to close to it’s perch.

“Ya iz wild wit da fire, izn’t ya? Ya is goin’ to rush into da furnace like a drop o’ gasoline hungry for da flames!” And she was right. And he knew it but just didn’t care.

He did not exactly run out of the hospital, but he walked so quickly that he drew attention to himself that he would have preferred to have avoided. The Jamaican nurse had sounded no alarm, but by the time he reached the final door to the outside world there were several other nurses and orderlies pursuing him with some ridiculous prattle about signing this and that and needing to speak to the admitting physician in Emergency before he went home. Flinging open both glass doors, where calmly moving only one would have sufficed, as if to boast his escape in a gesture of grand defiance, he sprinted out into the sunny freshness of a new day. This was a new day filled with hope, for in it lurked the chance, infinitesimally small as it was, to find the woman from the parking garage. Oh, how he would fall to his knees at her feet! How he would bow his head in deepest humility! He would plead and cry and beg! He would utterly debase himself if that is what it took! He would surrender every last spark of his being in the desperate hope that she would tease him again, tease him to the point of psychosis and them push him over the brink with the ultimate authority of denial.

Scurrying away from the front doors of the hospital like a rabbit trying to avoid a pack of wolves, he managed to evade the following nurses and orderlies long enough to reach the busy street. There was too much traffic to ford the river of gnashing steel and the nearest crossing was hundreds of feet away. It looked as if he would be captured and detained, kept from completing his mission in life, but just then a low black sports car pulled to a stop in front of him and the passenger door swung open. “Get in!”, she said, ......... and he obeyed without thinking.

It was her! She had found HIM! He was saved, saved to a doom he happily accepted. “How did you find .......?” His question was cut off by a flashing smile from her perfect dark eyes.

“I always knew where you were. I could feel you. I could smell you. I watched you traipse all over the city like a lost puppy looking for me. That was so sweet!” He was not angry with her in the least. She could have told him that her intention was to tease him thus for months and he would have been jubilant just to be so used. “Now, little rabbit, .... that is what I will call you, ‘Little Rabbit’, I will take you out of this city to a place I know and there I will show you what real tease and denial is all about.” Her voice sounded like cool olive oil slipping across the strings of some imaginary cello, playing the most heartbreaking prelude to the most tragic opera of unrequited and impossible love.

He could not tell for how long she drove, winding first back and forth through crowded city streets as if trying to confuse someone who was blind folded and trying to remember the turns. But he was not blind folded. Or was he? Strain his mind as he might he could not seem to remember anything for more than ten or fifteen seconds. They would pull up to a stop light and notice a heated argument in the car next to them between husband and wife, but by the time the light had turned green he could not recall why he had been staring to one side. He definitely had a sense that he had been rubbernecking at something, but that something seemed hidden by mist. It was all very disconcerting. At last she piloted the little sports car free from the confines of the city and broke out onto a winding country road dotted here and there with pleasant dairy farms, some of them displaying quaint roadside stands of produce and flowers. The sky was bright blue and dappled with towering cumulous clouds which rolled from one side of the horizon to the other like great kingdoms of heavenly splendour marching in grand parade. Magnificent pillars of sunlight fell to Earth between them, projecting racing islands of vivid cheer across the welcoming hills.

As they neared one of these stands, this one advertising lemonade and staffed by two small girls, their grandest dreams for entrepreneurial success being assaulted by the reality of too little traffic, the man suddenly shouted out, “STOP!”, at which point the woman behind the wheel locked all for brakes and skidded the auto to a stop right in front of the stand. The two small girls were rather startled by this sudden maneuver but did not feel threatened enough to abandon their enterprise. “I want to buy you some lemonade!”, he shouted to the beautiful creature next to him. (Why had he just said that?)

“Thank you, Little Rabbit, you’re so sweet. How did you know I was thirsty?” Her huge dark eyes locked his gaze more expertly than any steel trap could lock a hapless leg.

“I ...... don’t ....... know .......”, came his stammered reply, to which she grinned broadly in mysterious silence, offering no more words, just a nod for him to exit the car and purchase the beverage.

He got out slowly, his mind racked with fear that she was going to play a trick on him and zoom away, leaving him here lost and alone without her attention. Walking gingerly to the stand he requested a cup of lemonade and paid for it with a five dollar bill, inviting the girls to keep the change. Faces now gleeful with thanks and giggling words to the effect that he should come again, they quickly closed up shop and headed down the long driveway towards the farmhouse. They had far exceeded their financial quota for the day.

He walked around to the driver’s side and held out the cold drink to his Mistress as if he were offering finest wine in gilded goblet. She smiled appreciatively as she took the paper cup from his hands and sipped with the long and slow assuredness of a contented cat. As she drank he felt an overwhelming sense of thirst rise within his throat. Although he had been filled to the brim with juice at the hospital only an hour before, now he felt as if he had been crossing the Sahara with no water for days. The lemonade in the little paper cup was cold enough to make it sweat on the outside and one lone ice cube floated happily about from side to side as she continued to slake her thirst with agonizing slowness. He seemed to be slowing down more and more as he watched her drink, and the slower his mind became the more intense his thirst, till at last he felt he could stand it no longer and was on the brink of pleading to have a sip for himself.

He did not do this, however, feeling it was important beyond all other things in the world at that very moment to not think of his own selfish needs and concentrate only upon the desires of his Mistress. That is how he thought of her now, “his Mistress”. She finished the last drop with deliberately drawn out languor, and then quick as a wink turned to him and yelled, “GOODBYE!” She jammed the sports car into gear as she said this and put her foot to the floor. A screech of burning rubber and a cloud of blue smoke erupted as she shot away down the road, going up through the gears like a professional race driver, until in shocked horror he saw her round a bend and disappear. Two hundred yards down the long driveway, having nearly reached the farmhouse, one girl turned to the other and said, “She’s done it to another one!” And they both burst forth in a flurry of giggles like bubbles welling up within joyous sea foam.

He felt like crying in despair, and so strong were his emotions of hopelessness that he failed to notice that as soon as the car had rounded the corner and passed out of sight all sound of the screaming engine had grown silent. She had stopped but he had not realized it. For perhaps ten minutes he sat on the side of the road and wept. He had felt that slight premonition that she would roar off and abandon him, but he had gotten out of the car anyway and taken the risk. He had done it to please her and it had been almost automatic, her thoughts somehow controlling his mind to shout “STOP” every bit as much as her words had controlled him to get out. He was her puppet and he knew it. He just wished that he could bask in her presence again, be teased past the edge of sanity again and become even more enthralled. He would do anything, he thought, if only he could have one more chance. But then, like a tiny unexpected draft interrupting the warmth and comfort of a cozy room, a little flash of doubt arose in his mind that perhaps “anything” was not a wise thing to offer after all.

Just as he had this thought a bird on a branch overhead burst into sweet song and he was jolted from his melancholy back into the here and now. He looked down the road again, hoping to see her returning, fearing she never would. Then, with the resolute strength of someone who knows what must be done no matter the overwhelming odds against success, he lifted himself up and began striding one pointedly in the direction of her escape. Walking thus for perhaps five minutes he attained the curve which his Mistress had vanished beyond, and there, to his everlasting amazement, he beheld her sitting not one hundred feet ahead upon the rear deck of the car, it’s engine now silent. She looked to be smiling at him, but he couldn’t tell until he was closer, and this gap he now closed with all the enthusiasm of a long lost adventurer finally gaining site of civilization for the first time in years. She seemed to shout him on with her great dark eyes, pulling him towards her faster and faster. As he neared to within ten feet of her he stumbled in his mad haste and fell forward flat on his stomach, outstretched hands scraping on the asphalt and drawing blood.

“Oh dear! Little Rabbit, are you quite alright?” Her voice was so coy and flirtatious that it drove him wild with longing. He was not alright, but he didn’t care. He was before her again and that was all that mattered. He could once again submit to her direct and overwhelming will. And then that same tiny doubt which had visited him back in front of the lemonade stand made a curtain call and sent a shock of reason quivering amongst his mad thoughts of sweetest lust denied. “What have you learned just now?”, she cooed, and he looked up at her from his position on the ground as would a prostrate pilgrim look up at the saviour of his longest yearnings. She smiled so kindly for an instant then, but catching his throbbing desire flooding back into his swirling mind, she flicked a switch inside of herself and converted her face into the scolding countenance of Earth’s strictest schoolmarm. He was paralyzed with longing for her, but he was also now paralyzed with fear that she was going to leave him again. “No, Little Rabbit, I’m going to take you with me this time. Get in!”

And without thinking, he did.

As the black sports car glided out further and further into the countryside the farms became more and more sparse and the sky in front of them began to darken, promising a thunder storm. Passing the last barn, Little Rabbit looked at the cows standing in the field, seemingly so content and satisfied, so passive and at peace with the world, and he had the curious thought that he wished he could be like one of them.

“Do you?”, she spoke, her verbal response to his silent musing jolting him from his reverie. How did she do that, read his mind?

“I ........ don’t really want to be a cow, Mistress. I don’t know why I thought that.” He blushed with embarrassment as he shoved these words out past parched lips. He was still terribly thirsty and the palms of his hands, although no longer bleeding, were throbbing with hot stinging pain.

“You should find out, you know. You really should.”

He thought to himself, “find out what?”, but before he could figure it out she spoke again.

“So now you realize that I am your Mistress. Correct?”

He nodded in the affirmative, suddenly unable to speak with the realization that he had just addressed her that way out loud. He tried to think back to a time when he had not felt that way about her but could not.

“Okay”, she lilted casually, her velvet voice sing-songing just a little. Teasing, always teasing. “So what does that make you?”

“I don’t know, Mistress.” His answer was completely honest in it’s sincerity, if not fully truthful in fact. Underneath his cascading thoughts of desire and love and servitude rambled the odd suspicion that he was supposed to be figuring out some deep, dark secret, the discovering of which would allow him to behold wonders so poignant as to guarantee everlasting happiness and peace.

“No, Little Rabbit, not everlasting happiness and peace, for there will always be new situations that crop up and need to be dealt with. But, if you pay very close attention to what happens next, if you really allow yourself to learn, then you will be able to know peace far more satisfying than any that you have yet imagined.” And with this the car bounced off the end of the pavement and onto gravel, the road having turned into a dusty and potholed gauntlet which the low slung vehicle had not been built for. Despite the obvious prudence of traveling at a slower speed, she actually seemed to speed up, causing the bottom of the poor car to occasionally grind into the dirt with anguished groans and rattles of the most extreme protest. Was she crazy? He almost hoped so, still wishing to be sexually teased again as if such an experience was more important than life itself. Then, in the fraction of a second after he had this thought, he corrected himself and tried to be more ..... “mature” ......that the way his mind saw it. She said nothing when he did this, but laughed out loud for a long, long time.

Eventually the road petered out all together and she pushed the aching car through tall grass and over small rocks. To punish the vehicle so bespoke of either wealth and a cavalier attitude that it allowed, or of madness, he could not decide which. Perhaps they were the same. Suddenly the little marvel of brilliant engineering and inspired design lurched out of a deep depression and became momentarily airborne before landing on top of a very large and very hard piece of bedrock which had been patiently waiting thousands of years for just this opportunity. She howled with maniac laughter as the engine died, the oil pan being crumpled into the crankshaft and forever silencing this noble beast of metal and carbon fibre and expensive leather. “How would they get back?”, he wondered.

“There is no back, only forward. Get out!”

And automatically, without thinking for even a nano-second, he climbed over the now crumpled and inoperable door to feel his tired feet set foot upon the dry Earth.

They walked through the brush for nearly half an hour before coming at last to a small stream. Little Rabbit’s joy at seeing water was beyond measure and he immediately offered to wash his Mistress’ feet, totally ignoring his own excruciating thirst. She smiled lovingly at him and accepted the offer, and in that instant he thought he understood. Understood that his purpose was to serve her without thinking selfishly of his own wants. He experienced a brief instant of jubilation before she kicked water in his face and reached forward to tickle his ribs with her long elegant fingers.

He laughed till he cried, and unable to think of anything but the deliciously agonizing sensations of the tickling, he did not notice that his Mistress was beginning to stare more and more intently at his groin. Without warning she grabbed him there and applied gentle pressure. In an instant he responded with an infuriated erection, his desire yanking him from the ecstasy of the tickling and plunging him into the torment of blazing desire. He was surprised to find that he no longer wanted to be sexually teased. He wanted to be tickled. He wanted to laugh and interact with his Mistress instead of being paralyzed again and driven out of his wits with unfulfilled lust.

She began howling with laughter again and got up to her feet, donned her shoes, and strode quickly across the stream and into the thick hardwood forest beyond. He sat there stunned and not knowing what to do. Then she called out to him, “Drink if you need to and then follow me to the end”.

End? End of what? There was no path here, no visible trail of any kind. Not even the local population of deer had left a discernible route through the trees. He was about to sacrifice the chance to quench his thirst in order to attend loyally to the command of his Mistress, but this time his need for water was so great that he did not blindly obey and instead bent his head to the cool water of the stream and drank and drank and drank. Finally feeling satisfied, he rose and crossed to the other side, noticing a panic building in him that he might have somehow displeased her by seeing to his own needs. His fear was short lived, however, as he soon caught sight of her leaning against a large maple tree, waiting patiently for him to come into view.

As soon as he saw her she turned and once more moved away, making it necessary for him to jog to keep up. She seemed able to walk with ease through the wood, dodging low hanging branches and weaving in and out of thickets with astonishing grace. He could not mimic her dexterity and had to use brute force to sweep aside the same obstacles, a clumsy charging hound to her nimble fox. This manner of travel lasted for what seemed like another half hour and gave him the impression that they had travelled again the distance they had traversed from the final resting place of the sports car to the stream.

Then, as if nature miraculously drew back the curtain of a secret stage, the trees unexpectedly thinned, revealing a large circular clearing carpeted with soft green grass with an almost manicured aspect suggested. In the centre of this clearing was a white marble dais surrounded by twelve smooth columns of the same material. A conical roof of open stone rafters supporting bright green vines interspersed with tiny brilliantly coloured flowers gave the whole structure the look and feel of something right out of a fairy tale. In the very middle of this enclosure sat his Mistress, cross legged as if meditating, yet with both eyes fixed squarely on his eyes, and with the same force that he felt from her beautiful stares before, he was pulled helplessly towards her like a moth to the flame.

He felt dizziness and numbness overwhelming his mind and body again, just as it had in the underground parking lot days earlier. He yearned with all his being to let go of everything else in his life and just surrender to her, surrender completely and absolutely, leaving nothing of his own self still existing. He longed to give in to her infinitely terrifying teasing, her impossible-to-resist bait spurring him to rush headlong and lemming-like into a frozen sea of sweet despair. The feeling of hopeless addiction and the sensation of just not caring were roaring within him with desperate blizzard fury. He thought he could hear his own voice screaming but he wasn’t sure. The clearing morphed and swirled in his mind as his feet reached the dais and he tripped again, just as he had on the road, falling face first at her feet. Once more he looked up at Her pleadingly for some relief from the temptation of Her agony of Her ravishing beauty. Tears of forlorn desolation poured forth from his eyes as he gazed up at Her, Her eyes still locked on his, and his thoughts began to turn once more to the horrible scenario of Her leaving him behind once and for all. A flash of thunder and nearby clap of thunder signalled that the storm was about to unleash it’s fury and he wished with all his heart that he knew in that instant what would be the right thing to do. Right for Her. Right for him.

With Her huge bottomless eyes She gazed into his soul and found there that which She had been looking for, and in that instant when the lightening had struck not far away, She had known that all her efforts were not to be in vain. “Sit next to me, Little Rabbit”, She said softly, Her silky voice almost a whisper as if being reverently respectful of some great magic about to happen in this holy place. “Just sit by me and feel what I feel as I feel what you feel.” And as he sat cross legged next to and slightly facing his Mistress, She took his right hand in her left hand and the warmth that flowed between them was truly wonderful. Rain started to fall, slowly at first, the sentinel drops rustling leaves so as to invite the real deluge to follow, and soon it did, falling in sheets that quickly soaked the dry ground in the forest past the point of saturation so that the Earth danced with splashing madness that soon gave way to great puddles here and there in whatever depressions presented themselves. Inside the white marble circle, beneath the vines of the roof and the brilliantly coloured flowers, the rain did not fall. It was if they were encapsulated in some sort of magic cocoon set apart from the rest of the world by virtue of what they now felt for each other. Lightening scintillated throughout the surrounding forest as the peels of thunder grew more frequent, ultimately merging into one great unending roar.

This tumult seemed peaceful to the two people who sat quietly inside the little temple. The greatest imaginable barriers of joy had been forded and before them now lay a great universe of possibilities, each one more miraculous than the next. Their hearts soared and circled and rose higher and higher into the infinite expanse above and all around them. They began to glow with a brilliance that matched the intensity of the growing lightening strikes. The wind howled and the rain fell harder, yet their minds remained calm. All yearning had left him, all feelings of needing to be teased, all hopes of becoming totally saturated with her tantalizing promises and the fear of those promises being broken, all to repeat again and again without even the slightest hope of reason or release. Release was no longer the unattainable goal towards which he craved to strive forever. Release no longer mattered. All that mattered was the perfectly clear moment of “now”.

“It’s over, Little Rabbit”, She whispered, Her mind to his mind, no longer needing to speak to him aloud. He could now hear Her thoughts as clearly as She could hear his. “You have come home at last. Welcome!”