The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It started when my Master was in one of his usual ‘moods’. He gets them sometimes. In the two years since we were married, I’ve come to know him more deeply that I could ever have imagined. I knew all about his different fetishes, his different fantasies, and we’ve indulged in them often enough when we were dating, but its something else completely when you’re husband and wife. One thing in particular that I was still trying to get used to was the tickling.

I should explain that first. Master loves to tickle me. A lot. It’s kind of hard to explain. He has a foot fetish, and enjoys looking at my sexy little feet, playing with them, rubbing them, sucking on my toes... all of which I enjoy just as much as he does. He’s very good at it, and he knows how to really turn me on with it. Unfortunately, he ALSO likes to tickle my feet, which drives me absolutely CRAZY! I’ve very ticklish. When he gets in one of his ‘moods’, I get EXTREMELY ticklish. The fact that he hypnotizes me on a regular basis, putting in all those neat little surprises in my mind, demonstrating his complete and total Mastery of me... all that doesn’t help matters when he feels the need to make me laugh myself silly.

This particular day started like any other. I woke up at the usual time, before the alarm clock even went off. It was Friday, one morning to work before the weekend, and I was looking forward to having some uninterrupted quality time with my loving husband. Moving quietly, so not to awaken him, I reached up onto the nightstand, and removed the key to my ankle shackles.

Oh, I probably should have mentioned as well that Master sometimes chains me to the foot of the bed, where I sometimes sleep on a blanket on the floor. It’s a Master-slave thing.

Unchained, I slipped a bathrobe over my naked body and slipped downstairs to the kitchen, to fix breakfast. I started the coffeepot brewing, slid a few slices of bread into the toaster, and turned on the stove. I felt in the mood for hash browns, sausage, and eggs this morning, and while everything cooked, I scampered back upstairs to check on Master.

The alarm clock was ringing like crazy, as usual, and my beloved had the pillow over his head, ignoring it, as usual. “Jonothan, wake up!” I said, smirking. “It’s time to get up.” He groaned, and threw my pillow at me, pulling his own tighter over his head. I sighed. “Well, if you listened to me for once and got some sleep instead of staying up late to watch TV, it wouldn’t be so hard to get up in the mornings.” The pillow muffled what was likely a snide comment, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I raised the edge of the covers from the bed, and grabbed his feet before he could crawl back under the top edge of the blankets. I scrabbled my nails up and down his feet, giving him a tiny taste of what he always gave me, and he freaked, laughing like crazy, kicking, trying to pull away. I laughed as well, holding on, tickling him for a few more minutes until at last he cried, “Okay okay! Hahahaha... I’m awake. I’m awake!”

“Good boy,” I said, smirking, letting him go. “Get in the shower and get dressed. Breakfast will be done in a few more minutes.”

I ran back downstairs, rotating everything to keep it from burning. By the time my sleepy Master had emerged from upstairs, everything was done, and the table was set. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he said cheerfully, kissing me deeply on the lips. I smiled, enjoying the taste, touch, and smell of him, loving him as deeply this morning as I had the very day I said, ‘I do’ on the altar. In retrospect, I should have noticed something when he kissed me, smiling all the while. He hadn’t even said anything about my tickling him awake, or the ‘good boy’ comment.

Master really HATES when I refer to him as a good boy. He says its ‘topping him from underneath’. I therefore use it as much as possible to annoy and provoke him, when I think I can get away with it.

We ate breakfast, he, fully dressed, me naked except for my pink silken bathrobe. I didn’t have to leave for work for another hour, which meant I have plenty of time to bathe and dress for work after he departed. Sipping his coffee, he sighed deeply, asking me to get the Coffeemate from the fridge. Being a good little slave, I stood up, and went to the fridge. He called my name, and I paused, looking back at him.

“Go deep, mo duinne,” he said, smirking.

My entire world contracted to a single point for an instant. I blinked, blinked again, and asked, “What did you say, love?”

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Jonothan replied. “Forget the Coffeemate. I need to take off, or I’m going to be late.”

“Oh. Uhm, okay,” I said, closing the fridge again. He kissed me gently on the lips, squeezing my ass in a combination that left me breathless. Then he pulled away, gathering up his briefcase. “See you tonight, Master,” I said as he exited the house. I smiled, warming at the thoughts of seeing him again tonight, the work week over and done with. For a change, neither or us had anything pressing, a meeting or something we simply had to attend, so the next two days were clear and open.

I finished my meal, cleared the dishes, and went upstairs to shower. I was feeling good. I loved my job, I loved my husband, and I tonight after work, we were going to have a glorious time together. I was almost giddy in expectation. Again, in retrospect, I should have known something was wrong, that it seemed a bit later than it should have been, but my mind was so preoccupied with dinner plans tonight that I wasn’t really thinking.

Oh. Another thing to mention. My Master is a bit of a practical joker. He loves pulling pranks on his poor sweet, long-suffering slave girl, me, when he thinks he can get away with it.

I quickly showered and dressed in something appropriate for the office, then headed in to work. About halfway there, I started feeling uncomfortable, a little irritated, as if someone had sprinkled itching powder in my clothes. Master had actually done that to me, once... and only once, after I returned the favor in his underwear drawer. But no, whatever was making me squirm, it wasn’t itching powder. Besides, after a while, it no longer itched or irritated. In fact, it started to feel kinda... nice. Pleasant. That same giddy feeling from earlier had returned, and I was smiling deeply when I walked into the bank that day.

It was a light day. Three meetings scheduled, and a presentation to my superiors on the numbers for this quarter. No sweat, or so I thought. Halfway through the first meeting, the pleasant tingling feeling I’d been feeling all day long intensified suddenly. I gasped, jerking in my seat, as I felt several hundred feathers circling along my sides, running up and down and across my vulnerable soft flesh. My smile froze in place as I bit down on the urge to break into giggles. My arms flew to my sides, clenching tightly, as if I could somehow block the phantom feathers tickling my body.

Of course I wasn’t truly being tickled. It was all inside my head, a posthypnotic suggestion from my very childish, spiteful, vengeful Master. I thought up several not-so-nice names for him while I endured the meeting, nodding or shaking my head whenever someone asked my opinion. Luckily I wasn’t a speaker this time; I doubted I could have opened my mouth without bursting into a fit of giggles right then. All too soon the sensation passed, just as the meeting broke up. Sweating, breathing deeply in exhaustion from the effort, I made my way back to my desk.

My best friend, Jenn, was waiting, and noticed my state. “What’s wrong with you, Shelley?” she asked, concerned. “You look flushed. Are you coming down with something?”

“No, I’m fine,” I managed, breathing deeply, trying to still my racing heart. “Jonothan pulled another little prank on me this morning, it seems.”

Jennifer chuckled, shaking her head. “I should have known. You know, you two can be really childish sometimes. I’m just glad my boyfriend isn’t into all the kinky stuff you two are into.”

“Yeah right,” I shot back, smirking. “You wish Robbie was half as creative as Jonothan. He has his faults, sure enough... UGH!! OOOHHHHH! And THIS... ahhhh... hehehehehehe... is one of them,” I giggled, as the sensations suddenly reappeared, this tine under my arms. “Still, I have to saayy.. hahahahaaa... the good more than outweighss sshehehehehehehe... the bad!”

Jennifer chuckled in sympathy to my plight. She, too, knew only too well about Jonothan’s tickling fetish. He had hypnotized her too, on occasion, and had taken much delight in proving to my best friend who had insisted that she was not ticklish anywhere on her body that he ‘change her mind’ about it. He’d removed the suggestion soon after, but she still remembered well enough what it was like to be me for a day.

“Do you think you need to take a sick day and go home?” Jennifer asked. “We still have two meetings and that presentation later today. Do you think you’ll be able to do it like... this?”

“I’m... fine. I’m fine,” I replied, catching my breath again as the tickling faded. “It’s not bad, not like it could be. I think he just wanted to make me squirm today, not to embarrass me or anything. He knew about the meetings and the presentations. Jonothan would never do anything to mess with my job.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll be just fine, really.”

Just fine proved to be overstating my position just a wee bit. Halfway through the second meeting, the phantom tickling moved to my feet. My worst spot. I was taken completely off guard, in the middle of talking when suddenly I felt a million feathers swirling and sliding between my pudgy little toes. My breath caught in my throat, and a sound somewhere between a cough and a scream came out. Everyone glanced at me, and red-faced, blushing in embarrassment, I cleared my throat.

“I’m sorry, excuse me, allergies,” I said, kicking off my heels under the table, rubbing my stockinged feet rapidly along the carpet, trying to get rid of the tickling sensations. “I was asking, how does that figure into... the, uhm, new market outlook for next quarter?” The conversation continued on, and I silently vowed to get my mischievous, low-down, sneaky little Master for this.

I should also probably mention that along with being horribly ticklish, my little toesies are an, uhm, well, an erogenous zone for me.

By the time the meeting ended, I was very flushed, moreso from my building arousal than from fighting the urge to laugh this time. I was starting to really miss my Master about now, but my work day still wasn’t over yet. One more meeting and a presentation left. The third and final meeting went well, aside from a few sporadic tickles here and there along my navel. I was starting to enjoy myself again, knowing that I could endure this pleasant torture, trusting that Jonothan wouldn’t make a fool out of me in front of my bosses. Master often tested me this way, pushing my limits, in the same way I sometimes provoked him, pushing him to see how far I could go without getting REAL trouble. I even decided to call him at work on my lunch break to tease him a little.

“Hi, love!” he exclaimed, hearing my voice. “This is a pleasant surprise. How is everything going for you today?”

I chuckled to myself. “I think you know exactly how everything is going today, sweetheart,” I said sweetly. “You are such a bad, bad, boy. When I get you home tonight, I’m going to spank that bottom of yours till its glowing red.”

“Oh, reeeeaaaallly,” he replied, with a playful tone that made my own skin crawl. “You’re going to spank me, are you? Tsk, tsk, tsk. I think someone’s getting a bit too big for her own britches.”

I knew I was pushing it then. Those words usually preceded something bad, something that meant I was about to end up on my knees begging him to change him mind. I knew it, knew it, but I was caught up in my role as the defiant, playful little tease, and I guess I couldn’t help myself. Against my better judgment, I replied, “Well, little boy, ONE of us has to wear the britches in this family, so it might as well be me.”

The phone went silent for a while. I think I knew then that I’d gone over the line. I took a deep breath, opened my mouth to apologize, when my husband spoke, reminding me of just why he is my Lord and Master.

“Shelley, love, go silent and just listen.”

Simple as that, my voice was gone. I realized with dread that I was still under, that he’d never really released me from earlier this morning. Worse, I couldn’t even tell him I was sorry, or beg him to stop, which I usually did to try and get out of punishments. I was stuck, and unable to do anything but face the music.

“Shelley, loveling, I think we’ll see now just which one of us wears the pants. First, I think I was too easy on you with this little... torment. From now on, ‘playtime’ is now at level three. Let’s see if you’re still in a playful mood after your presentation.” He chuckled softly. “Oh yes, one more little detail. You are not allowed to touch yourself in any way to relieve the tension.”

My eyes went wide. I couldn’t touch myself? Well, I wasn’t a nympho or anything, that had to go to the bathroom at work to get myself off... unless of course, my Master prompted me to. But having that option taken from me, knowing a little of what I was about to face... it was cruel. Unbelievably cruel. Contact with my Master, whether in person, or over the phone, was always highly stimulating to me; he’d trained me, hypnotized me, programmed me, and conditioned me to respond to him that way. Just talking to him for a few minutes over the phone had me damp between my legs, and that wasn’t counting the steady arousal the phantom tickling of my toes had caused. By the time I made it home at the end of the day, I’d be a wreck!

As soon as he allowed me to talk again, I started begging, but he wouldn’t relent. One thing about Jonothan: once he makes up in his mind to do something, he goes through with it, come hell or high water. A commendable trait part of the time, but right now, it was a bad thing. He wished me well, blew me a kiss, and hung up, returning to work. Sighing, wondering how I got into these messes in the first place, I returned to my job as well.

Four o’ clock rolled around, and Jennifer and I began setting up for the presentation. I was nervous, more from whatever unexpected surprise my Master had planned rather than the presentation itself. Please, please, Master, don’t embarrass me in front of my boss! I prayed silently. The lights went down, as the slide show began.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I stated, pointing to the first diagram with my pointer. “Here you see a graph of last quarter’s numbb—bers,” I stammered, feeling the feathers once more, this time in my most sensitive, most private of places. The urge to giggle was quickly overtaken by the deepening urge to moan, as my tender slave pussy was teased and tickled, stroked and stimulated by hypnotic feathers, caressing my rapidly moistening slit. Please, Master, I begged helplessly in my mind, unsure if I was begging it to stop, or to continue.

Luckily, I found out much later, Master had planned for such an eventuality. Unable to handle the strain, I went immediately into a deep trance. While my mind was completely absorbed in the deliciously diabolical pussy tickling, my body performed its planned function perfectly. Although I have no memory of anything once the feathers started circling my clit, I apparently did a great job on the presentation. Jennifer said that aside from the stutter at the very beginning, I recited the speech perfectly, and even answered questions at the end.

All I remember, however, was standing there, frozen, in the dimly lit room, my legs slightly apart in my stance, while invisible feathers worked my sex into an unending frenzy of torturous titillation. I felt every touch, every caress, as intensely as if my loving Master were sitting there in front of me, his hands holding my waist still, his fingers sawing the thick fluffy frond back and forth along my highly sensitive slit. Stars shone in my eyes, my breathing impossibly calm and poised while my heart slammed rapid-fire in my chest. My clit felt like a star going nova, heating up more and more each second towards its own inevitable explosion, yet unable to reach it.

My Master’s cruelest trick to date. Long ago, way before we were even married, he had conditioned me to cum on command, to climax at his word. I’d apparently been given the exact opposite as a post-hypnotic command: to NOT cum, unless allowed specifically by him. And so, I was forced to stand there, simmering, my pleasure building, building, more, and more, my stockings running damp from my steadily trickling juices, unable to cum, unable even to touch myself, unless my Master commanded it.

Little wonder my conscious mind shut down during the presentation.

I woke from the trance, becoming fully aware again, the moment I stepped into my car after work. I gasped deeply, as my mind reconnected to my body, feeling the full onslaught of the hypnotic teasing all over again. Whimpering, gasping, struggling to contain myself, I managed somehow to find my cell phone. I dialed his number, praying that he picked up.

“Hello?”

“MASTER!” I literally screamed, the added pleasure of contact with him nearly driving me insane. “PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!” I babbled, unable to get out the words, unable to say what I most needed to say, hoping that he understood my incredible need, and that he chose to respond.

“Ah, I see,” he commented, listening to my desperate pleas. “I think we know now who wears the pants, and who wears the slave silk of a horny little sex slave.”

“PLEASE, MASTER! PLEASE!” The humiliation and angst at being bested this way only fueled my passions. I was being put in my place, by my strong, powerful Master, and it made my clit dance with joy.

“I would make you say the words, to voice your submission to me,” he mused, the laughter in his words evident, “but I doubt you’d be able to say them right now. So... I bet you’re calling to beg for release?”

“YES YES YES PLEASE MASTER PLEASE!!” I sounded so weak, so needy. Surely he’d have mercy on his sweet innocent little girl?

“I don’t think so,” he replied in grim satisfaction. “I don’t want you to release, not just yet. I want you to simmer just a wee bit more.” My heart shattered and crumbled to dust at his words. NO! How could he do this to me?

“But,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “I will give you a little relief... just enough to let you make it home in one piece. Go deep for me, Shelley.” My breath caught in my throat, my attention caught like a fly in a spider’s web. I went deep, as Master commanded me, still teetering on the edge of climax, but feeling it only in the background now. “You will stay deep for me, Shelley,” his voice toned, echoing oddly in my mind, “stay deep, and you will drive home, as you always do, safely, without any problems. You are still there, still on the edge of climax, your passion and pleasure at the very brink, but while you are deep you will act normally, and drive home, unconcerned about your body’s present state of arousal.”

I smiled inwardly. My Master was driving me nearly out of my mind with passion, punishing my flippant attitude, but still he looked out for me, making it possible to endure the torment he had given me. After the phone went dead, I calmly started my car, and drove back home. My seat was slick with girl juice when I pulled into the driveway, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take before my heart exploded, but I made it home safe and sound.

I walked into the house, walking upstairs, into our bedroom, where my Master sat, regally, on the bed, waiting for me. I was still in the trance, still deep, and my body was calm, unshaken, despite my inner turmoil. With respect and devotion, I slid out of my clothes and knelt before him, showing that I understood my place. I was his slave, and I knew it.

He smiled. “Very good, love,” he said huskily, unbuttoning his shirt. “On your feet, and onto the bed.” I obeyed, moving to the bed, spreading my legs in invitation. I was more than ready. I was so far beyond ready the word no longer had any meaning.

But, as I said in the beginning, Master was in one of his ‘moods’. Poor me.

“You make awaken now, my slave,” he said, as he sat down at my feet, lifting them gently into his lap. I gasped, and groaned in pleasure at his touch, adding to the bubbling, barely-contained juggernaut of passion running rampant through my body. “You may touch yourself, if—” he added quickly, as my hand zeroed in on my crotch, “if and only if you continue to obey me.” My hand sank gratefully into my warm wet nether region; he was my Master, obeying him was a given. Or so I thought.

“I’m tickling your feet now, little one,” he said, scribbling his fingers along my soft pink little soles, making me howl in laughter. “You can cum for me now, while I tickle you, and it will feel sooo good, so fucking good, but ONLY when I tickle.” My back arched in a bow, my release finally granted, my mouth issuing all sorts of strange sounds, moans, giggles, laughter, screams, the entire vocal repertoire of a woman climaxing. Jonothan continued to tickle me silly, tickling my small, baby soft feet, tickling behind my ticklish knees, up along my hipbone, making my hips writhe in ticklish agony as well as the multiple orgasms pumping through me.

My energy was running low when his passion reached my own. Sliding deep into me, lifting my legs high onto his shoulders, I rode my Master’s cock back into ecstasy, telegraphing my enjoyment, only to be overcome with orgasms again when he slipped my wiggling toes into his mouth, tickling my toesies with my clever, dexterous tongue. I laughed and screamed and laughed and screamed and laughed and screamed more, until finally everything faded in a blank canopy of white light...

I awoke several hours later, under the covers, in the bed, cuddled close to my sleeping Master’s body. We’d apparently fallen asleep in an inverted ‘69’ position, for his mouth was still at my feet, the soft warm breath tickling my toes slightly. Aftershocks of the days earlier pleasure ran through me, and my thighs clenched tightly, riding the gently cresting wave. I must have moaned inadvertently, because the next thing I know, Master was chuckling softly, rubbing my soft little feet, caressing my toes just gently enough to NOT tickle.

“Good evening, lover,” he said, grinning down at me.

“Good morning, you mean,” I replied, stretching slightly. “It’s nearly six o’ clock. Time to wake up and start breakfast.” I moved to roll over, to get out of bed, but Master had other ideas. He held on to my legs, not letting me slide out of bed. I looked back up at him.

“You’re not going anywhere, Shelley-love,” he said with a smirk. “Except back into my arms again.”

I laughed, moving around to face him, kissing him deeply. “You certainly know how to tickle a young girl’s fancy,” I quipped, kissing him gently along the side of his neck.

A soft growl left his lips, as he gripped my waist, lifting me, and sliding into position. “Give me a few minutes,” he said huskily, “and I’ll TICKLE much more than that.” I giggled softly, as my Master sent me once again into nirvana.