The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Nell was always on time. She paid for an extra fifteen minutes of buffer time between the last client’s session and her own, so technically speaking she was always late, but at four fifteen on Wednesday Annette knew who was at the door without even looking up. Nell never bothered with the waiting room, she simply walked straight through and into Annette’s office, closing the door behind her.

This Wednesday, her blue skirted suit was neat and conservative and her makeup was flawless. She wore large sunglasses and a hat. The hat was new.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a hat before,” Annette said. It wasn’t a conventional way to open therapy, but she’d been seeing her patient long enough to know how important appearances were.

Nell took off her sunglasses, revealing carefully made up eyes that were still a little red, and shook loose blonde hair that was a few shades lighter and a little shorter than the bob Nell wore on her book jackets. Annette wondered if she were actually smelling Nell’s perfume or just imagining it.

“My haircut is a hashtag.” Nell said, her chin pushed upward. “I might have to wear a hat for awhile.”

Annette was tempted to reach up and touch her own hair, which was up in a bun. Despite herself, she usually dressed up for Nell, too. Her type-A client inspired her.

“A hashtag?” Annette managed. She sat down in her usual armchair, hoping Nell would follow her lead. “That’s one of those internet labels?” Annette was averse to social media.

“Yes,” Nell said, slowing her voice just a bit, not quite enough to be condescending. “An internet label. In this case, used to label my haircolor, by people on the internet making fun of me.” She sat down carefully, like the couch had spikes, and looked straight at Annette as if waiting for her to process the information.

Having an internet celebrity for a patient had been an education in itself. Annette pushed back her glasses.

“I know your looks are important to a public figure,” Annette said slowly “But fundamentally, you’re a scientist. You have a PhD. You testify in front of Congress about things most people don’t understand. Why does it matter if a few people on the internet don’t like your hair?”

Nell reached over and pulled a tissue from the ever-present box on Annette’s end table. She twisted it in her hands. She wasn’t crying, she never did. She was just twisting it tighter and tighter.

“According to my social media manager, since Congressman Groves first sent a tweet about how dumb blondes shouldn’t be influencing our national energy policy, four thousand people have taken the time to write on the internet that they don’t like my hair, or they don’t like my body. Or that they don’t like me. Since you saw me last Wednesday.” Annette drew in a breath. Nell continued. “And I’ve gotten ten or so messages from men who want to, do things to me,”

Annette didn’t need that spelled out. She knew that her client’s fame gave her a hard life. Rape and death threats weren’t new, but ten of them in a week was a record.

“How are you handling that?” she asked. Before she’d even finished asking, Annette knew that had been a mistake. Opening up wasn’t easy for Nell, not at all. It had to be approached carefully, and that had been too direct.

“Not well,” Nell said crisply. She pulled her head up, making her body rigid again. It was almost like she was drawing imaginary tears back into her eyes. Damn.

“You don’t have to be dealing with it well,” Annette said, “Not here. You pay me to give you a place where you can deal with things badly and work through your feelings.”

“Yes, I do have to be dealing with it well, at least as far as anyone can see.” Nell’s eyes were wide and serious. “I have to be someone that the public can rely on and trust.”

“And that means showing no vulnerability?” Annette asked.

“For a female scientist it does,” Nell’s tone was condescending now. Annette nodded. She expected she’d be treating Nell for years. This wasn’t the day to dig. Her unfeeling facade was stronger than ever.

“How are you sleeping?” Annette asked.

“I’m not,” Nell said. They were silent for a moment. “I would really like to sleep.”

Annette sighed. “Would you like one of your relaxation treatments?”

Nell looked straight into her eyes. “Yes. I would.”

Annette swallowed. Her license was on the line. Every time. If anyone ever knew…

But no one would ever know. That was the point.

Nell’s shoes were neatly tucked next to the coffee table and she lifted her feet girlishly onto Annette’s couch. Not a lot of women still wore pantyhose, but of course Nell did. Cold, inhibited Nell.

“Please?” Nell said. It would be different if Nell were demanding. She wasn’t. “Nothing else works. You know I’ve tried.”

Annette lifted her hand and began to slowly wave it back and forth. Nell’s gaze was hungry for those fingertips. Annette moved slightly in her chair, too professional to want Nell to see how hard Annette’s nipples were.

“Close your eyes,” Annette cooed, dropping her hand into her lap. She closed her own for a moment, as if she were shielding herself from what she was doing. When she opened them again, Nell had obeyed. Annette swallowed again. Her patient was leaning back on the sofa, pale neck exposed.

“We’re going to help you relax,” Annette said. Nell’s jaw relaxed.

“Relax” Nell purred. She was such an easy trance now. They didn’t do this every session, just when Nell needed it. But every time it was a little bit easier.

“I can already see that you’re drifting down into trance for me,” Annette said. “What will it feel like when you’re down deep in that place where you can relax?”

“So good,” Nell moaned. She was massaging her own collarbone now, her hands pink and soft.

Annette bit her lip. “I’m going to count to four now,” Annette said. “When you hear an odd number, you’re going to open your eyes. When you hear an even number, you’re going to close them.”

This part might not even be necessary anymore, but the ritual seemed to help Annette get out of her head.

“One.” Nell’s large blue eyes were glassy without having lost that serious look.

“Two.” As Nell closed her eyes, she fumbled with a button on her blouse. Annette bit back as gasp when it came open.

“Three.” Nell’s eyes opened.

“Four.” Nell opened a second button, this time her hands never left her breasts, cupping them and playing with the nipples. The bra was beige, but it was lace. Nell hadn’t even taken off her suit jacket.

“Need this,” Nell murmered, “so much.”

“I know.” Annette wanted to call her patient ‘Baby,’ but she just couldn’t. “I know how much you need it, Nell. I know how good you feel when you relax.” Annette licked her lips. Nell’s nipples were darker than her bra, brown and large and pretty. “You’re so deep now.”

“Feels so good.”

As many times as they’d done this, Nell still never wore stockings. She pushed her skirt awkwardly aside and slipped her hand into her pantyhose. Nell’s movements were always precise, except right now. Never this movement, when emotion carried her away.

“With every breath, you breathe in relaxation,” Annette whimpered, shifting again in her chair. She imagined she could see Nell’s stress draining downward. The pressure of her job, the cruel way she was treated, her need for things to be just right, all of it pushing down into a pussy Annette had never even seen.

She wanted to see it. Since the first time they’d discovered Nell’s intense and effective reaction to trance, Annette had wanted to see it. But she never would.

“Please?” Nell whispered. The expression on her face was bliss. A few tears, the only tears Annette ever saw from her, went down her cheeks.

“Is all that tension where it needs to be?” Annette said.

“Not yet,” Nell moaned. “So much.”

“I know,” Annette said. “And you’re going to feel so good. And you’re going to sleep so well tonight. And then tomorrow, you’re going to feel so calm.”

“As soon as I let the tension go,” Nell writhed, she was leaning forward now, those beautiful breasts pushed toward Annette.

“That’s right.” Annette gave those words the emphasis she knew Nell needed. Her patient let out a sudden cry and threw her head back, her whole body shaking like there had been an explosion within.

Annette almost felt it too.

Nell’s head lolled for a moment. “Everything feels so calm right now,” Annette said. “You’re going to sleep so well tonight. In the coming days, you will find that it’s easier to remain calm. Feels so good to be in this state of deep relaxation. And anytime things are difficult, you can just think about being back here, and how you can come right back here.”

Anytime we do this. Annette thought. She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to.

Nell pulled her hand out and shook it, then started absently smoothing her skirt.

“Are you ready to come back?” Annette asked.

“Yes,” Nell said.

“Coming back up…” Annette said, Nell’s hands went to her buttons, her movements crisp and efficient again. “In five, four, three, two one.”

Nell opened her eyes. She straighted her posture. It almost looked like nothing had happened. But her cheeks were still red.

She put her hat back on and picked up her sunglasses.

“Next Wednesday?” Nell asked. Her face had that hardness again.

“Yes,” Annette said. Her mouth was dry. “I’ll book 3:45 to 5 for you.”

Nell stood up. “Thank you.”

David smiled when he heard his wife Annette’s car in the driveway and her quick footsteps on the front walk. He knew those steps like he knew his own heartbeat, and those quick steps made his heart beat faster.

She grabbed his hair as she kissed him hello, pulling him toward the dining room.

Happy to oblige, he helped her wriggle onto the table, hooking a finger into her soaked panties and pulling them off, savoring her smell for a quick moment before he lowered his mouth to her.

She tasted fantastic. He wanted to lap up every bit of that creme brulee wetness, and he knew she needed him to.

Annette had her inhibitions. She didn’t talk about her patients. He would never ask why so many of his Wednesday evenings began this way.

But he was delighted that they did.