The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I won’t be hypnotized.

I can’t be hypnotized.

That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway, as I watch the TV screen that Master and Megan have set up for me. I’m distantly reminded of a warning from my mother to avoid sitting too close to the TV screen, that it will ruin my eyes and force me to wear glasses.

But Master’s command is to watch the screen, and resist so that’s exactly what I intend to do, even if my eyes burn to a crisp. Trouble is, I’m losing. The screen is full of shifting colors and barely-visible messages like sleep and succumb, and try as I might, those messages have gotten their hooks into my brain. I can feel myself slipping, the way that you know you’re about to wipe out after stepping on a patch of ice. I barely have time to recognize that I’m slipping before I’ve slipped.

A switch deep in my brain flips, and the screen takes on a whole new meaning. It’s not just swirls and whirls now. No, it’s very important that I keep my eyes on it. It’s extremely important that I focus the entirety of my being on those lovely images. I do, because I must.

Your mind is open now, it tells me. You are ready to receive your orders. Yes, yes I am. Order me, command me, instruct me. I’m ready. My body is tingling, the same way it does whenever Master touches me. Speaking of which… there are so many part of me I want to touch right now, jilling myself into a brainless blob while I shout about loud enough for the mailman to hear. But I can’t. I must watch the screen. Nothing is more important.

Watch. Receive my orders, I am ready, Mas… wait, didn’t Master tell me something about this screen? Am I doing what he ordered me to do? I must be, because watching the screen feels so damn good and I’m already so close… I must… yes, I must. I will.

I am.

“Tara.” Someone next to me is talking. Someone very annoying. Don’t they realize that my mind is open, and I’m about to receive my orders? For fuck’s sake! This is extremely important!

“Tara!”

It takes a hot minute for my half-melted brain to catch up with reality. The voice belongs to my wonderful Master, and he wants me to listen to him. I don’t care how sexy that screen is, or what subliminals it must have been shoving through my eyeballs, because let this girl tell you that there is nothing in the world like being addressed personally by the man who owns your mind and body.

I smile, eyes wide, feeling breathless. You’d never know that I’d been sitting slack-jawed and dumbstruck a minute ago. “Yes, Master?”

It starts to dawn on me that I’ve disobeyed him, given that I wasn’t able to resist being hypnotized by the screen. Master doesn’t seem displeased, though, and that gives me hope that he’ll forgive me for my failures. Master is so gracious and benevolent! I am the luckiest gal in the world, and sure enough, he hooks his thumb underneath my chin and bends my head skywards, until our eyes meet. He has beautiful eyes. God, he’s so handsome. His breath smells like brandy.

“You did well, my little pet,” he says. I’m guessing that Original Tara would have hated being called a pet, to the point where she would have responded with a nasty kick to the crotch. I, on the other hand, am positively ecstatic. A little pet! A petite… whatever pet is in French! That’s me!

“Thank you, Master!” I’m not even sure what I’m thankful for, but I know that I am. I am. I am.

“Allow me to explain,” he explains. “You deserve that much, Tara. After all of this. The things I’ve been able to do to you, and to your friends… it’s been very effective, sure. But it’s also been slow. Even a very good slave resists at first.”

I’m blushing, not because Master has determined that I deserve things, but because I’m sure that I resisted the fuck out of him when he first tried to show me the truth of my purpose. I was so stupid back then!

Master chooses to ignore my obvious distress, bless him. “But if even you can’t resist Megan’s new program? If it’s so powerful that it forces you to disobey a direct order from me? Our party guests will be easy prey. Everyone will. You’ve done very well, Megan. Well beyond all of my expectations.”

There’s an excited half-sigh, half-gasp to my left, and I belatedly that Megan is in the room with us. I glance to my left to confirm, and sure enough, there she is. Unlike me, Megan is actually dressed, a little business number complete with three-inch heels and a sharply-tailored blazer. It’s halfway between Casual Friday and Stripper Saturday, and it manages to show off every glorious curve God bestowed on her.

“Thank you, Master,” she says, which is exactly how a good slavegirl should respond. I’m proud of her. She’s become a very good girl and an important asset to Master, a far cry from the wishy-washy, pathetic hypnotist she used to be. Master and I have taken that raw steel and turned it into a sharp, deadly weapon.

And now, that steel cuts.

A thought occurs to me- and how cool is it that I have thoughts, by the way? That’s how much Master loves me and trusts me, he gives me the ability to think up the sexiest shit imaginable. I’m putting that to work as I speak, sinking back down to my knees and turning my palms towards the ceiling, a supplicant in search of salvation. “You’re so amazing, Master. Please let your slavegirl reward you? Please?”

He’s five seconds away from dropping his pants and allowing me to take that glorious manhood into my sexy, plump lips when he has a second thought (dammit!), and pulls away. His pants do not come off. I stare directly at his crotch, at the bulge behind it. I’d rip those expensive slacks apart with my bare hands if I wasn’t such a mindless, obedient slavegirl.

“Wait a minute,” he says, as if I haven’t spend the last eight hundred years waiting patiently here on my knees. I graciously allow him a few additional minutes to continue. “You’re still due for another round of conditioning, Tara. I can’t risk having you attend tonight’s party knowing that someone might exploit any programming Paul left in your mind.”

“But, Master!”

He’s right. He’s always right, right? But I can’t help myself. I could have that amazing cock in my mouth right now, this very second, with the man attached to it stroking my hair and telling me how wonderful I am. Instead… well, this. It feels like homework. Like being told that you can’t go to the amusement park because you have to mow the lawn. I start whimpering, like a pathetic little princess. I hate it. I hate myself.

But still… “Paul’s dead,” I point out. “The only other person who knows about this is Megan, and she’s one of us.” One of us, one of us, one of us, oh God yesssss one of us.. “Any programming that Paul left in my head is useless now, because there’s no one who can use it.”

“And if there is, we’ll handle it.” I look over my shoulder, having forgotten once again that Megan is in the room, and that she’s just as hot-to-trot to fuck the both of us as I am. God, her eyes are so sexy when she’s like this! I can’t wait to put my hands on her amazing… wait, not now. Master takes priority!

“I’m sure you’re both capable of doing a lot of things,” Master notes, “but I don’t want to take any chances.”

The words hit hard. “Yes, Master,” I concede.

“As you wish, Master,” Megan concurs. She drops to her knees and places her hands palm-down on her legs, puppy-dog eyes aimed squarely at Master. “What would you like me to do for you now?”

I’ve got a pretty good idea as to what Megan would like to do now, being on her knees and all, but her phone chooses this moment to ruin it for all of us. She somehow manages to slip a hand between her dress and that tight blazer and retrieves the offending device, reading the display with a mixture of displeasure and apathy.

Then she goes back to being the dumb, ditzy, powerless Megan she used to be. She smiles, sucks in a deep breath, and holds the phone to her ear, letting the air whoosh back out of her in the form of a chipper “Hiya! This is Megan!” Only her eyes- cold, empty, determined- betray the woman she is now. It’s incredibly hot, and I bite my lip. God, I want those lips to be pressed against hers right this second.

The chipper smile fades. She places a hand over the phone and looks to Master. “It’s Madame Franz,” she mouths.

He nods. “Answer it,” he tells her. “And put it on speaker phone.”

“Yes, Master.”

She’s back to business. Still on her knees, but back to business nonetheless. She taps the phone as ordered and jumps in. “This is the Siberia Investment Company!”

There’s a long pause where there ought to be none. A crackle of phone static- Master gets shitty reception sometimes- and then Madame Franz comes through loud and clear.

“Fuck you,” she says, before hanging up.

Everything is chaos. Megan looks to Master again, as do I, but even he seems thrown for a loop. His eyes dart between the two of us before coming to rest on Megan. “Call her back,” he barks at her.

She doesn’t have to. A second later the phone rings again, Taylor Swift’s ‘Shake it Off’ filling the silence until Megan taps the phone. “Siberia Investment Company,” she begins, emphasizing the trigger phrase. “This is Megan. Listen carefully to my voice, Marta. Relax, and listen carefully. Can you hear—”

“Dejá de ser tan pelotudo.” None of us know what that means, especially Megan, who now looks more than a little terrified. “You little slut. Get Avery on the line. Now.”

“Marta, I’m your friend, ? You can trust me like family, completely and totally, ing now just how deep into trance my voice can take you, how just listening to each word brings you so, so deep into a relaxing state of mind, ready to… fuck!”

She looks at me, then at Master, eyes wide. “She hung up again!”

Master crouches next to us, balancing on his heels so that his head is level with ours. It’s like we’re in a football huddle and he’s the quarterback. “Call her back,” he hisses.

A few taps and a dial tone later and we’re back to where we left off. Madame Franz is most certainly not deep in trance.

“Well? Respondeme, you bastard. I know you’re listening!”

Master deftly swipes the phone from Megan and lifts it to his ear, a sneer on his beautiful, perfect face. “Marta. You sound upset.”

“Andate a la conche de tu madre! Do you think… soy estúpida? I know what you’re up to, Avery Berman, you bastard!”

“What I’m up… sending you clients, Marta? Paying you to take good care of Cassie and Michelle every week? You’re about to lose all of that, so I suggest that you choose your next words very, very carefully.”

It’s obvious that Madame Franz isn’t hypnotized at all, and Master isn’t having it. Just why she’s not deep in trance isn’t a mystery he cares about at the moment. He’s going with threats instead, something I know that Old Tara despised. Rich guys, right? But Master is my rich guy, and I can’t wait to see how he demolishes this rude bitch.

“How would you like a visit from the Health Department, Madame Franz? Follow by the County Assessor, and the IRS? Believe me, I can make it happen. No me jodas.”

Ooooh. I don’t know what he said, but I want, want, want to throw him on the floor and fuck him senseless.

“We had a deal, Avery. You send me your whores and I debrief them. Send the information back to you. I didn’t tell a soul! Who the fuck are you to… to… conviérteme en ti marioneta? Cómo the atreves? You had your whore hypnotize me!”

Believe me when I say that Master is never, ever rattled, by anything. Until now. Megan and I both let out a little shocked gasp, our hands darting to cover our little O-shaped mouths. It takes a hot second for him to recover. How does she know? How could she know?

“Now you’re being delusional, Marta. Don’t make me add my lawyers to the mix. You’re in deep enough shit as it is.”

“Did you plan on fucking me, you bastard? No, don’t answer that. I know your type. I know you.”

“Should I add INS to my list? Are you sure you’re in the country legally? Maybe we should find out, if you continue to be uncooperative.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t—”

“I have never hypnotized you, Marta. Do you know what actually happened? Let me fill you in. You’re an idiot, and you let yourself get hooked by Megan Caminski. You nearly ruined things for me, you moron! You lazy, sloppy fool! Do you even realize how close you came to landing us both in jail? All because you’re too stupid to anticipate a counter-attack?”

“I’m smart enough to recognize when I’m a loose end, Avery. I want out. I want a cut of your money and an open-jaw plane ticket, delivered by sundown today. Anything less, and I turn over all of my phone records and documents to the police.”

“You’re bluffing. You have nothing. Those documents are entirely inside my girls’ heads.”

“Oh, like the XR-7 report? The classified XR-7 report? Paul Johnson was nice enough to make me a copy, which I am holding in my hand right this very moment. That was right before he conveniently disappeared… I’m sure you had nothing to do with that, either, right? Get one thing through that cráneo of yours, Avery. Don’t even think you can get cute and assume you can send one of your wind-up toys to bump me off, too. Paul thought with his dick. I think with my wallet. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? I have your attention now? Escúchame, asshole. I have all of their codes. All of your whores. If you try to sic them on me, I will put them into a trance, and send them straight to the police. I am not fucking around, and you know it. My demands. By sundown. Today.”

“Marta… you know what? Fine. Fine. With the money I’m about to make from this little venture, a 25% cut is peanuts. Is that enough?”

“It is. And a plane ticket. I plan on disappearing.”

“You’ll have it. No expense. Fly first-class if you want. I’m too close to the goal to have you fucking things up for me. You can expect a visit from—”

“From you, or from one of your hypnotized puppets?”

“From one of my hypnotized puppets.” His voice drips acid. God bless Master! “Cassie, specifically. She’ll be under strict orders to hand over a sizable amount of money and a handful of airline vouchers. Take your pick of them.”

“And if you even—”

“You have me backed into a corner, you bitch. Rest assured that if you ever show your face in Los Angeles again, I’ll have you at the bottom of the Pacific before you know it. Understood?”

There’s another long pause.

“Are. We. Clear? Understood?”

“Entiendo.”

That’s good enough for him. For us. “Good.”

“I’m afraid your conditioning will have to wait for another day after all, Tara.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I need you to go down to that spa and cut Marta’s treasonous fucking throat. Can you do that for me, my sexy little killer?”

“Of course, Master.”