The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The next morning, Lacy once again assumed control of the itinerary. Over breakfast at the casino buffet, the blonde laid out today’s schedule.

“We’re doing boutique shopping tomorrow,” Lacy reminded her bridesmaids. “Today is for horseback riding! Then that casino roller coaster, and then some actual gambling. All with drinks in between, of course.”

“And for tonight?” DeFaun wanted to know.

“Thunder From Down Under,” replied Lacy wickedly. “C’mon, its my bachelorette party! Of course we gotta see male strippers.”

“Ugh,” was DeFaun’s opinion.

Jane smiled gamely.

But as the day wore on, Jane found it impossible to focus in the moment. All while on horseback, while on the roller coaster, and during many hands of Blackjack, Jane found her thoughts turning back to… Stephen Tallon, stage hypnotist. Jane thought about how she’d utterly fallen under the man’s spell. Why did she keep obsessing-

“…ma’am?” the Blackjack dealer said in annoyance.

Jane’s daydream popped. She jumped, realizing that the whole blackjack table was glaring at her.

Lacy nudged Jane in the ribs. “Janie, you with us?”

“Your turn, ma’am,” the dealer frowned. “Hit or stand?”

“Uhhhhh…” Jane had no idea. “Uh, hit me, I guess.”

The dealer shrugged, dealing one more card. Too late, Jane realized she’d just hit on nineteen.

“Jesus, Janie,” teased Lacy. “Maybe you should go and lie down? You’re spacing, girl.”

Dinner was at a Western steakhouse. Jane ordered a cob salad, but could barely keep her thoughts on her meal. She was restless.

“…and then, Trevor realizes that we don’t fucking have any condoms,” Lacy was saying, coming to the punchline of her story. “Of course, right? So what the fuck are he ’nd me to do? So I—“

Before she could stop herself, Jane rose to her feet, setting down her napkin. Lacy, Ashlyn, DeFaun, and Sariah all looked at her in surprise.

“I, uh…” Jane mumbled. “Guys, maybe I’ll call this an early night?”

“What? Nooooo!” Lacy exclaimed. “Janie, the evening’s just started!”

“Eh, I’ve had enough excitement for one day,” Jane begged off. “I think I’m gonna turn in.”

Her oldest friend looked indignant. “But… Thunder From Down Under!” Lacy protested. “I’ve already got the tickets!”

“I’ll pay you,” Jane promised. Before Lacy could say anything else, Jane set two twenties onto the table for her meal. Then she left.

Jane crossed the Casino Main Lobby, absently smoothing out the folds of her red top. She strolled past the Hotel Front Desk, looking for the Concierge. By a miracle, there was no line.

The heavyset woman at Concierge looked weary and bored. “May I help you?” she yawned.

To her surprise, Jane realized that her heart was thumping loudly. “One ticket to the Dr. Stephen Tallon: Master of Hypnotism! show. For tonight, please,” she requested.

The Concierge Lady typed on her computer. “Sold out,” she reported tonelessly.

Jane’s spirits plunged.

“Are there… any other hypnosis shows?” the younger woman asked. “Available for tonight, I mean.”

The other woman consulted her computer once more. “Eh… Erm… Oh, yeah. We got Dirty Drake’s Hypno Party Jam: An R-Rated Adult Show. That’s at the Old Roxy. Way off the Strip.”

Jane felt her vagina purr with desire. Her heart was pounding even harder now.

“One, please?” she asked.

The taxi driver pulled down a dark, barely-lit street. From the enger window, Jane could see bars and pawn shops and convenience stores. There was even a check-for-cash place, right next to Peep Show Extravaganza. More than one homeless fellow was sprawled against the buildings, nursing what was obviously alcohol inside a paper bag.

At the end of the block was an old 1960’s-era theatre, boldly named the Old Roxy. The Roxy’s marquis was plastered with decades of B Movie Posters, most of those movies looking quite awful. A large clapboard of plywood was set outside the box office, proclaiming that “Dirty Drake’s Hypno Party Jam: An R-Rated Adult Show” was playing tonight. The sign featured a cartoon of a buxom woman, her eyes turned into hypno-spirals. She was taking off her clothes.

“Uh, so, this is it,” the cabbie told Jane, looking at the theatre warily. “Lady, you wanna keep my number in your phone? For the ride back?”

“Thanks,” Jane said, paying him.

The Roxy’s interior was small and dank, with countless different aromas wafting through the air. There were perhaps a hundred people in the audience, sitting at the makeshift tables, making small conversations and smoking cigarettes. A bar was to the rear of the theatre, doing brisk business. As at the Majestic, there was an empty row of folding chairs set up on the stage. Ugly thrash music blared from the loudspeakers.

As she picked out a chair for herself, Jane looked about at her fellow audience . They were youthful, probably in their twenties and thirties. Most were dressed for the nightlife: Jane saw tight dresses, button-down shirts, jeans, cowboy boots, lots of cleavage. There was much body art and perhaps a third of these people had too many body piercings. The mood was surly, as if the audience didn’t know if it wanted to be entertained or see a fistfight. Were these people locals? Or tourists? Jane couldn’t say.

More than one sneering person looked Jane over from head-to-toe. She shifted uncomfortably. Why hadn’t she dressed differently? Here she was, in her conservative blouse, slacks, flat shoes…

Oh, wait. Jane looked down at herself, surprised. She wasn’t in her blouse and slacks! She was wearing another outfit entirely!

On her body, Jane saw her red top, the sexy one with the open neckline. Added to that was a tight belt, a knee-length skirt, and two-inch pumps.

In fact, now that Jane thought about it… She’d changed her underwear, too. She’d discarded the Target-purchased Haines for her matching pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and panties set. The only piece of sexy underwear that she owned.

What the heck???

Jane thought hard, replaying the events of the evening in her mind:

Two hours ago, she was in the steakhouse. Lacy was prattling on about sex stories with Trevor. At the dinner, Jane had been wearing a blouse, slacks, flat shoes, boring underwear.

Then Jane had excused herself and left the steakhouse. As if her brain was on autopilot, Jane had returned to her hotel room. Now she ed! Once back in her room, Jane had stripped completely naked. Showered. Changed into the Victoria’s Secret set. Done her makeup. Squeezed into the cleavage-bearing top and skirt.

By the time Jane had glided back down to the hotel lobby, she’d completely changed her outfit. Why didn’t she doing any of this? It was as if…

…she had done it all in a trance.

Jane blinked in sheer amazement.

Before she could dwell any further, however, the awful preshow music faded out. The theatre’s house lights dimmed.

“Ay, ay, ay, ladies and gents!” boomed a voice over an unseen mic. “Are ya ready to get horny??? Well, welcome to the stage that Master of the Mind, the Dude who will snap his fingers to make ya cum, the one… the only… Dirty Drake!!!”

A lean, energetic man bounded onto the stage, dressed all in black. Jane blinked in surprise. “Dirty Drake” was actually quite attractive, in a dark and shadowy way. His chiseled face was striking, highlighting his glittering dark eyes and hawklike nose. The man’s hair was jet-black and quite curly. Jane also noted that the man’s button-down shirt was open down to his belt, showing off his toned, impressive chest and abdominal muscles. His whole outfit looked expensive. Jane guessed that Drake was thirty-five years old.

“Hey hey hey,” Drake said rapid-fire into his handheld mic. “Good to see ya, folks. And as you know, here at Dirty Drake’s, we’re all about making you feel good. Soooooooooo good, you know what I’m sayin’?” He chuckled darkly.

Without waiting for the audience reaction, Drake launched into his sales pitch: “So, yeah, this is an R-Rated hypnosis show, everybody. That means that, yeah, if you come up on my stage to get hypnotized, you will be doing R-Rated shit. Like what? Ladies, are you gonna show off your tits? Gents, are you gonna whip out your dicks? Will there be fucking? I’ll be honest: I don’t know. Its all possible. How much does down depends on how depraved you are, not me.”

The audience hooted and roared with applause.

With a voice thick in drama, Drake promised, “I will say this: The folks who come up on this stage will be turned into sex gods, fucking sex gods! And I guarantee you—I one hundred percent fucking guarantee you—that lady who gets hypnotized tonight will have at least one mindblowing orgasm before they go to bed. Every last one of you.” He paused. “Gentlemen, if you cum, I don’t wanna see it.”

Guffaws from the audience. Some scattered clapping.

Jane swallowed, realizing that her legs were crossed, and she was holding them tightly together. Her breath was racing, uneven. Her palms were sweating. She was trembling. Even more alarming… and exciting… was the realization that her vagina was growing wet.

“Now then!” boomed Drake. “Who’s comin’ up? Who wants to get jazzed? Who’s ready to maybe be a porn star for the night? Come up here, gimme your subconscious mind, and see how sexual you can get!”

“Me!” Jane heard herself cry out. Her hand shot up. “Me! I volunteer!”

Several people about Jane turned to stare at her. Jane blushed, but she did not lower her hand.

“I ain’t takin’ attendance,” scoffed Drake. “You wanna get hypnotized? Get up here!”

Jane was the first onto the stage.

What am I doing??? the young woman thought in a panic. No, this isn’t me!!!

And yet, Jane’s body refused to listen to her brain. Before she knew it, she was sitting in the center folding chair, making herself comfortable and crossing her long legs.

Drake paused to eye Jane. Was he checking her out? Jane shivered. She didn’t know if she hoped he was or not.

More people were trickling up onto the stage. A few rowdy biker guys, some drunken young women in minidresses, an overweight fellow in a Steelers jersey, two goth chicks in all-black outfits, then more people.

The pair of goth women sat next to Jane. The closer of the two ed a judgmental stare over Jane’s outfit.

“Uh, hi,” Jane said nervously.

“Hey,” drawled the Goth Chick.

“You, ah…” Jane swallowed. “You ever done this before?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” the second Goth woman replied. “My friend and me, we were both here last week.”

“Yeah?” Jane was curious. “And…?”

The first woman nodded toward Drake. “This guy,” she murmured. “This guy is better than my fucking vibrator. Last week, he hypnotized me to cum whenever he said ‘presto’, or some such shit. And he said ‘presto,’ like, a million fucking times.” She sighed. “I wish I could get him to come to my apartment.”

The Goth Chick eyed Jane again. “Whaddabout you? You ever done this before?”

“Gotten hypnotized on stage? Once,” itted Jane. “Well, not this show.”

“Oh shit,” Goth Chick snorted. “Well, honey, you’re in for a real mindfuck.”

The lights dimmed. Drake stood before his volunteers, clutching his microphone in both hands. He hunched his shoulders slightly.

“Everyone up on stage, you will close your eyes,” he demanded. “You are relaxing…”

Jane’s eyes slid shut. She sensed the Goth Chick easing into a ive body stance. Every volunteers’ breathing was slowing down, becoming deeper. And calmer. The theatre was quiet, with only Drake’s electric baritone commanding the air.

“…your muscles are relaxing completely,” instructed the hypnotist. “As you focus on the sound of my voice and only the sound of my voice, all other sounds fade away. You are responsive to the suggestions that I place within your mind. You are going deeper…” His voice flowed on…

Gradually, it felt as if Jane’s whole body was being transformed into jelly. She couldn’t move. Everything felt heavy. The air was warm. Drake’s words flowed on and on, becoming the whole universe.

Am I being hypnotized? Jane wondered absently. She couldn’t tell. She had absolutely no memory of falling under Stephen Tallon’s power, so there was no way to know if history was repeating itself. The idea that she was slipping into a ive, submissive world was… mmmmm…

Time bled into timelessness. Drake was now strolling up and down before his volunteers, speaking continuously. Occasionally, Jane could sense him reaching out to touch the arms or shoulders of people, and once she detected his strong fingers lifting up her own arm. To Jane’s amazement, that arm was heavy and limp, as if turned into a thick cord of rope! Was she dreaming?

Then, Drake touched the Goth Chick’s shoulder, and suddenly Goth Chick’s body was resting fully against Jane’s. It was as though the other woman had been turned into a sack of potatoes, and now the full weight of that sack was pushed against her. Jane could feel the other woman’s weight, detect her heartbeat, feel her inhale and exhale. Goth Chick seemed completely asleep.

“And now,” Drake announced, “you will all follow and obey every suggestion I put within your mind. You have no will of your own. All your inhibitions are now erased. You will automatically do, say, and believe whatever I tell you. You cannot resist. You cannot resist. You cannot resist…”

I cannot resist… Jane’s thoughts mindlessly echoed.

And then, she could nothing more.