The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1.

Vanessa Siegel wasn’t at all surprised about Montreal’s weather, nor should she have been. In fact she was used to it.

After all, she was a Canadian and had spent a significant amount of her childhood in Montreal Quebec .She had experienced her fair share of long winters (and the amazing winter carnival Montreal had each year). Despite this, the cold and the snow still made the drive to her parent’s house very difficult. Moreover it was near the end of April. Spring was supposed to have begun a month ago.

Yet, if you judged the Montreal landscape you’d think it was the beginning of January, There was heavy snowfall, freezing temperatures around -4 degrees Celsius (28 degrees Fahrenheit), strong, chilly, winds, and even what looked like small chunks of hail.

There was going to be an Easter party there tomorrow, and all of her family and friends would be there. Moreover, they would be excited to see her because she had spent the past few months working in Michigan. You see, Vanessa was a casting director and executive producer for a popular reality show, Cross-Border Cooks. As its name implied cooks from throughout North America (Canada, the United States, and Mexico) competed in cooking contests by making dishes requested by the producer s and showrunners. The dishes had to come from one of the three countries (though they could be assigned to contestants from any country). The first season has been a hit and she was currently tasked with finding possible Canadian contestants for the second.

However, that would begin after Easter. Right now, Vanessa was focused on getting to her parents house in time for the holiday. The weather, however, was not making this easy. She truly was back in Canada. She was also lost.

Indeed, for the snow had been so heavy that she had clearly made a wrong turn and had driven into a place that was completely unfamiliar to her. Fortunately there was a way to fix that: the GPS. She typed in the coordinates for her parents’ house “1245…Cobblestone Street…” the GPS electronic voice uttered choppily “turn left on highlighted route and.. go…twenty miles.”

Vanessa was ready to do just that, when the GPS suddenly shut down. It must have been the weather.

“Aw, come on!” Vanessa said exasperatedly.

Vanessa then tried to turn left and follow the GPS directions from memory. She went a few more miles in the right direction until she heard a puncturing sound, then a sound akin to a balloon deflating. She got out of her car and found the sounds source. She had run over a small sharp object and now her car’s left rear tire was flat!

“Shit!” Vanessa screamed. How was she going to get to her parents now?

Then she ed. This very winter she had gotten run-flat tires for her car. It would allow her to go for at least some distance even if the tire was punctured before having to change it. Then she realized a few things. It was sunset, she was in an unfamiliar area, and she had not eaten in a while and was quite hungry. Moreover, she had no idea where the next service station was. “Goddamn it,” Vanessa hissed in frustration.

Then she saw it: right up the road there was a large house. It could even be a mansion. Maybe she could ask the owner for directions and call for assistance. Granted, she didn’t know who lived there or if they were even home, but she had to try. There really weren’t any other options.

She took a deep breath, drove to the house, and got out of her car.

2.

She slowly made her way to the house door. The house’s entrance was on an incline and the blowing snow made the trek more arduous than it ever had a right to be. At least Vanessa had dressed for the weather. She currently had a plaid winter coat with a red and black square pattern. Underneath, she wore a red turtleneck sweater, black skirt, and black tights that covered her from her waist to the tips of her toes. She also had a pear shaped face, short blond hair, baby blue eyes, full lips and was wearing a pair of black high-heeled shoes. Granted, the last of these were probably a bad idea, but at least dressed warmly.

The house was a bricked home with a red wooden door and an old-fashioned knocker on it. It had large ovular windows and a noticeable light coming from inside. Vanessa mustered all her strength and knocked on the door three times. After about ten seconds, Vanessa heard the door unlock and saw it open. Standing before her was a thin tall woman with blue eyes, long curly blonde hair that framed a cherubic face. She looked like she was in her early 20s (Vanessa, by the way, was 40 years old). She wore a long-sleeved black dress, black tights that covered her from her waist to the tips of her toes, and some classy black loafers.

“Bonjour,” the woman said with a slight Quebecois accent. “Comment puis-je vous aider?” That was French for “how can I help you?”

“Parlais vous Anglais?” Vanessa said, to tired to hold a conversation in French at this moment

“Oui, yes,” the woman replied jovially. “What do you need?”

“Well, I am lost, have a flat tire, and my car has broken down, could I get directions to 1245 Cobblestone Street?”

“Oh, that’s a ways away. It’s about half an hour from here. I am not sure where you can find the next service station.”

“Damn,” Vanessa cursed.

“You know,” the woman said. “Let me tell you what. I am almost done making dinner and I am going to be alone tonight. Why not stay with me? You can even share in my dinner. I make a good meal.”

Vanessa thought for a moment. Sure, why not? She said to herself. It had been a long day, the woman seemed harmless, she was quite hungry, and she was not looking forward to a long night-time slog through the snowdrifts

“Okay, that sounds great,” Vanessa accepted. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” the woman said.

“By the way,” Vanessa inquired surprised that she hadn’t as the woman’s name yet “who am I thanking?”

“My name’s Alison. Alison Beauregard. What’s yours?”

“Vanessa Siegel,” responded, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Alison said shaking it. Then her eyes widened. “Hey wait, are you the Vanessa Siegel?”

“What do you mean ‘the Vanessa Siegel?”’

“The one from Cuisinaires Transfrontailers, Cross-Border Cooks?”

“Oh, as a matter of fact I am” Vanessa said giving in. She must have paid close attention to the show’s ending credits (and Vanessa’s sporadic on camera appearances related to it). “I ask that you please not tell the whole world I’m here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep everything under wraps,” Alison reassured. “It’s just that, I am a huge fan of the show. I’ve always wanted to cook professionally since I was a little girl. If I got a spot on your cooking show, it would be a dream come true for me.”

“That’s very flattering,” Vanessa said.

“Why don’t we sit down to dinner so you can get a sneak peak?”

“Okay, just that this does not mean that you are guaranteed to be chosen as a possible contestant.”

“I know,” Alison said outwardly. Inwardly she added that’s what you think.

3.

Well, Vanessa had to it that Alison’s food was excellent. For dinner, Alison had made duck poutine. It consisted of several French fries covered, with warm cheddar cheese curds bacon bits, and gravy, and—you guessed it—huge chunks of duck meat strewn throughout the dish. Each bite of the duck meat was a juicy bit of heaven. The fries and gravy brought back memories of her childhood in Montreal when she ordered poutine at Le Restaurant Quebecois, a then (and Vanessa hoped currently) popular local eatery. While she dug into her food, Alison was more delicate. She ate a bit as she cut into the dish with a knife and fork. Despite her dainty manner, she seemed to be enjoying the food just as much as Vanessa was. After they finished the poutine, Alison brought out dessert. It was truly elegant. Alison called it her double chocolate mousse cake. It was aptly named. It was a chocolate brownie cake with chocolate mousse for icing and a scoop of ice cream and a luscious strawberry on top. She would have called it delicious but felt that was too mild a descriptor. A whole new word need to be created to describe its tastiness.

“Excellent job,” she said to Alison as the latter cleaned the table.

”Thanks so much,” Vanessa responded. There is actually one more thing I want to give you.

“I’m stuffed,” Vanessa said “I don’t think I could eat another bite.”

“It’s a drink not food,” Vanessa corrected. “It’s honey flavoured herbal tea.”

“I see,” Vanessa said.

“Do you mind drinking it on the coach with me?”

“Sure,” Vanessa said. “Why not?”

“Thank so much, you don’t know how happy this makes me,” Alison said.

“No problem,” Vanessa said as she nervously giggled to herself.

Vanessa sat on the couch. Alison made the tea (it took a little white to mix) and ed her. Alison said she was cold and asked Vanessa if she was fine with her turning on the fireplace. She said she was. The two sipped their tea. Like all of Alison’s concoctions the tea was quite good.

Actually, everything seemed so picturesque: two attractive, well-dressed women, sipping tea before a roaring fireplace while heavy snow fell outside. Then the two got to talking.

Well, more accurately Alison got to talking. She talked about how she wanted to be a professional chef since she was a child, the long periods she spent with her (unfortunately now deceased mother, helping her prepare meals), and how she always wanted to win a cook-off like the ones on Cross-Border Cooks.

She also talked about her ion for food and how fiery it was. Indeed it was so fiery it could consume her mind. Her ion was just as strong as the flames in the fireplace. All Vanessa had to do to realize this was to look at them. She had to focus her attention on them and then she would know. She had to look at those beautiful warm flames and let them consume her to know how ion she had. She had to put everything else out of her mind except the flames. She had to watch the flickering flames, just watch them and let them consume her.

By now Vanessa could barely what Alison was saying she was too focused on the fire. Indeed, it was really consuming her mind. It was the only thing she could see. She was so focused on it she could barely keep her eyes open. Then she couldn’t keep her eyes open at all. They then shut and Vanessa was slumped on the couch—her head on Alison’s lapped.

Alison smirked mischievously. Her little trick had, once again, gone exactly as planned. You see, Alison was not only a very skilled chef; she was also a very skilled hypnotist. With her soothing French-Canadian voice, roaring fire, and the hypnotic drug that she had slipped into Vanessa’s tea, she had put her in the deepest of trances. With a little more conditioning she would be completely under her control and would have to follow her commands.

“Vanessa,” Alison intoned. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Vanessa stirred, still slumped in the chair.

“Good,” Alison responded. “Now the flames have consumed your mind, haven’t they?”

“Yes,” Vanessa responded sleepily.

“That means you cannot think for yourself. You need someone to think for you.”

“Cannot think for self…need someone to think for me.”

“I am that someone, Vanessa. I think for you”

“You…think for me.”

“That means you must obey me. You must do everything I tell you to do.”

“Obey you…do…everything you tell me…” Vanessa agreed.

“Excellent,” Alison said smirking. “Vanessa, please sit up straight and open your eyes, but remain deeply hypnotized.”

Vanessa did so, and stared blankly at the fireplace. Vanessa shut the fireplace off and the flames gradually dissipated. “From now on, I am your love, I am your Ma Cherie,” Alison continued. “Whenever I give you a command you will refer to me as such. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma Cherie,” Vanessa responded.

“Now when I clap my hands you will take off all of your clothes, do you understand?’

“Yes Ma Cherie,” Vanessa said tonelessly as Alison clapped her hands. Vanessa began to comply. She pulled her turtleneck (and undershirt) over her head revealing a dark bra. That dark bra soon ed her shirts on the floor, revealing a nice pair of breasts. Then she shimmied out of her skirt and was ready to slide her tights off.

“Leave the tights on,” Alison commanded. Vanessa complied. Her black tights were also the only thing Alison was wearing. Her body was amazing. She had large breasts, their nipples covered by her long blonde hair and nice smooth skin.

“Now Vanessa,” Alison said with a grin. We are now going to have a ‘tights fight.’ This is basically leg wrestling but with our tights on. You will put all the effort you can into the fight. Understood?”

“Yes Ma Cherie,” she said. Then Alison laid down on her back and had Vanessa do the same. Alison slid over to her and began to push down on Vanessa’s right leg with her left. Vanessa began to push back. Alison loved the feel of Vanessa’s leg against hers as well as the sounds their tights made while they were rubbing against each other. Each women pushed and pushed until Alison got the upper hand. Then she pinned Vanessa’s leg down for three seconds and won!

“I won, but you put up a very good fight,” Alison complimented. “That deserves a reward. Stay here while I go get it.”

“Yes Ma Cherie,” Vanessa said. She grinned vacuously in anticipation of the reward her mistress would give her,

That reward turned out to be a big tub of French Vanilla Ice Cream and an ice cream scoop.

“Now, Vanessa, you are a very sweet woman. So sweet in fact I am going to give you a treat. You will take off your tights and I will then lather you in ice cream and then lick it off, and make love to you. After this you will do the same to me. You will not try to stop me in fact you will enjoy this more than anything. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma Cherie,” Vanessa said. She reached around to her backside and slid her tights off. Alison did the same and began scooping the ice cream and placing it in various areas of Vanessa’s body. Then Alison began her licking spree. She started with Vanessa’s mouth licking away the small amount of ice cream there and then moving on to a kiss. Their lip lock was divine and so were Alison’s licks. After a few more minutes of this French kissing Alison moved to Vanessa’s breasts while some of the ice cream may have gotten onto Alison’s naked body she didn’t care. She took big bites out of the ice cream on Vanessa’s breasts while Vanessa sighed in pleasure. She then began to lick and bite the breasts themselves. Vanessa giggled and yelped in succession, her pleasure and pain entwined. After finishing this Alison licked all of the ice cream off Vanessa ’s legs and then moved to the feature attraction: Vanessa’s vagina. She assaulted the caster’s clit with her tongue. Alison loved the odd taste from the combination of ice cream and pubic hair. Vanessa was enjoying it too, ecstasy the only thing the mind controlled casting director could feel in her hypnotic state. Alison licked and licked until Vanessa’s aroused spilled over and she climaxed all over Alison’s face. Alison smiled, not really minding it. She had Vanessa and her switch roles. She sat back while Vanessa reached for the ice cream scoop, thinking how she would soon be screaming…just not for ice cream.

4.

Alison smiled as she entered the kitchen area. It had been a few months since her encounter with Vanessa. After their love making she had erased Vanessa’s memory of the escapade, given her a trigger phrase (“your mind is cooked”) that would make her a slave to Alison once again whenever she said it and had her fall into a deep and happy sleep. She had also placed a posthypnotic suggestion into her so that she would do everything possible to make Alison a contestant on the next Cross-Border Cooks (and Vanessa had succeeded). The next morning, Alison had fixed Vanessa’s tire, given her the correct directions to the Easter party and as far as she knew everything went off without a hitch.

A recommendation from Vanessa here and the provision of her sample dishes there and she was on the show and ready to cook. While her hypnotic skills had given her a foot in the door, she was not going to use them to win the contest. It wouldn’t be fair to the other contestants. Besides, she wanted to win on the quality of her dishes. She wanted the show’s organizers to enjoy eating her dishes just as much as she enjoyed her and Vanessa eating out each other. Bon appétit!