The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The first weeks of my life in college were quite uneventful: I had chosen to study Psychology because, well, as surprising as this may seem, it was the easy choice. Both my parents studied Psychology, although none of them would become ‘psychologists’ professionally: my father was a high school teacher, and my mother worked at the Mental Health department of a big pharmaceutical company, a totally useless job which was only justified because big companies were required to have a Mental Health department, and my mother needed a job to pay for my college education.

But I digress. What I wanted to explain is that I did not go into Psychology because I was particularly drawn by the field or because I was ionate about the human mind. I did it, because... well, because I am a bit of a push-over and my parents wanted me to.

I am also quite an introvert person, probably because I grew with the fear of my every word being psychoanalyzed by my parents, so I did not make many friends or attend many parties in those first weeks. (I attended none). My life basically consisted of going to classes, getting bored to death by them, going back to my dorm, where I was lucky enough to have an individual room, reading and studying for a while, masturbating to some big-titted MILF porn, which was my preferred niche, and then falling asleep on my seed-stained sheets. Lather, rinse, repeat, day after day.

I could have navigated through my four years of college like that: go through the motions, get my degree, and then go back home to become either my mother or my father.

If it wasn’t for her.

At first, she didn’t have a name. Later I discovered that her name was Min, which in Chinese means ‘clever’ but sounds like ‘mean’, both of which are apt ways of describing her. She was Asian-American, quite pretty in a low-key way, with dark eyes and pale skin, short hair and thin lips. She always looked very alert, as if she were measuring everything and everyone around her all the time, looking for possible dangers, or maybe identifying new preys to hunt. I would not say that she was sexy: she didn’t have many curves in her body, and she didn’t seem to do much to accentuate them. She used to wear plain and elegant clothes, but nothing too over-the-top: long pleaded skirts, single-colored blouses, a coat and a scarf during Winter. And flat open sandals; always flat open sandals, even in the coldest days.

I used to sit in the last row of the classroom, where I did my best not to get noticed either by teachers or classmates; she used to sit two rows in front of me, a little to the left, closer to the window. Why did it take me almost a month to notice her? And why did I notice her when I did? I have no clear answer to the first question: maybe during the first weeks I was still trying to focus on the content of the lectures, or maybe she did not attend those first weeks for some reason.

As for the second question, I do have a clear answer: I noticed her because, apart from being quite pretty, she rubbed her bare feet during the classes.

Constantly.

Like, all the time.

In fact, she had an extremely regular ritual, which she repeated over and over, for the whole duration of the lecture: she would first rub one foot over the other one, starting on the heel, and then moving down to the tip her toes, and then back up to her heel, gently, calmly, slowly. She would repeat this movement five times, and then she would change to the other foot, rub it five times and change again. It was not the kind of rubbing that you do when something itches, but the kind of repetitive movement you do to sooth yourself without even realizing.

And she seemed to be trying to sooth herself, by rubbing her feet together constantly.

Like: all the time.

I could see it all from my privileged position, just a couple of meters behind her: she would sit down, put all her books and notebooks perfectly aligned on the table, and then she would take off her shoes and start her slow and precise foot rubbing rituals. Rub, rub, rub, rub, rub, change, rub, rub, rub, rub, rub, change, etc.

At first this was distracting, almost annoying. But as days ed, I got not only used but addicted to her foot rubbing habits. I just couldn’t look away. Firstly, because her feet were an absolute delight to look at: they were petite, perfectly delicate, with high arches and miniature toes. They didn’t seem to be pedicured, in a salon, I mean, but they perfectly taken care of: her toenails were precisely trimmed but unpainted, her heels showed no imperfections, no dead skin or hardness from wearing open footwear all the time. The skin in her soles looked as smooth as porcelain; when the sun shined on her feet, they reflected it and sparkled with what I assumed were microscopic drops of sweat. And her high arches, well, they were so perfectly designed that they could belong in a classical statue.

They were, well, just gorgeous.

The other reason I couldn’t look away was because the rhythm of her rubbing was, for use of a better word, mesmerizing. It was so regular, her movements so perfectly timed and measured, that it was relaxing to watch. If I concentrated myself and the room was silent, I could almost hear the velvety sound of her delicate white sole as it caressed the bridge of the other foot. It was easy to let yourself get lost in the smoothness and the beauty of it all; we very rarely get to find perfection in our mundane lives, and this, well, this was just perfection itself.

And here is the thing: for some reason, this whole foot rubbing thing was turning me on. Like: a lot. Even though I never had particularly cared about female feet or Asian women before. Big-titted white MILFs, that was my thing. Why was it, then, that the moment my eyes got a glimpse of Min’s divine soles I got hard as a rock?

The truth is, just a few weeks after I noticed her presence for the first time, I stopped noticing anything else, namely the voice of the teachers or the questions from my colleagues. While I was watch her, the world was on mute, my senses were all focused on iring the entrancing dance of my classmate’s beautiful feet: my eyes were so drawn to her arches and soles that I almost forgot to blink, my ears buzzed and rang with the soft sound of her soothing rubbing and my mind seemed to swirl in a state of constant and pleasant dizziness.

I got so fixated in her feet rituals, that by the end of the semester I was just attending my classes exclusively to watch her rub her feet. Of course, this had consequences on my academic performance: my mid-term results were average at best; the end-of-term exams were catastrophic.

Not that I cared much about that by then.

Because Lin’s feet were affecting me in other more serious, deeper senses too. Every day, when I got home after my classes, I didn’t read or study anymore: I masturbated as a monkey, thinking about Min and her petite feet, imagining myself iring them up close, touching them, kissing them, worshipping them. The mere idea of receiving a footjob from her was enough to make me cum in seconds. If I tried to watch any other kind porn, it just no longer did anything for me; even Asian foot fetish porn was unsatisfying, because, well, those pretty Asian ladies with delicate petite feet were just not my pretty Asian lady with delicate petite feet. I don’t know how many times I jerked off during those months; I do know that my dick got so sore that I had to apply soothing lotion before and after my, ahem, little hobbies.

Weekends were the worst. Two whole days, 48 hours, without seeing my foot goddess (yes, I had started mentally calling her that) were unbearable. I tried to read, to sleep, to distract myself from my addiction, but it was all useless. Whenever I got too anxious at my dorm, I got out and walked around campus, like a zombie, hoping to find her by mere chance. It never happened: when I thought that I had spotted her, it always turned out to be another Asian-American girl of similar height and shape. I once followed a girl around for half an hour before she called the police on me and I saw that, up close, she looked nothing like Min.

I didn’t know where she lived, I had no way of ing her. If she abandoned her studies for any reason, it would be impossible for me to find her; I didn’t even know her last name.

On Monday mornings, I was always the first in class. I would sit on my spot in the back of the class, biting my nails and holding my breath. I would only relax when I saw her enter the room, perfectly on time (not a minute too early, not a minute too late) and sit in her usual place. And when she started her foot-rubbing cycle, I would let out a sigh of relieve, as my whole body relaxed and my mind went back to its foggy state of aroused adoration.

Her feet were perfect. Have I already said that? Her feet are perfection itself.

The end of the semester terrified me. If a weekend was unbearable for me, how could I survive through the whole Christmas break? I was an addict now, I needed my daily dose of my foot goddess, and there was no methadone that I could use to trick myself.

I had to know more about her. I had to find out where she lived and maybe even talk to her. Talk to her! The mere idea terrified me: I was shy, and she was intimidating. She was intimidating as hell, with her piercing eyes and her predatory expression. But the alternative — not seeing her for four whole weeks — was even worse.

I decided to follow her after one of our last exams. She was always quick to finish her tests, so when she handed her responses, I quickly got up and handed mine too (which were completely blank, because I had spent the whole time looking at her feet). When I exited the room, she was already turning a corner, and I had to sprint to get close to her.

We got out of school, me walking three or four meters behind her. She did not swing her hips when she walked; instead, it looked like she floated over the ground. I noticed that, which every step, her soles would get away from the sandals for a split second, and I was able to catch a glimpse of those beautiful objects of my infatuation.

I don’t know how long we walked like that, or where we went; for all I know, we could have been walking in circles around a tree. After a while, she stopped and turned around to face me. That is probably the first time that I looked directly into her eyes: her deep, piercing black eyes. When she recognized me, a smirk appeared in her face, which sent a shiver down my spine.

“Do you live alone?”, she asked.

“Wha... what?”, I answered, still too intimidated to react.

“Do you live in a room or in a house alone. Somewhere where we can have some privacy”

“Y... yes. I live in a single room in a dorm”

“What’s the address?”

“24 Milton Road. Room 12B”.

“I know where it is. Follow me”.

And with that, she started walking again, this time with a clear destination, and I kept following her like a puppy, contented with the very brief instances in which I was able to see the milky skin of her feet under the skirt.

We got to my dorm and I opened the door to my room in a daze. I didn’t know if anybody had seen as going in together and, quite frankly, I didn’t care.

Min closed the door behind her, and looked around, measuring everything with her usual overly-focused expression.

“So, you live in this dump, huh?”

I didn’t answer, embarrassed by the mess and the thick smell of the room.

“Tell me”, she said when she finished her inspection, “have you ever masturbated thinking about my feet in this room?”

“Huh? Nnnnnh... I mean... No, no, never!”

She got closer to me and looked straight into my frightened eyes.

“Come on. Be honest. If you are honest, you might get a reward later”

I swallowed and decided that it was best to follow her instructions. That is a lie: I didn’t decide anything, it was impossible for me to resist the urge or responding truthfully to my goddess.

“Yes, I have, ahem, I have touched myself a few times thinking about your feet”

“A few times?”

“A few times... per week”

“Good, good”, she chuckled. “Then I think you are ready for the next step”.

She sat on my desk, with her feet dangling in the air between us.

“Kneel in front of me”, she ordered with a steady voice.

My first instinct was to obey, trained as I was to be a nice compliant boy, but then my conscious mind reacted and I gave a step back.

“No! I am not kneeling in front of you... or anybody!”, I claimed.

“Oh, so cute”, Min replied with a chuckle, “trying to resist my commands. Sweetheart, you relinquished that possibility a long, long time ago”.

And as she said that, she started moving her feet, dangling them back and forth, back and forth, and rubbing them in her very specific and enticing way. From heel to toes, ing her bridge all the way under the sole from heel to toes, and then back, from her sweet petite toes to her marvelous heels. Five times, and then change to the other foot.

And just like that, my month-long addiction kicked in: my ears started buzzing, my mind got foggy and dense like hot soup, my eyes became fixated in the entrancing movement of her feet, and my dick became as hard as a rock in a second, already conditioned to associate Min’s feet with masturbation and release.

“Kneel in front of me, boy”, Min repeated.

And I knelt, of course I knelt, so that I could have her feet directly in front of my eyes, just a few inches away from my face, from my lips, from my tongue.

Her feet kept going back and forth, back and forth. Rubbing against each other in their intoxicating and perfectly constant rhythm, the one that I had learned to love and crave over the past few months. My mind was so absorbed in my foot adorating state that it didn’t even the moment Min started talking, or the words she was saying. In the mist of my confusion, I heard a few phrases like “don’t look away”, “you crave my feet”, “you belong to me” or “you are getting weaker”, but those sentences went straight ed my conscious mind and latched themselves into my deeper subconscious.

I don’t know how long we stayed in that position: Min in front of me, dangling and rubbing her feet and reciting brainwashing mantras in a soft, compelling and monotonous voice, and me, kneeling, drooling, lost in a haze of pure desire and anticipation. Soon, without even realizing it, I was totally naked and jerking off as I watched the objects of my ion.

I only snapped out of my trance when Min stopped her foot rubbing and opened her legs slightly. I could see what she wanted me to see: that she was not wearing any panties under her skirt.

“Come here”, she said, and she didn’t even need to be more specific: I crawled towards her and sank my face and my mouth in the darkness of her thighs.

My lips found the outer labia of her pussy, and I started to lick them and suck them inside my mouth with delight. I could feel her feet planted on my shoulders, rubbing it up and down, up and down, from the heels to the toes, from the toes to the heels, in the same hypnotic cadence that she used for her foot rubbing rituals. The softness of her soles was unreal, and feeling it massaging the back of my head and my shoulders spiked my arousal even further.

My dick was so hard that it was beginning to be painful.

Min knew how to guide me only with her feet (or maybe she was still talking but I couldn’t hear her?): if she applied more pressure on the back of my head, I knew that I had to go deeper with my tongue inside her pussy; if she increased the rhythm of her rubbing against my skin, I had to increase the rhythm of my licking. When my tongue found her clit and started flickering it, I could feel her toes curling and pinching my skin, approvingly.

I was the happiest slave on earth, licking her pussy and savoring every little touch of her feet.

Then, Min pushed me away with her feet, which she then used to grab my waist and make me stand up in front of her.

I almost ed out in shock as she placed her divine feet around my dick and began rubbing it with them. Her soles were as soft and terse as silk, and they clenched around my cock like a tight pussy. I had to close my eyes to absorb the mind-wrecking waves of pleasure that struck me with each new thrust of her feet.

“This is your reward for being a good slave. You’ve waited for so long for this, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have”

“You craved this with all your heart, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did”

“You would do anything in the world to feel these sensations again, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would!”, I said, as Min increased ever so slightly the pace of her movements.

“Anything?”

“Anything!”

“Absolutely anything?”

“Yes!!!”, I cried out, as I sensed that I was getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Good boy, good, good boy. You can fuck me know, but you will be allowed to cum when you make me cum”.

And in saying that, she took her feet away from my dick and opened her legs wide, offering me her pussy, already wet with my saliva and her juices.

“Fuck me, slave, and give yourself completely to me”

My full body was trembling with desire and anticipation as I stepped forward and placed the tip of my member on Min’s wet folds. The buzzing in my ears and the swirls in my head increased even further when I slowly, gradually entered her pussy, feeling its warmth and wetness engulf me. And it when she placed her feet on my face, allowing me to kiss them, smell them, lick them as I fucked her, the whole world just dissolved around me.

I was lost in the sensations of total bliss and submission. The tightness of Min’s pussy around my cock, as I went deep inside of her, and then back out again. The sweet subtle scent of her moist soles on my nostrils. The intoxicating taste of her toes inside my mouth. Min’s voice resonating in my ears (“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine”) every time I thrusted into her.

Wave after wave of pleasure was shocking my body and my mind. It was almost unbearable. Any trace of rational thought or independent decision-making was gone: I was just a being that existed to obey Min and adore her gorgeous feet.

“I’m yours”, I echoed with my mouth against her soles. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!!!”

I kept pushing deeper and deeper, faster and faster, surrendering my will and my soul to her, dying to release my excruciating arousal but at the same time wishing to be able to lick her soles, suck her toes and bite her heels for as long as possible.

Min’s pussy seemed to grab my dick and guide it inside her, milking it with her inner walls. My mind was filled with images of Min’s feet, with her sweet scent and the mesmerizing sparkles of sweat in the skin of her soles.

I could have died happy like that, with her feet firmly pressed against my face, fucking her to exhaustion.

Fortunately, she didn’t take it that far.

“You’re mine, you’re mine”, she repeated”, you are, oh, god, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming, cum for me, my slave, cum, cum, cum!”

Orgasm hit me so hard that I started shaking uncontrollably, my dick still firmly lodged inside Min’s pussy and my hands grabbing her feet and pressing them even harder against my face. I spurted my seed inside of her, groaning, squirming, as my last remaining braincells were imprinted with complete devotion to my foot goddess.

Once I finished pleasuring her, and getting pleasure from her myself, I just collapsed on the floor like a puppet whose strings suddenly get cut. I was panting, my eyes were filled with flashes of sparkling lights, my ears would not stop buzzing and ringing.

She had completely broken me, and I could not be happier about it.

“Why... why?”, was the only thing I was able to muster as I lay there, and as she gently and playfully caressed my belly and my chest with her feet.

“Why, you ask? Do you really want to know? Aren’t you just happy that it happened?”, she replied, with a chuckle.

I managed to move my head up and down a notch, nodding to her.

“Well, if you are asking why I did it, there are two main reasons. The first one is that I am being paid by the government -well, by a government anyway- to investigate whether it is possible to induce and the exploit certain fetishes and appetites. And the second reason is, well, that I like it: who wouldn’t want to have a devoted sexual slave ready to fulfill all their needs and wishes?”

My dizzy brain was trying hard to comprehend her words, still trapped in her foot-induced daze.

“And if what you are asking is ‘why me’”, she continued”, then my answer is: honey, I didn’t choose you, you chose me. During the first weeks of the semester, I circulated around different classes and groups of students, performing my hypnotic techniques and assessing the results, and you were by far the most suggestible. You fell into my trap right in the first week! My guess is that you are an already deeply submissive person, and you were just waiting for the right person to dominate you and take complete control over you... But that doesn’t matter much now, does it?”

Her toes kept tracing circles and lines on my belly and chest, keeping me in a state of half-consciousness.

“Now... now what?”, I mumbled as I closed my eyes to savor the sensations her feet were still causing in my body.

“Now I am going to give you a break. I am going to leave you continue with your course, I will disappear from your classes, and you will be able to concentrate on them again. You will no longer crave my feet so much, and you will partially regain your previous life. You will still masturbate thinking about me once a week, and you will have the most powerful orgasm that you can bear without fainting, just like the one I gave to you now. Apart from that, I will call you from time to time, and I will say the phrase “submissive foot slave” and you will go back to this state of mindless trance. Then we will meet for another foot worship session to deepen your submission and devotion to my feet. Is this clear?”

“Yes... my foot goddess...”

“Mmmmh, foot goddess! I like that!”

And after saying that she took her feet away from me, stood up, rearranged her clothes to cover the mess between her legs, and walked towards the door.

“You can sleep now, my pet. I will be seeing you soon”

And as those words touched my ears, and as the door closed behind Min, complete darkness engulfed me, and I fell into a deep dark sleep filled with dreams about my divine foot goddess.