The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

What a beautiful world it can be, when a gorgeous lover utters words that are a green light voluntarily given—as far as she knew—for more experimentation with sexual immersion therapy.

Dee rubbed fresh oil all over her breasts before we had her lie straight on her back upon the bed, completely naked but for a corner of the sheet warming her belly. I put on a shirt, unbuttoned, as a minuscule nod towards propriety, but I was otherwise naked with no apologies that my cock was as straight as a spear-gun while my voice took Dee into the depths of her mind and body.

In structure, this hypnotic session was a complete reversal from the previous one, in that I began by going hard at Dee’s fear of flying. I was more creative this time, thinking that she would have less room to fret about flying and landing if she were consumed by thoughts about the incredible sex we were having. Why not make it so she kept replaying scenes from our sex together, as she waited to board the plane? Why not make it so visions of my hard cock pumping away inside her greased cleavage-canyon plagued her all the time the plane was in flight? The air in the cabin all around her might smell like pussy, but there were no rules or laws against that. Maybe she’d wiggle in her seat or need to go to the lavatory to bring herself off, whatever. Maybe the enger seated next to her would want to move, or it could be that they’d tell stories about the olfactory flight of their life, sitting net to the gorgeous tit-babe who looked and smelled like porn.

Any of those or a dozen other possibilities were better than Dee being terrified by thoughts of crashing and burning, right?

I worked at all of that before pivoting to sex in the here and now. With a woman like Dee was now, eager to have super-intense sex with me while being repeatedly hypnotized, it seemed that plain and simple magnification was the direction to go in. She loved to flaunt the size and beauty of her tits? Let’s go with even more of that, absurdly more. She got hot when I complimented her on her looks, especially her tits? We could dial that up, too.

I really poured it on, tying the need to her tits to her need to get more and more of my cock. Between now and the time she got on that airplane, showing off her tits and tit-fucking Michael’s aching penis would be the twin focuses of her life. She could even feel like causing Michael’s cock to squirt was a humanitarian act, something like feeding a starving child or rescuing a lost puppy. Best of all, she would be rewarded with mind-wrenching body-convulsing orgasms every time she tit-fucked me and I played with her insanely sensitive nipples. When Michael’s hard penis was between her tits, her nipples and her clitoris were one network of super-intense energy, delivering ever-escalating orgasmic bliss.

And then my favorite—being hypnotized was sexy beyond belief, but there was nothing she found more erotic than coming out of hypnosis with my hard cock already positioned between her boobs. This mixing of hypnotism and erotic fulfillment was a t fetish between us, my brand-new fetish and also hers. It was like the carnal equivalent of all fairy tale moments when the sleeping princess is awakened by a kiss, a magical experience that would heighten our t pleasure to levels that no one else could even dream of, nor understand. There were many wonders in this world, but none more exciting than to emerge out of the immersion state with Michael’s huge cock being the very first thing she saw, already going at her tits.

I loved those elements of fairy-tale language, designed to by the rational mind. It would be like we had pixie dust charging the air when I tit-fucked her back to consciousness, her orgasmic juices turned into a magic elixir.

Having a sudden inspiration to blend everything into one unified soup, I put it into Dee that getting my semen on her skin and inside her mouth was like a miracle cure for her fear of flying. She needed to be calm on a plane, and beforehand in the terminal? Well wonder of wonders, absorbing my cum into her system, whether rubbing it into her flesh or swallowing it when she sucked me off, was anti-fear-of-flying medicine, and the more of it she had in or on her body when she got on her flight, the better it would go.

My heart raced and my rigid cock ached its approval of what I had just come to—I was tying having sex with me to the curing of a psychological ailment that produced physiological symptoms—the trembling and perspiring and elevated pulse, etc., of fear or even terror. There had to be hundreds of ways I could take that simple premise—Michael’s cum is the cure—and bend it to meet the peculiarities of different women. Everyone alive is prone to some degree of magical thinking; we all want to believe in miracle cures. Fucking me was never going to be a cure for the common cold or a host of diseases or serious conditions, but people spent billions of dollars every year seeking relief from countless lesser physical and mental discomforts. Or what about the cosmetics industry, or vitamin supplements? Why not turn any of that into a simple carnal equation: Whatever ails you, whatever improvements you desire, Michael’s cum is the special tonic you need, and you can have the best sex of your life while getting it.

This was another breakthrough and the energy boiling inside my balls knew it. “Spunk therapy,” I very quietly whispered, removing my shirt and carefully straddling Dee’s prone torso as she lay unaware on the bed. Thank God I had been gifted this woman to experiment with to this degree. I felt like the tree of sexual immersion therapy was growing thousands of new branches, in fast motion.

Just aching with it, I applied a copious amount of her oil to myself and kept my weight off of her so as not to jar her prematurely from the special state, and gently placed my cock at her sternum. On her back as she was, with no side pressure, her breasts were too spread out to form a deep line of cleavage, but that would come soon enough. For now, I slowly glided the first few inches in the space between her breasts, occasionally moving at an angle so there was more with tit-meat. I spoke as I moved, instructing that with every forward stroke of my cock, she would become a little more aware of her surroundings. With every retreating stroke, she would grow even more horny.

I used my left hand to gently push her right breast inward, creating significantly more friction. The first visible change in Dee’s awareness might have involved her eyelashes, but then little gasps escaped her mouth as I glided her further towards wakefulness. It had to be one of the hottest things I had ever seen, her eyes fluttering open and almost immediately working to focus upon my moving dick. Her lips opened as if in question, but then realization brightened her face and her hands came into play, pressing the sides of her tits to make fleshy mountains around me.

“Oh yes!” were her first intelligible words, followed by whole body-shivers, and, “Do it harder!”

I did it harder, shifting my weight to free my hands, rubbing and pulling at her nipples. The compression of her boobs around me intensified, her hands pressing harder, and I twisted her nipples more forcefully.

She gasped and made unintelligible sounds that I took as instruction to be even more aggressive with her nipples. I complied and watched as her mouth became a wrenched wide-open smile, her head flipping from side to side. She seemed to be caught between bliss and anguish, or some new place where the two were the same.

I said, “I love your tits, I just love them! Fuck my aching cock with your perfect rack, fuck it, fuck it!” and the words had their effect, causing Dee to groan.

She made a change, harnessing her boobs with her arms and making them heave up and down my length. I matched thrusts to the rapid rising and falling of her tit-meat all upon me, both of us going so fast, so energetically…

This time I was spurting first, all over her neck and chin and forehead, just seconds before Dee went completely still for perhaps a full second, and then screamed her lungs out, the jerking of her body so violent that it threw me sideways.

Tossed onto my side, I lay beside her trying to catch my breath, the mattress quivering as she continued to shake. Her legs went up in the air before slamming down, her back arching and neck muscles taut. The smooth skin of her tits looked sunburned, like the UV rays she shunned had finally found a way to beam from within.

Eventually there was some subsiding, but even then it was like there were smaller storms that kept rolling through the landscape of her body. When her gasping breaths finally subsided, she lay upon her back with eyes wide open, her hands finding pools of cum in various places. Absently, she massaged that into her skin in slow circular motions.

I felt like I could barely move, but I could smile at watching Dee unknowingly cure herself of her fear of flying. As she did this, a question that I could not answer from any past experience arose in me—if my cum had become the cure for her flying phobia, how many times was it anatomically possible for my cock to spurt before she flew away?

I knew I would find out, as we gradually fell asleep holding tightly to one another. I had a hand resting upon one of Dee’s tits, and it might have been that that spurred another memorable dream, where that curvature of her body became a crescent moon in the sky. Perhaps my hand really did glide over the surface of Dee’s breast as I slept, whereas in my dream it was the palm of my hand, grown celestially huge, caressing the surface of the moon. I felt a sense of intense longing in the dream, with my dream-moon’s surface not cratered or jagged, and not cold and lifeless. Instead, it pulsed with heat and energy, and being in with it was turning me on.

I opened my eyes with the sense of a fair amount of time having ed, and though it was probably only two or three a.m., I had morning wood. Dee stirred and let out an audible moan when she felt my erection pressing into her butt.

“Again?” she whispered. But a few seconds after that changed to, “Again!”, and her hand reached to the bedside table for the oil.

There was no need to discuss what we were going to do, or how we’d go about it. Dee stretched out on her back and I took the oil, squeezing out more than ever, making zig-zagging lines on her breasts like they were twin birthday cakes in need of decoration. I brought my hands in play and paid special attention to her nipples, amassing lotion there with my palms, fingertips climbing the jutting shapes and pinching, making her groan. After applying more oil to my cock, I knelt at her feet. She closed her eyes and I turned my voice into a musical instrument that played nothing but immersion songs, and in record time I had Dee’s subconscious mind and her body’s rhythms open to me.

Like any self-respecting mad scientist, I wanted my living creation to reach her highest potential. I didn’t need to push her into coming even harder or wanting my cock even more, so I went harder at her fear of flying, driving home that her phobia was a thing of the past, a discarded remnant of the old Dee, the Dee who’d only been capable of pitiful pop-gun climaxes, the Dee who’d had no idea there was a fucking phoenix of sexual power within her.

“Sex with Michael has transformed you, Dee. You knew you looked like a sex-bomb and now you are one. While doing completely ordinary things like cooking breakfast, or watching a movie, or sitting in the seat of an airplane, you will know how sexy you look and feel, and just how sexually potent you are. There is a sense of well-being that comes from this, a confidence that comes from being one of the most sexually potent women alive, able to feel pleasure and give pleasure like no one else you know.

Michael is like you in this way, and then some. You could never say this to anyone, but deep down in your sexual core you recognize that Michael’s cock is actually a magic wand. It makes you climax like no other cock could, and it spurts semen that, once enough has been rubbed into your skin, makes your old fear of flying simply vanish. Sex with Michael is a cure. Sex with Michael makes you a better actress. Sex with Michael is the best thing to ever happen to you.”

I wondered—was all that magical-thinking stuff a bridge too far? Possibly, but what would be the harm? Also, I liked how I was throwing the kitchen sink at her flying fears. I’d gone at the problem several different ways, and if one approach failed, there were others that would likely succeed.

Ready to bring her back for more conscious fucking, I got in position and laid my huge member right on her sternum again. There was so much oil there that I could probably give myself a breastbone-job, but of course I wanted her fabulous tits.

Dee emerged back into consciousness much like before, although there was a different glint in her eyes, like her sense of purpose had been fortified. She compressed her gleaming boobs with her hands and we found a patient rhythm, the head of my cock popping in and out of sight as I thrust inside the slick-soft canyon walls she made. I didn’t play with her nipples at first; I could tell my balls needed time to simmer and build, and I loved being able to watch the movements of Dee’s tits as they quaked. She locked her gaze to mine, fully awake, and it was almost like I could peer in and see all the bombs buried in her psyche, designed to explode with wet orgasmic force.

Ready to set them off, I grabbed hold of her nipples and rolled them, and I praised her tits, telling her that I couldn’t get enough of them, that they were so big and so beautiful and that I would always get hard for them. My words were like cause and effect that made her eyebrows shift, and also her mouth. It was like she no longer had any choice as to how far her mouth opened, or where her eyes went. She seemed to be looking straight over my head but I believed she wasn’t really seeing much of anything; it was a kind of inner vision that had switched on, with all of her senses needing to process the miracle that was happening inside her body.

“How can…”

Playing with and fucking her tits like this make her feel like the very existence of her nipples and clitoris was about to undo her?

“Oh my…”

Oh my god? Oh Michael, what have you done to me?

Her eyelids fluttered, and did she know that she was exhaling sharp animal grunts? Could she smell how the air had become even more pungent with her need? Could she feel, right there on the flesh turning me into the sausage meat inside a tit-fuck sandwich, how witnessing the fruits of my hypnotism gave my hard-on a hard-on? It felt to me like I just kept growing larger and harder, like I needed extra space between every cell to fuel a blast-off that was worthy of the ones she was experiencing.

I made an adjustment to the positioning of my hands so my fingers continued to work her nipples while my palms received the smacking of her tit-flesh, like boob-waves crashing against a sea wall. The sight of it, the feel and sound…

That did it for me, and in the wrenching spurting I wasn’t even sure if I was the one to come first, or if Dee was right there with me. I pretty much collapsed onto her and felt her convulsions rippling right through me, her body shaking and jerking in ways that simply hadn’t happened when she’d had “normal” orgasms. I logically knew that it couldn’t be true, but it felt to me like I had unloaded a fucking gallon of cum onto her neck and chin and face, tons more curative tonic for her flying fears.

Eventually there was stillness that continued for a very long time, our bodies landing back on earth after soaring through the carnalsphere. Dee was still flat on her back, her hands silently and purposefully massaging my cum into her flesh. Her apartment had central air and I could hear it venting on for a few minutes, then quieting once again. At some point there was a distant siren, and the air-horn of a firetruck.

The next sound was close, Dee’s voice a touch raspy from all her orgasmic vocalizations.

“What on earth are we discovering together?”

I answered in the privacy of my mind: The vast power of sexual immersion therapy.

“Sex was never anything like this before,” Dee said, our bodies entwined on her bed. “I’m not even sure if I’m the same woman I was before we met.”

Curious, I asked her how she saw herself now as compared to before.

“I knew I looked great. I have the eyes and mouth and jawline for the profession, even if I might be too curvy for my own good. My agent would pump me up, saying over and over that I was a serious actress with serious talent, but also born to play sex-kitten roles, and that we just had to be patient for the right one to come our way. But I didn’t feel like a sex kitten, not until now. Now, maybe more like a sex goddess. I don’t even think I could tell anyone about any of this, because they wouldn’t believe it.”

I almost wanted to thank her for that reminder. The next time I had her in the special state, I’d make sure that the telling-others-about-this door was completely closed.

She let out a long sex-cat sigh. “Did you ever imagine that your hypnotism technique could lead to us having the best sex on the entire planet?”

Of course I did. “No. It’s even kind of funny—we started this to get rid of your fear of flying, and look where we’ve ended up.”

“I can’t be sure until it happens, but I don’t think I’ll have any problem on my flight. Like, there isn’t even any room for fear, or… I’ve changed. I’m stronger now, and…”

She didn’t finish, and I wanted to know. “And what?”

“Sexier. I’m more erotically awake.” She laughed. “That space-alien role I had in the indie movie? Omigod, if I could play that role now… I feel like I could exude so much sex-appeal that the camera lenses would fog up.”

I got her to tell me more, about how she had never known that she could come with such force, and how she would never have believed that nipple stimulation alone could send her over the edge. Add to that her newly installed fetish for mixing hypnotism with sex, and she even divulged, shyly, that she had this fantasy that rubbing my cum into her skin was like building up a talisman in her body, that made her resolute and strong.

I laughed at that last one, as if her imagination was going a step too far. But in the little silences between us that gradually grew into Dee falling asleep, I again wondered what other phobias or issues I could cure with beautiful women, by convincing them that my cum was like a magical potion from the world of stories and myths.

Or hell, why not just cut to the chase by making my cum outright addictive? I was having nothing but success with regular clients when it came to curing them of abusing different substances—it should be within my power to do the reverse. In my head I heard my own pornographic version of a voice-over for an old potato chip commercial—Bet you can’t suck me off just once.

Dee continued to sleep peacefully, and much like I had done that night at the beach with her, my thoughts went hither and thither about how I would fit immersion hypnosis, and Dee, into the fabric of my life.

When I had begun to misuse my newfound skill, I hadn’t come close to understanding how potent it was. Even just a couple of weeks ago, what I had been doing with Dee this night would have seemed impossible. Now I understood how I could insert the equivalent of enduring magical tendrils inside a woman, that branched all through her brain and physiology. It was almost like installing and empowering a new sexual circulatory system that I could control at will, speeding it up or slowing it down. Hell, if I wanted to I could probably dial it to fucking fifty and just sit back to watch the fireworks go off.

I was never going to get over mixing this newfound ability with sex, was I? After what I’d just experienced, it was ludicrous to believe that I would ever draw an imable line in behavioral sands, forswearing the bending of a lover’s behaviors and capacities. All it took was a single bite from the immersion apple; once I had a woman in the special state, I could shape her so she would need to keep biting, and in doing so I could keep shaping. I could see to it that no woman I hypnotized, and fucked, could be entirely over me, no matter what happened. I had the power to turn the rules of relationship into whatever I decided they should be.

I smiled into the darkness of Dee’s bedroom. If hypnotic triggers could last for months or years—and I believed they could—I could let her fly away and see what fate had in store for her. She might return soon or move permanently… But if the latter, I could make it so she would be like a former lover that I kept in my back pocket, my huge-titted retrievable lover that I could take out and rub and make all shiny again.

Would I miss her and what we were finding together? Yes, I would. But I was also abuzz with anticipation, knowing that I’d soon be fucking Mira Cassidy to my dick’s content.