The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

As the caterers clear the dinner plates, we four move to the living room for Giselle’s hypnotism session. My palms are sweaty and I’m probably trembling like a leaf! What the fuck am I doing??? I haven’t done hypnosis in, like, three months, and I’ve got nothing prepared. Zero. Zip. Nada. You gotta understand, to successfully hypnotize someone, you hafta prep. You must appear superconfident at all times. Otherwise, your subject will sense your nervousness, and then its all over. They won’t go into the hypnotic state.

Giselle crosses to one of the leather easy chairs. I can’t help but stare at her tight little butt in those skintight yoga pants…

“Can I sit here?” Giselle asks me, pointing to a chair.

“Uh, yeah,” I reply, praying that my voice sounds confident. “Right there is fine.”

“Seriously, are we really doing this?” Dante asks. He’s nervous. “I mean… dude, that’s my wife!” He half-laughs. “You can’t take over her brain. No way.”

“You’ll observe the whole thing,” I tell Dante. “Listen: I’ll just walk Giselle down into a nice, relaxed mental state, do some simple imagination exercises with her, then give her suggestions for the full spirit/body/mind interjunction. A walk in the park.”

Tracey eyes Giselle, who has sat down and is now fussing over her little babydoll tee shirt.

“Howie, just don’t do anything… sexy… with her,” my wife warns me.

“Yeah!” Giselle agrees. “No making me becoming a stripper. Or a chicken.” She flashes those brilliant blue eyes. “I just want that super mental calm I’ve heard about.”

“Yeah, of course,” I promise, holding up both hands. “Nothing sexy, nothing embarrassing. I want you to have a good experience.”

That’s enough for my breathtakingly gorgeous subject. “Okay, then,” she says permissively. “I’m ready.”

Tracey and Dante watch me with obvious skepticism. Ignoring them as much as I can, I turn my focus entirely onto Giselle. “Feet flat on the floor, please,” I tell her. “Palms in your lap. Shoulders square. Head back. Mouth closed, breathing through your nostrils. That’s it.”

Giselle follows my instructions perfectly. Awesome.

“Now,” I say, “look into my eyes…”

Somehow, I every word of my hypnosis induction script without a screw-up or Freudian slip. I talk continuously, speaking to Giselle’s subconscious mind, coaxing her to let go and relax herself into an obedient ivity. My voice becomes soft and flowing, washing over her like warm water. She responds.

“And soon,” I tell the beautiful young woman, “you’ll find that your eyelids are becoming so heavy, they won’t want to stay open. Each time you blink, they become twice as heavier. You want to close them, to sleep…”

Giselle is blinking slowly, and I can tell that she’s having trouble maintaining eye . Her lovely face is expressionless, and her red lips have parted, just slightly. I pour on the submissive suggestions.

“Before you know it,” I coo, “you will be deep asleep, without a care or worry at all, experiencing the best spirit/body/mind interjunction you will ever know. You will sleep. You want to sleep. You cannot resist sleep. Sleep now, sleep now…”

Giselle’s eyes fall closed, and she does not reopen them.

Now, my confidence surges! I’ve got her.

I guide Giselle down even more deeply, carefully stripping away her conscious mind’s defenses. I give her subtle, subliminal tests, all of which she es without hesitation or awareness. I slather on the instructions to let her mind go blank and trust in me completely. I tell her that she will have no awareness of what she is doing or who she is, once she is completely under my spell.

Giselle accepts it all. She really wants to be hypnotized.

After ten minutes, the gorgeous yoga princess is motionless, her head slouched, her arms loose and flopped at her sides. Her breasts push against her baby tee in a slow, regular rhythm—her breathing has become deep and measured. She seems to be aware of nothing… but I know better.

I pause to sip my water, then smile at Tracey and Dante.

My host looks spooked. “Is she…?” Dante asks.

“Yeah,” I rasp. “Giselle is hypnotized. Deeply hypnotized. She’s aware of us right now, but she’s so out of it, she doesn’t care about anything.” I smile and sip another gulp of water. “She’ll accept my suggestions.”

Looking suspicious, Tracey says, “Prove it.”

Fair enough.

“Giselle, in a moment I’ll snap my fingers,” I tell the hypnotized young woman. “When I do, you’ll awaken completely, ing nothing. What you’ll also discover is that… you can also no longer your own name. Your name is gone from your mind. Even if you hear your name aloud, you will not be able to it. Your name is gone from your mind. Awaken, now!”

I snap loudly, twice.

Giselle sits up, absently blinking. She dabs her eyes once, then notices Dante and Tracey, who are gaping at her.

“What?” Giselle demands.

“Nothing, babe,” says Dante.

“Are you ready to be hypnotized?” I ask Giselle. “We can start at any time.”

“Yeah, I’m psyched,” the young woman replies earnestly. “How do I sit? Like this? In my yoga class, the hypnosis lady had her hypno-people standing at the front of the studio and—“

“You’re fine,” I assure her. “Ah, before we begin: Tell me, what is your name, again?”

Giselle opens her mouth, then blinks in astonishment. “I’m…” she says helplessly.

There’s a moment of silence as Giselle racks her brains, and comes up empty. “Uh…” she mumbles helplessly.

Now Tracey and Dante are staring in amazement. “Babe,” Dante tells her, “you know your own name!”

“Yeah, I do!” agrees Giselle. “Its…” Her brow creases. “…um…”

“What is your name, Giselle?” I ask pointedly. “Giselle, what is your name? Eh? You can tell us, Giselle.”

“Yeah, one sec…” The young woman pouts for a little, staring at the ceiling. “Its…”

“Look at me,” I command firmly. “When I snap my fingers, you are utterly convinced that your name is Taylor Swift.”

I snap, twice.

“I’m Taylorswift!” Giselle cries out, with something like relief on her gorgeous face. “Yeah. I knew I knew it! Taylorswift.”

Tracey and Dante exchange a bewildered look. “You mean, you’re the blonde singer with all the albums—“ Tracey begins to ask.

But Giselle impatiently cuts her off. “No, no, no, that’s that other Taylor Swift chick. She’s got my name and she does her thing, and that’s fine. But I’m totally Taylorswift.” She frowns. “You want to see my driver’s license? It totally says ‘Taylorswift’.”

Amazed, Tracey replies, “…yeah. Yeah, I wanna see it.”

Looking somewhat offended, Giselle hops out of her easy chair. She strides from the living room… and I can’t help but stare at her two tight little buttocks, flexing away under those yoga pants. That girl has a spectacular ass. She disappears into her bedroom.

“Oh my God!” Tracey exclaims, looking at me with newfound respect. “What the fuck?”

“Giselle is hypnotized,” I say plainly. “She’s her usual self, except that she actually believes her name is Taylor Swift right now. What’s more—“

Giselle returns, carrying a leopard skin wallet in her small hands. She flips it open, then presents it to Tracey and Dante.

“See?” Giselle says firmly. “My license. See there? Taylorswift. That’s me.”

I crane my neck. That’s Giselle’s New York State license alright, with GISELLE LAMONT printed in the name’s position. Of course, Giselle’s ID photo is gorgeous.

“Oh my God,” cracks up Tracey. Dante stifles a guffaw or two.

“What?” Giselle demands. “You guys can’t read?”

“We totally believe you,” I assure my hypnotized subject. “Say, sit back down, willya?”

Giselle does as I request, laying the wallet on the side table.

“Sleep!” I command her, waving a hand before Giselle’s face. Instantly, she’s out, flopping in the easy chair like a rag doll.

We have a lot of fun with Giselle, just doing silly stage hypnosis bits. Before I went clinical, I thought about going for a stage career, but it just never happened. But I most of the stuff stage guys put their volunteers through.

Under my influence, Giselle comes to believe that she’s a professional cowgirl. She proudly tells us how she rides a horse, ropes cattle, shoots rifles, and camps out under the stars. She peppers her speech with a lot of corny-sounding “y’all’s” and “reckons” and “howdy do’s!” She also demonstrates how to swagger, which is unexpectedly hilarious.

Then, after putting her back into a deep sleep, I reprogram Giselle into believing she is a NASA astronaut. She wakes up, becoming a completely different person. Now—as Tracey, Dante, and I struggle to keep a straight face—Giselle patiently explains to us how the space shuttle works, how she uses the Apollo rockets to commute to NASA’s moon base, and how she’s explored other planets. “Mars is so… icky,” she tells us with absolutely authority. “But Jupiter is super awesome. There’s great people living on Jupiter.”

Another trance session later, and I’ve got Giselle absolutely convinced that she’s the world’s toughest professional wrestler. She curls her lips at us and sneers when we ask her about her career, then launches into a long boast about all the other pro wrestlers she’s taken down. “Oh, I totally slammed Devon the Destroyer,” Giselle proclaims, her voice deep and husky. “And I annihilated Arnie the Annihilator. And I smashed Ivan the Invincible. Yeah. I royally slapped down all those bitches.” She flexes her biceps at us in an intimidation display.

As entertainment, this is top-notch. Tracey, Dante, and I sort of forget ourselves as Giselle becomes our toy.

“Now make her think that she’s Miss America!” Tracey urges me. She points at Giselle, who is currently sleeping in a deep trance and completely still. “Make her think she’s won the Miss America crown!”

“No,” says Dante, a sly look crossing his face. “No, make her do something sexy. Yeah.”

I frown a little. “I thought we weren’t—“

“It’s cool,” Dante assures me. “Giselle, she’s a wildcat in the bedroom. She’s also a bit of an exhibitionist. She likes being sexy.” He leans back, crossing one leg over the other. “So let her do something sexy.”

“Dants…” Tracey says with a warning tone.

“What? Its what Giselle would want to do.”

I weigh my options. My sense is that, yeah, Dante’s right. If I commanded Giselle to dance like a flygirl or even skip off to the bedroom to change into skimpy lingerie, she’d probably do it. Giselle does have an attention-seeking personality, and she’s in a really, really deep trance. She’d obey those suggestions.

But I want to save those cards for another game. And I can’t let Tracey get suspicious. So, instead, I say:

“Ah, Giselle said she didn’t want to do sexy stuff. So then—“

“Aw, c’mon,” snarls Dante. He uncrosses/recrosses his legs. “Make her do a little something sexy, eh? Let’s do some sexy stuff. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Fine. I can thread this needle.

Sighing a little, I tell my hypnotized subject, “Giselle, for tonight and tonight only, any time you hear the first name of your husband, you will stop what you’re doing and give him a big, wet kiss. This will feel normal and natural and you won’t be able to stop yourself. Every time you hear the name ‘Dante,’ you will immediately kiss your husband.”

“Good enough,” grunts Dante.

Its time to wrap things up. The hour’s late, and I can’t let Giselle stay in deep hypnosis much longer… not if I want my Phase Two to work.

“And now, Giselle,” I command, “I’ll count up from one to ten. Upon the count of ten, you’ll completely come out of hypnosis, relaxed and recharged and feeling great about yourself. What’s more, come tomorrow and every day after, you’ll experience the best spirit/body/mind interjunction you’ve ever known in your life! When you do your yoga routines, you’ll find that your mind and body are in such sympatico, there is no limit to what you can do! From this day forward, you have the best spirit/body/mind interjunction possible.”

I reenforce those commands a little more, then slowly count Giselle awake. Only when I reach the last number, does she sit up, rubbing her face. Then she stretches like a cat.

“Okay, then,” Giselle says happily. “I feel great. So great!” She beams.

“You were wonderful,” I tell her.

The young woman beams even more. She actually hugs herself.

This is not an uncommon reaction among people who’ve experienced a deep hypnotic trance. When you’re under really, really deep, your body is so relaxed, it feels like you were pampered rotten at the world’s finest spa.

My wife is watching Giselle closely. “I think you were amazing,” Tracey tells the other woman. “Don’t you also think so… Dante?”

At the name of her husband, Giselle’s expression goes blank. She jumps out of her chair, then quickly sits on Dante’s lap. With an aroused look on her beautiful face, she leans forward, slips her arms around her husband’s neck, and plants her breasts against his chest. Her lips part, and her mouth finds his. Dante and Giselle kiss.

At first, it’s a sweet, romantic kiss. But then, Giselle moans with longing, and the kiss deepens. She and Dante are now doing open-mouthed, full tongue, God-I-Want-You French kissing. The air is lustful, heavy with desire. Neither husband nor wife seem aware of anything but one another. Giselle moans again.

I’m feeling uncomfortable. Jesus, Tracey’s never smooched me like this.

Eventually, Giselle breaks the kiss.

“Dante!” Dante says immediately.

Once again, the hypnosis-controlled young woman attacks his mouth, making an even more of a porn show this time. I’m getting seriously hard as I watch them go at it.

In her chair, I sense Tracey cross her arms. She doesn’t approve of any of this.

But my wife and I have the good sense to let the kiss happen. Eventually, Dante and Giselle break the lip-lock and come up for air.

As Dante goes slightly cross-eyed, Giselle twists about on his lap and smiles excitedly.

“So then,” the gorgeous young woman asks me, “…are you, like, gonna hypnotize me, or what?”

Two hours later, everybody’s retreated to our respective bedrooms for the night. This cabin has two large bedrooms, and the only way it isn’t a deluxe rental is that both bedrooms must share one master bathroom. Right now, Tracey and I are waiting for Dante to finish his business.

Tracey is oddly quiet as she undresses for the night. I watch her as she unclips her bra. My wife has really nice breasts…

“That hypnosis stuff,” Tracey says suddenly, “you couldn’t do it on me. Could you?”

“Huh?” I say.

Tracey shoots me a disappointed glance, then reaches for her pajama top. “You couldn’t hypnotize me. Right, Howie?”

“Of course I could,” I tell her. Then, slyly, I add, “I’d like to, maybe for our next adventure…”

By which, I mean our next sexplay session.

“Ah, no,” my wife says quickly. She yanks on her top, covering up. “There will be no hypnotized Tracey sucking the cock of Howie the Hypnotist.”

“But why not?” I say playfully. “Might be hot. I could hypnotize you to experience the greatest orgasms—“

“No!” Tracey says forcefully.

I drop the subject.

The next morning, I oversleep a little. When I wake, I smell bacon and coffee, and then hear dishes softly clinking in the kitchen. I realize that I’m missing breakfast! So I pull on a robe and slippers, then pad out to the others.

Tracey and Dante are having waffles with the bacon and java. They’re locked into yet another conversation about Wall Street stuff, and neither of them bothers to greet me as I sit down.

“…but only if Gordon raises the asking price to one-eighty-five,” Tracey insists, jabbing the air with the butter knife.

“No way Gordon will go that high,” scoffs Dante. “He doesn’t have the balls.”

“One-seventy, then.” Tracey makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “Gordon’s a stupid dickhead.”

“True ’dat,” agrees Dante. He pours the syrup.

I survey the table, realizing that no-one left any waffles for me.

“…there any cereal?” I ask glumly.

“Pantry,” is Dante’s gruff reply.

I look around. “Where’s Giselle?” I ask innocently.

But at this, my wife gives me a bitter look. “She got up before all of us,” she says tartly. Then she gestures.

Oh! Now I see Giselle. She’s out on the sun deck, on her yoga mat, effortlessly bending into the downward-facing dog position.

Jesus Christ. My eyes almost pop. Giselle is wearing tiny yoga shorts and an even tinier sports bra, one that almost qualifies as a bikini top. And nothing else. She’s practically naked out there! The matching shorts and bra are a light pink, and in the bright morning sun, Giselle’s sweating body glows. Beyond her, I can see the deep-blue lake, glittering away with a trillion microscopic sparkles.

As I watch, Giselle flexes and extends one muscular leg straight up, like she’d trying to point her toes toward space. She’s that goddamn flexible. She straightens her spine, lengthens her arms, and her chest bulges against the sports bra. Her brown ponytail flops downward as she embraces this new, impossible position.

God, I didn’t know a human body could contort like that! With both hands and one foot on the ground, but the other foot extending skyward, Giselle looks like an upside-down letter ‘Y’.

“She’s been out there for two hours now,” Tracey says darkly. “Non-stop yoga.”

“That’s unusual for her,” comments Dante. “Normally, Gis just does an hour. But she might be shooting content for her Instagram.”

The Lord of Wall Street turns to ires his wife. Giselle is now doing some crazy Spider-Man handstand with steady, fluid movements.

“I dunno what you did to her, Howie Boy,” Dante says, “but you are welcome to hypnotize my wife anytime.” He offers me a Cheshire Cat grin. “I kept repeating my own name to her last night, and that lead to some… great moments.”

“TMI, Dants,” Tracey tells him.

Dante grins wickedly, then pops a forkful of waffles into his mouth.

I watch Giselle. Its time for my Phase Two.

“Sooooo, Trace…” I say, way-too-casually, “you still think hiking McKenzie Mountain is too much for you? We can do the lower trails.”

At first blush, my comment seems innocent enough. But I know how stupidly competitive both Tracey and Dante can be.

“I can do McKenzie,” Tracey insists.

“Don’t push yourself,” I chide her.

“Yeah, McKenzie’s tough,” nods Dante, as if he knows everything. “I’ve only done it… eh, twice.”

Perfect. The shithead jock set the trap for me. Now all I have to do is-

“I can do McKenzie!” Tracey repeats.

“We don’t have to,” says Dante.

“I can do McKenzie!” Tracey insists a third time, and she’s not backing down. She’s in Competitive Tracey Mode. There’s no arguing with her now.

But Dante’s gotten a chip on his shoulder. “We don’t have to,” he asserts.

“We’re going!” Tracey almost yells.

First chance I get, I dash back to the bedroom. I find my hiking boots, pop open the window, then throw the boots outside. I hear them land behind the shrubs that line the house; I’ll have to retrieve them later.

No less than a minute later, Tracey enters, looking determined. “We’re leaving in ten,” she tells me firmly. “The weather’s perfect.”

“You have everything you need, babe?” I ask her innocently.

Tracey does a quick check, grabbing her own boots. “Canteen, bug spray, sunglasses, hat, phone… yeah. C’mon, Howie, I wanna hit that mountain—“

“Oh,” I fake dismay. “Oh, shit!”

Tracey glares at me. “What is it?”

“Aw man…” I make a show of looking under the bed. “Babe, you know where my hiking boots went?”

Tracey’s expression falls.

Tracey and Dante are so gung-ho to tackle this mountain, you’d think they were preparing to storm a beachhead. Their Type-A personalities are overriding their common sense. I’ve seen it before.

The beautiful thing is, I set all this in motion! You saw that, right? One little innocent comment on my part, preying on Tracey’s insecurities started it all. Honestly, this is where being an expert on the subconscious mind is so useful in life. Tracey and Dante couldn’t be more committed to hiking this mountain if I had hypnotized them to do it.

While those two are rechecking their backpacks, I pretend to be disappointed. I make sure they both see me open my work laptop, then flop onto a living room couch.

“You’ll be fine?” Tracey asks me, without much sympathy.

“Yeah, yeah,” I sigh. “I have some case files I should be updating, anyway. But you have fun, baby.”

Tracey and I exchange a quick, meaningless kiss. Then she and Dante are off, out the front door, already trading juvenile insults as they go. Then I hear the Bentley engine start up. It pulls out of the driveway, then disappears up the road.

Maybe twenty minutes later, the glass door to the deck slides open. Cheerful birdsong floods the living room. I look up as Giselle steps inside.

Holy fucking cow. The young woman is positively floating. She looks so happy. There’s a wide, delighted smile on her lips, and her bare feet don’t seem to touch the floor. She almost skips to the kitchen, humming softly. She has earbuds in, and I realize that she’s still listening to her workout playlist.

I freeze. I keep my head down, as if I’m absorbed in my laptop… but I’m watching Giselle closely.

The goddess of yoga is painted in light sweat. Wearing just that sports bra and tiny yoga shorts, the girl is barely clothed. In the kitchen’s electric lights, her toned body appears to shimmer. Her thick brown hair is a tad disheveled maybe, but still quite attractive. As Giselle moves, I can appreciate her perky little tush as those shorts hug her strong buttocks. She’s swinging her hips a little, dancing to her music.

Giselle busies herself in the kitchen, gathering organic ingredients and stuffing them into a stainless-steel blender. One puree later, and she’s made a thick green smoothie that looks like pea soup mud. I shudder a little as she takes a lustful chug, directly from the blender pitcher itself. Her breasts push against the sports bra as she arches her back.

She sets down the pitcher, licks her lips, then notices me. We’re perhaps twenty feet apart. I can faintly smell her perspiration and floral deodorant.

“Oh, hey!” Giselle says brightly. She pops out her earbuds. “There you are!”

“Here I am,” I reply gamely.

The Object of My Lust laughs to herself, just a little. “Last night,” she chuckles, shaking her head. “I mean, like, I’ve always wanted to get hypnotized… but goddamn!”

I set aside my laptop. “You liked it?”

“It was…” Giselle pauses, taking some time to select the right word. She finally selects “…weird.”

“Well, that’s a common reaction,” I reply lamely.

“I mean…” Giselle makes a careless gesture with her hands. “…it was like I was totally aware of everything, you know? And I understood everything that was happening. But when you told me to do something…” She shakes her head once more. “…it was like, my mind went blank, and I absolutely had to do what you said. I had no control. So weird.”

“Although,” she adds quickly, “you were totally right about that, uh, mind-body spirit/body/mind interjunction thing.”

I rise to my feet. “Let me guess,” I say. “You naturally woke at the break of dawn. No alarm needed. The moment your eyes popped open, your whole body felt supercharged. Like you had a ton of energy. So you immediately went out onto the deck and had the best yoga session of your life.”

Giselle’s eyes widen in agreement. “Yes! Yes, exactly!” proclaims the beautiful young woman. “How did you know?”

“It’s a common effect of hypnosis,” I tell her, walking towards her slowly. “One hour of hypnosis will give you the equal of eight hours of sleep. Plus extra energy. That’s the mind-body spirit/body/mind interjunction in action.”

The more I use the phrase “spirit/body/mind interjunction,” the more Giselle’s gullible mind will believe it’s a real thing. All a part of my plan. I want her to see me as an absolute Master of the Mind.

“So so so cool,” Giselle nods appreciatively. She looks thoughtful. “I’ll have to hire a hypnotist as part of my personal training team, I think. I wanna feel like this always.”

I so want to yell out, “I’ll become your hypnotist!” But I can’t spook the girl. Her subconscious body language tells me that she still trusts me. I have to maintain that trust.

“Well, you’re a natural subject,” I tell Giselle. “You concentrate well, and you go deep into relaxation. Really deep.”

I keep stepping closer. Now Giselle’s just five feet away.

“Okay,” she replies, then shrugs. Her interest is fading. She wants to end this conversation.

I’m close enough to touch her now. “You concentrated so well last night,” I continue, firmly holding her gaze, “that you found yourself just naturally letting your subconscious direct you.”

Giselle blinks back at me. “Yeah?”

“Think about that for a second,” I propose. “Your subconscious mind was so powerful, it allowed your conscious thoughts to go to sleep. You said that while hypnotized, you were aware. And you were aware of everything around you… but in another very real sense, you were unaware of how much I could control you. You were hypnotized, Giselle, and the hypnotic state is an extremely natural one for you. You easily let yourself go, followed my voice, trusted in me…”

The young woman listens without comment.

“Last night really simple, actually,” I say coaxingly. “My voice guided your subconscious, and your subconscious guided you. You allowed yourself to be hypnotized. You allowed yourself to relax, relax so deeply. Deeper and deeper you went. So deeply, it felt good, didn’t it?”

“…yeeeah…” she murmurs.

Giselle and I almost toe-to-toe now. Her large blue eyes fill my own, and I can sense her expression fading.

I’m playing this scene really, really well. Through use of my vocal inflections, some subliminal trigger phrases, and luck, Giselle is keeping her attention riveted upon me. She’s going back into hypnosis, but she doesn’t realize it. I have to keep my concentration…

“You look at me,” I go on, talking in my patter, “look deep into my eyes, and you find yourself relaxing, once more. You can’t resist. You don’t want to resist. You want to gaze into my eyes, and let everything else go. Because it feels so good, to relax, to surrender, to let go, to allow my voice to guide you. You are relaxing. Deeper and deeper…”

Giselle doesn’t respond. She stares back at me, as motionless as a statue, her lovely face blank, her eyelids drooping.

I continue on with the hypnotic dialog, telling her that she is once again under my spell, that she will only do or say or believe what I tell her, and that nothing else matters. That she is again hypnotized, but this time, she is a completely responsive to my will. That nothing else matters, except the sound of my voice and the suggestions I put into her mind. She is at peace, and has no cares nor worries. She will forget everything: her husband, her name, why she and I are here, even who I am. She is completely in my power, once again.

Giselle objects to none of this. Even though her eyes are open, she’s gone under even deeper than last night. She will do whatever I tell her to do.

I’m working without the benefit of water nearby. My voice a little raspy, I command, “And now, Giselle, I will snap my fingers. When I do, your mind will go blank, and you will follow and obey all of my commands without awareness or memory. Become blank… now!”

I snap.

Although my fingers make a loud click, Giselle doesn’t respond at all. She blankly regards me, her arms loose at her sides, her beautiful face utterly dead.

“And now,” I say coolly, “you will take me to your bedroom.”

Giselle turns. She glides toward her bedroom like a sleepwalker. I follow.