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Hypnotic

By: oggbashan



Copyright Oggbashan December 2002 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

*****

"Well, Pearl? Are you still going to the non-smoking sessions?"

My elder sister Ruby was staying that Saturday night on the way down to London for a Management course. She still treated me as her little sister even though I'd been married to Neil for five years. She was an ex-smoker and had been working on me and Neil to give up as well. We had tried various ways but Ruby's disapproval had not helped. She could not give up interfering. Even so, she was my sister and smoking was the only thing about us that she disapproved of. I wasn't her "little" sister except in age. Neither of us could be called "little". I was just slightly taller than her but we were both significantly taller than our husbands even in our bare feet. 

I could talk to Ruby as I could to no one else. We shared secrets that we wouldn't even tell our husbands. Nothing major. There were no skeletons to hide but we would talk about their performance, or lack of it, in bed. I had tried some of Ruby's ideas. She had tried some of mine. Sometimes our ideas startled our husbands but most of them were fun to experiment with.

"Yes, Ruby, but the classes were closed for the summer holidays. They start again next week and then I have a real problem."

"Come on, Sis. Tell!"

Ruby had guessed that I was embarrassed.

"The main idea of the sessions is to practise self-hypnosis whenever we feel we want a cigarette."

"Yes?"

"I can do it. Neil can't."

"So?"

"I can do it to him." I stopped. I didn't want to say the next bit.

"And he doesn't like it?" Ruby was always quick to notice what I didn't say.

"Yes and No. He isn't sure that he likes my ability to hypnotise him yet it has stopped him smoking as well as me. The problem is ..." I stopped again. Even talking to Ruby this was going to be difficult. 

"It seems to me that we need to have a real sisterly talk. Why don't we make a cup of tea?"

"OK Ruby." We walked through to the kitchen. My calf length skirt brushed my legs as I moved, reminding me why I was wearing it. Ruby noticed.

"Pearl, you didn't used to wear skirts around the house."

"I know. That's part of it. Not till we have made the tea. I'll come clean, I promise. I need your advice but please wait a few minutes more."

"OK, but you look better in a skirt than the track suits you used to wear."

We made the tea. Back in the living room I sat next to Ruby on the settee unconsciously arranging my skirt as I did.

"You did that as if you are used to it." Ruby said.

"Did what?"

"Arranged your skirt."

"Did I? I didn't notice."

"Yes, you did. It looks as if you have been wearing skirts, and large ones, for some time. You managed that skirt as if you always wear one."

"I do. I never wear jeans, trousers or slacks, always a skirt. It is part of what I need to talk about."

"Come on, Pearl, talk. You know you can talk to me about anything." 

"You are probably the only one I can talk to about this."

"Now you have me really interested, Pearl."

I took a deep breath and started.

"It started at the non-smoking sessions. One of the ideas is to think of a situation in which you can't or wouldn't smoke. Then whenever you feel like lighting a cigarette you imagine that you are in that situation. Once the urge is passed you can revert to normal."

"Yes, I can follow that, Pearl. What is difficult?"

"Most of the others had simple scenarios such as being in Church, at the office and so on. Neil and I don't go to Church often enough for it to be realistic. We are self-employed and working from home so we can't use the office "rules" and so on. We couldn't think of a common situation that would prevent us smoking. I'm sure we could have if we had given it some more effort but I had what I thought was a brilliant idea for me at least."

"And it wasn't?"

"At first I thought it was, but now I have real problems with it."

"Out with it, Pearl. What is your scenario that is so embarrassing?"

I paused. Then I blurted it out.

"I imagine that I'm pregnant and that I can't smoke because of the baby."

Ruby burst out laughing. At first I was annoyed then I could see that there was a funny side to it. I started laughing as well.

Ruby wiped the tears from her face.

"I can see that there are real drawbacks to that scenario, Pearl. Do you get morning sickness and all the other symptoms?"

"Not morning sickness. I'd imagined myself at eight and a half months."

"Whoa! That is a big jump to take in your imagination."

"It works too well. My belly actually swells before my eyes, I feel heavy and unbalanced, I can feel the baby moving - the whole thing."

"Your belly swells?"

"Yes. Not much but it is noticeable. I suppose my stomach muscles relax and sag. When I'm naked I can see it happen. My breasts grow as well and my nipples stand out."

"Pearl, you are carrying self-hypnosis just too far."

"I know. It has stopped me smoking but whenever I feel the need for a cigarette I become heavily pregnant. Some of my friends think I need to see a doctor because I suddenly slow down and move with difficulty. I can't tell them that it is all in my mind. I haven't even told the others at the non-smoking sessions. I'm dreading the next one. We are supposed to report back on our progress. I haven't smoked but they will want to know how I did it. I don't think I can tell them."

"Can you show me now?"

"Yes. I can do it anytime, anywhere." I stood up and concentrated. Ruby put her hands to my stomach.

"I felt you swell!" she seemed astonished.

"I told you I did."

"But I didn't expect to feel it so strongly," Ruby said "and your breasts grew a size at least."

"That part I like. So does Neil."

"I'll bet he does. Instant breast enlargement without surgery is a neat trick." Ruby looked closely at me.

"There's something else, isn't there Pearl? This is mildly embarrassing but you could make a joke of it and pass it off to the other members of the class, couldn't you?"

"You know me too well, Ruby. Yes. There is something else."

"And it concerns Neil?"

"Yes." 

"Out with it. You said that he can't use self-hypnosis but you can do it to him. What do you do?" She stopped. "You don't make him think that he is pregnant as well, do you?"

"No. It would be easier if I did."

"Easier to make your husband pregnant? You must be kidding."

"I'm not. Even if I had managed to persuade Neil that he is pregnant I don't think that would necessarily have stopped him smoking. He doesn't have the same feelings as a woman. That scenario might not have worked for him. I thought of one that does work and makes it impossible for him to smoke but ..."

"Come on, Pearl, you have been dodging this ever since I came. You can tell your sister."

"I make him believe that he is my baby."

"That is not so unusual. Many women treat their husbands as babies."

I shook my head. "Not like I do." I pointed at my still swollen belly.

"You don't mean that you make him think he is your UNBORN baby?"

I nodded.

"You make him believe he is inside your womb as an eight and a half month foetus?"

I nodded again.

"That is fantastic. I can see your problem. You can't admit that to your class."

"It is Neil's class too. How do you think he would feel if I told them that I put him inside my uterus? Particularly as I do it TO him because he can't hypnotise himself. I can do it WITHOUT his consent."

"You can do it to him even when he doesn't want you to?"

"Yes, Ruby. I can do it even when he is angry with me and totally uncooperative."

"I can see that Neil would resent that. You could really damage your relationship if it became known that you can control your husband that much. His male ego couldn't survive such a public humiliation, no one's could. I'm surprised he hasn't rebelled in private. I don't think I could accept anyone having that much power over me." 

"So far Neil has accepted my control as a way of stopping him smoking. He is prepared to surrender to me in his best long term interest, but ..."

"But he is frightened that you can control him totally at any time for whatever reason you like?"

I nodded.

"Could you?"

"Yes."

"Then you should stop NOW. Complete power over another is really dangerous to both of you." Ruby insisted.

"I know. I want to stop but both of us like it. We find it really arousing and afterwards our sex is wonderful. We wouldn't want to lose that."

"OK. Then you MUST give some control back to Neil. He must consent EVERY time. How?" Ruby paused.

"I'd like to but I overwhelm him completely. Once the process has started he cannot do anything unless I tell him to."

"Perhaps if you tell me exactly what you do we can work out a way for Neil to participate willingly."

"Maybe." I was doubtful. "I'll tell you and this evening I'll show you just what I do."

"Won't Neil resent a demonstration with me present?"

"He won't even know you are here, Ruby. Once I start he cannot hear, see or remember anything."

"That sounds impossible."

"It isn't. It started soon after I'd decided the pregnancy scenario. At first I had to get into the mood. I changed my clothes. Do you remember my black silk "Batgirl" dress?"

"Yes. You wore to a fancy dress party we both went to."

"Then you remember that it has elasticated cuffs at wrists and ankles and when I spread my legs and arms out the material is loose enough to make massive "bat" wings?" There is no bottom opening. Between my legs it is sewn shut.

"Yes."

"Neil likes it. I wrap it around him and cuddle him tight. He disappears, wrapped by my "wings". I don't wear the hood and the pointed ears, just the dress. I thought that I could be "pregnant" in that dress. It took me a few weeks to get to the stage that I could imagine I was pregnant. I could only do it wearing that dress. Neil was delighted. He was getting wrapped by me nearly every evening. While wrapped he couldn't smoke either."

"I'm surprised that he could breathe, let alone smoke."

"I had to uncover his face from time to time but we spent hours with him closely wrapped in my dress. We didn't get much done but we weren't smoking either. Then I had the disastrous idea of making him my baby. I persuaded him to strip and then wrapped him. We both found that arousing. I was slowly beginning to convince him that he was my "baby".

The dress was being used every evening so I made several similar ones so that they could be washed. I changed one detail. The original zips down the front. The others - I put another zip in the bottom between the ankle cuffs. When I first used one of the new dresses I talked Neil into crawling up inside. Then I closed the zip between my ankles. He was naked and bagged inside my dress next to my skin. That evening was the first time that my hypnosis worked fully. I had persuaded him that he was inside my womb. He was a foetus and couldn't hear, see or speak. It worked so well that it frightened me. I didn't keep him like that for more than a couple of minutes. 

When I brought him out of his trance he was still bagged inside my dress. He was disorientated and fought to get out of my dress but he couldn't. The zip only worked from the outside and he couldn't undo it. I had to hug him hard to calm him down and stop him hurting himself or me. Then I let him out and cuddled him.

Neil had no memory at all of what had happened. He knew nothing from the time I had walked into the room until he came to outside  my dress. Nothing at all!"

"Nothing?" asked Ruby.

"No. He couldn't remember a thing. I told him what had happened and what I had done. He didn't believe me. He didn't believe until I did it again. This time I talked to him while he was "inside" my womb. I told him that he could tell me what he was feeling. We had set up the tape deck and recorded everything. 

He told me that he was cradled within my body. He could hear my heart beat. He was tightly held in my warm, soft and dark womb surrounded by my love which was so strong that he was finding it difficult to do anything except lie still and enjoy it. I stopped him talking and then told him that I was going to give "birth" to him. He should relax and let me do everything. I would tell him when he was "born" and then he should return to normal.

I unzipped the dress and eased him out. I closed the dress again, hugged him to my breasts and told him that he had been "born". Neil opened his eyes and looked at me. He smiled blissfully and snuggled against me. He went to sleep.

When he woke up we played the recording back. He still didn't  believe. He didn't want to. 

But I'd made a mistake with the tape recorder. When the replay ended I pressed record instead of stop. The tape recorded his unbelief and me losing my temper at his repeated refusal to accept what had happened. Eventually I told him we should do it again. He refused but I flipped the open bottom hem of my dress over his head and pulled it down hard.

Even I couldn't credit the effect on him. As soon as his head was inside my dress he stopped arguing in mid-flow and became quiet and still. I just held his head wrapped in my dress and thought hard. If covering his head was enough to make him think that he was held inside me, how little an effect was needed? 

One of things that had been suggested on the course was that once we had found a scenario that worked then we should look for the smallest stimulus necessary to produce a reminder of the scenario. I'd been working on the "pregnancy" stimulus. At that time I no longer needed the "batwing" dress. Any loose waisted dress would do. Jeans or trousers didn't work. Sometimes I could do it wearing a skirt. I had to "think" myself pregnant. It was a conscious and controlled process. I'd start by imagining my huge belly, then my enlarged breasts, and lastly the unbalancing weight. When I'd got to the weight I felt pregnant and therefore I wouldn't smoke a cigarette. The whole process took about five minutes."

"It doesn't take that long now?" Ruby asked.

"It did then, but now all I have to do is a couple of seconds of the breathing exercise taught at ante-natal classes while thinking of my song that goes with the exercise."

"What song?"

"Cliff Richard's Summer Holiday. You know - We're all going on a summer holiday. Now I don't get beyond 'all' before I feel the effect. But then it took a long time. That is why I couldn't understand how quickly Neil was affected. Once my dress was over his head it was instantaneous."

"That must have been scary."

"It was. One second he was angry and arguing, the next second he was lying completely still against me. I cuddled his head against my breasts for a long time before I unwrapped him. Even then he just lay against me. I had to tell him to wake up before he was back to normal. Then I told him what I had done. This time he believed me, particularly when he noticed that the tape recorder was still running. 

We played it back, all of it. There was the first part, then him arguing and cut off in mid sentence. We timed the silence until I told him to wake up. It had been twelve minutes. 

Since then we have done it many times. Every time he thinks he wants a cigarette he comes to find me. I just lift my skirt and shove his head underneath it. As long as he is completely in the dark inside my clothing for a while the stimulus works. It doesn't happen with a lightweight or translucent skirt. That is why I always wear a full skirt, preferably lined and with a dark petticoat, like this."

I lifted the hem of my skirt and showed Ruby the black nylon lining and the dark blue waist slip.

"It is difficult to believe, Pearl, and sometimes must be inconvenient for you. You can't do much with Neil's head stuffed inside your skirt, can you?"

"I don't have to. It takes just a few seconds for him to believe that he is inside me. The effect lasts about half an hour before he comes to again. He can do some things independently after about five minutes but he still feels 'wrapped' inside me and he can't talk or hear anything. One condition I've built into the process is that he can't go out of my sight until he is fully himself again. At first I really tied him to my apron strings. I tied a wrist to the back of my apron until he came to enough to undo it with his free hand. He needs something for his own protection. He couldn't hear a fire alarm, for example. He can only respond to direct commands from me."

"That is a heavy responsibility for you, isn't it, Pearl?"

"Not really, Ruby. I promised to 'have and hold' my husband. I didn't expect the 'holding' to be quite so literal but I'm happy to look after Neil when he believes he is wrapped in my body and love. I'm beginning to enjoy it. It doesn't take much effort on my part yet the effect on him is the same as if I'd spent a whole evening pampering and loving him. He can really feel my love as a physical presence surrounding him. 

After a while it started to work for me as well. Now, whenever I make myself feel "pregnant", it is Neil that I have inside me. I don't feel just that Neil is my baby, but that he has made passionate love to me for hours and he is still held inside my sex. I am enjoying the after effects of repeated orgasms. And I can feel all that after a few seconds of concentration. It is well worth the feeling of being heavy and unwieldy."

"I wondered about that, Pearl." Ruby commented "When you made yourself "pregnant" your face flushed and you had a blissful expression on your face. I thought that you were getting a sexual kick out of the experience."

"I am. It is much better than any boost I used to get from having a cigarette. Much much better! Neil is getting a sexual boost from it as well. Although he feels that he is inside my womb his mind tells him that he got there by making love to me and penetrating me so far that I've swallowed him through my vagina."

"That's impossible."

"Of course it is, but so is having Neil wrapped in my womb. Neil and I have talked about it both when he is himself and also when he is "inside" me. We managed to talk through a slow-motion account of what happens to him."

"And what does happen, Pearl?"

"I'd like to demonstrate on Neil with you present but this is what he and I have worked out. It took several sessions to get the whole story and we found that wrapping him in one of my batwing dresses was the best way to produce "slow-motion". I wrapped all of him except his head. Then he could tell me the effect I was having on him. 

Remember that what happens appears instantaneous to him and to me. Yet he feels first that he is making love to me. I have my arms and legs tightly wrapped around him, pulling him as deep inside me as is physically possible. I have several orgasms, bear-hugging him each time. Then when I'm nearly satisfied he lets himself go during my last orgasm. Afterwards, when he is lying on me I roll us over until I'm on top. I move down his body to his feet and straddle them. So far so good, and not unusual. The next bit is fantasy. He believes that I start by pulling his feet inside my vagina. He feels the warmth spreading up from his feet as I gradually swallow his legs. As my lips spread out to cover his hips, he has an orgasm as my vagina squeezes his penis against his body. 

Once his hips are fully inside I grab his hands and push them inside me. I swallow his chest and shoulders slowly. He describes it as similar to gradually lowering himself inch by inch into a warm swimming pool but the water is pressing hard, more like sinking into quicksand or wet cement. Yet that isn't quite the sensation. He wants to sink, to be swallowed, to be lost inside me. When his shoulders are inside me, my lips contract around his neck. He cannot move anything except his head.


Hypnotic



"So you talked to her?" Harry asked focusing his gaze at the Assistant District Attorney's brown eyes. He found it difficult to keep his eyes from wandering when working with Kacie.

"We're going to need to let her go," she said crossing her legs.

"She seemed cooperative," he replied, sitting down across the table.

"Yes, I thought we had something there. Everything was just too coincidental. Each victim was a patient of hers, each claimed rape while the men claim innocence... actually saying it was the woman who forcefully initiated the sex."

"You have reason to doubt the women's account?" 

"It is odd, they claim to only remember waking up with a man after sex," she replied fingering her long, dark hair.

"Rohypnol?" 

"We ran tox tests and they were clean. A few had indication of alcohol but not enough to cause this."

"So..."

"Their doctor was the link. She does use hypnosis in her sessions."

"You think..."

"I thought, but now I'm not so sure. She showed nothing but genuine concern for her patients and for most of them the incidents occurred over a week after their most recent session."

"How long can the hypnosis last?"

"Well it's not the hypnosis, it's more from the suggestion. I'm not an expert, but it seems too long. Besides it's too much like a cheap crime novel."

"Okay I'll put the doctor's file away and lean a bit harder on the guys. Hey, you got the video on?"

"Yeah I wanted to have it to look over again just in case I missed something. She consented."

"No lawyer?"

A strange look came over her face as she walked over to Harry's side of the table. Sitting down she let her leg brush against his as she answered, "No, she was okay alone."

Harry inched away from her but she grabbed his hand and placed it on her thigh. Her grip tightened as he tried to move it away.

"Kacie, are you feeling all right?"

"You tell me Harry, how do I feel?" taking his hand and guiding it under her skirt.

Harry had been attracted to the tall prosecutor but the interrogation room was just not the place. He tried to ease his had from under her skirt but she tightened her grip again.

"Kacie, we can't... Not here."

"Why not? Door's locked."

"Locked? How did you..."

"Key."

"But you're not supposed to..." he paused as she grabbed his tie pulling him up from his chair. Before he knew it she had pushed him back on the table and worked on his pants. He initially put up a mild resistance but then just simply gave in to her advances.

He just watched as she worked his erection out of his pants and slipped her mouth over him. The immediate sensation was intense as she began sucking hard. As her head bobbed up and down on him he reached around her to cup his hand on her ass finding she wasn't wearing panties.

Before he could work his hand around to find her pussy she climbed up on the table and straddled him. 

He moaned, "What about a..." but before he could say condom he felt the warm, wet softness envelope him as she lowered herself.

"Oh Harry, fuck me, fuck me," she cried out as she moved up and down his cock grinding herself on him. All he could do is take it all in as she moved over him, quickening her pace with each flex of her hips. Feeling her fingers squeeze him he lifted his hips pushing as deep as he could into her.

They came together with her pussy clenching and releasing his cock as he spurted into her again and again. He was about to grab her head and give her a kiss when she shouted, "Harry, what the hell?"

Climbing off of him she hissed, "What are you doing?"

"Me? It was you, all you."

"Don't give me that, I wouldn't... no I wouldn't do that."

"Kacie, I didn't do it, you did it all. Look, the video is still running, watch what happened."

She immediately walked over to the video camera and backed it up. Watching the tiny LED screen she watched herself in silence. Stopping the playback at the part when she climbed on top of Harry she looked up at him and said, "Get that doctor back in here now!"

Zipping up his pants, Harry unlocked the door and ran out into the hallway.



Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 01



The Beauty

Alright, here's the deal. This story isn't about me... it's about Betty. Betty the Beauty. But things got awfully confusing awfully fast; and so, for the sake of simplifying it even a little, I'm going to step in first and introduce the characters. After all, I've known all the participants in our tale the longest. But the thing is: where do I begin? Most people would say that I should begin at the beginning; but I've always been a rebel, so I'm going to tell you the end of the story... or at least, the end as far as I'M concerned. So... here are the players, and here's what happened to ME.

The first time we were actually all together was in the apartment, in the kitchen. The guys were fighting, sitting across from each other at the small dining table, yelling. Betty was sitting between them, facing me. And me? I wasn't sitting at all; I was standing; leaning back; resting my elbows on the countertop next to the sink. Billy was to my right (Betty's left); Tony was to my left (Betty's right).

So... you got the layout, right? Now, the first thing I'm going to do (right after I describe each of the people in our little production) is to tell you why I was standing up while the other three were sitting down. And that's just going to blow you away! Swear to God! And THEN I'm going to tell you why the guys were screaming at each other. And that's going to blow you away even more!

And so, without further ado, I will proceed with the introduction of characters. Me first. Hey, it's MY introduction, so I'm going to go first! My name is Riya, and I am an "Other." You see, in the U.S., every ten years, there's a census. They like to say that they just want to know how many people there are; but if you've ever seen a census form, it's pretty obvious that it's all about marketing (or gerrymandering, which is the political equivalent). They are clearly trying to gain something. They're trying to categorize us. They're trying to sell us something.

The first thing they're interested in is race. Black, Caucasian, Hispanic, Asian... in the last census there were 15 categories to choose from. One of those categories was "Other." My Dad's father was an African American who, as a soldier in Viet Nam, met Grandma while on R&R in the Philippines. Granddad was Baptist, but he really didn't give a shit; so Dad was raised Catholic. Mommy's dad (Poppy) was a Samoan born in Hawaii. He met Moppy on a business trip to India. Poppy was raised in some sort of polytheistic religion, but he didn't give a shit either; so Mommy was raised Hindu. And then, so was I. Unfortunately for Mommy, I inherited my "give a shit" characteristics from the men of the family. It came to a head (pardon the pun) when she wanted me to start wearing a bindi to show my faith following Pooja and other prayer services. I stopped praying and she stopped talking to me... at least for a year or two.

So... I'm an "Other." Whatever genes are in me, they aligned to form something between "exotic hottie" and "junkyard mongrel." I didn't much care which. The way guys kept hounding me, I guess my "hottie" persona must have slipped to the fore from time to time, but I kept it at bay as best I could. After I left home, I immersed myself in quantum physics at MIT. I simply didn't care about religion... or about men. I even resorted to putting a bindi on my forehead just to discourage prospective suitors (though I never returned to prayer). You see, a bindi on a woman of marriageable age can signify dedication and loyalty to her man, as well as to her faith. Nothing turns a guy off like religion. But then I met Tony.

Next character: Anthony Bionicci (sitting to my left, Betty's right). Born Chicago, 1984. Family business: extortion and coercion. Tony is NOT in the family business, much to the family's dismay. He definitely has the family physical traits: dark hair, dark eyes, wiry frame, and an unbelievably smooth style with women. There was a glimmer of hope (as far as the family was concerned) when he went into pre-law at UNC. (There was ALWAYS a need for another mouthpiece in "the business.") But that glimmer died abruptly when Tony met Billy (sitting to my right, Betty's left). Within a week of that meeting, Tony switched to the incredibly narrow field of Copyright Law.

Now, I know you're going to accuse me of reneging on my original promises, but I am NOT going to describe Billy to you. I'll let Betty do that. Exactly HOW William Smythe and Anthony Bionicci first got together (during their second year of post-grad studies) is still the stuff of legend. I've only heard them talking about it when they were both drunk, and neither of them is very reliable in that state, so not even I know for sure. They moved in together in a house off-campus. Billy had developed something, and Tony put ALL of his efforts (from that point on) into protecting it. All these years later, that's still what he's doing. And they've more or less split all the money from the thing 50/50.

Okay, I'm only going to bore you with this using one paragraph. If you can't keep up, don't worry about it. It's MY field, and it took me a long time to understand everything about it, myself. Billy had developed a workable quantum computer. Basic computers use processors based on the electron. As complicated and as small as they are nowadays, they still basically use simple on-off, one-zero code. I mean, even processors that think in terms of terabytes are still based on the byte. Now, the concept of a system that is based on something OTHER than the electron has been around for decades. There have been advances made by folks at MIT, IBM, Argonne, CERN, Oxford and other places, working on principles that would include four, five and even eight qubits (quantum bits). Billy's processor worked on the basic (and not entirely original) concept that a bit could not only be on or off, but on AND off at the same time (yes, yes, I know: the basis for "Schrödinger's cat"). The REAL problem with quantum machines has always been that even if they worked, they wound up being less powerful than the computers we already have. But Billy's processor not only worked, it immediately multiplied available capacity... and it would continue to multiply that capacity as processing capability improved. He had already developed conversion software for every platform.

So... I bored you with Billy's paragraph. Here's Tony's paragraph. If you don't know what a "patent troll" is, I need you to look it up online now. Keep in mind that the IDEA of quantum computers has been around for a long time now. Trolls, though they had no idea HOW something like that could conceivably work, had already patented THOUSANDS of conceptual overall themes that would at least come close enough to Billy's so that they would claim the profits for whatever he came up with. THAT is why Tony changed his field of legal study. THAT was the problem he dedicated himself to solving. And more than two years later, he did. It meant combining legal teams from ALL the major computing firms... and then applying political pressure (LOTS of political pressure) until the laws were finally, finally changed into something with a little more common sense. It was a HUGE victory. Overnight, the entire world of computing changed dramatically. And BQPC (Billy's Quantum Processing Corporation, LLC) was born.

You have no idea how much I wanted to go to work for that company! EVERYBODY did! The world's first quantum processor manufacturer! The firm was very small at first, even though the major computer corporations were clamoring for immediate payback for their part in changing the laws. Seed money just POURED in! Hundreds of millions! I don't know how they decided to choose my name, or why I was one of the first people interviewed, but I'll never forget that day as long as I live. The newly-appointed personnel manager was just about to call me into her office when Tony caught sight of me in the waiting room and immediately proclaimed that HE would interview me personally. His new office was still mostly crates and boxes, but he kept me in there for more than an hour. I knew right away that he had no interest in my abilities... he only had interest in ME! I resisted, and when he asked me out for dinner that evening, I actually burst into tears before telling him to go fuck himself and storming out. Oh gosh, I had wanted that job! Before I'd gotten back to my motel room, he'd already left me three voice messages telling me that I had the job and that I was under absolutely NO obligation to him. Ever. Period. But please, please take the job, he said. And I did, of course.

At the end of my first week, he asked me out on a date again. I ranted and berated him and turned him down flat, but he just smiled and shrugged and apologized and walked away. He asked me out again the following week... which I refused. And the next week, and the next. He was always very polite; always very respectful. But he was also very persistent. If I saw him approaching me in the hall, I would often yell "No, Mr. Bionicci, I will NOT go out with you!" and people would stop and stare and snicker. But as he passed, he would simply smile and respond quietly, "Perhaps next time, then, Riya."

I was working furiously with Billy's new staff of mathematicians and engineers (though not with Billy himself. A very private person, Billy). I stayed late on most evenings, working. Somehow, Tony found out about this, and wandered in from time to time. Often, in fact. And he'd ask me questions about what I was doing, apparently taking genuine interest. He never demanded. He never gave ultimatums. But he was always THERE; always applying that underlying subtle pressure; always letting me know that his feeling for me were pure but undeniable. He started sending me flowers. And finally, finally, I relented and went out with him. I had a good time... and he KNEW it. And then, I let him take me out the following week. And the next. And then twice in a week. And then three times. I put off having sex with him for more than a month. But by that time, I was already hooked. I was already his. Forever.

Shortly after I moved in with him, he asked me for the first time if he could hypnotize me. It obviously took me by surprise. I knew that he had been a womanizer... that he had often dated several girls at once. He swore to me (and I later learned it was true) that he hadn't been with a woman sexually... hadn't even been out on a date with anyone else... since the day he had met me. He confessed to me that before that, he frequently hypnotized girls, and that once knowledge of his little "hobby" had gotten around, women would approach him, wanting him to use it on them. They expected it to end in sex, and he insisted that he could dramatically improve the experience using it. I thought about it for a week or two before I finally let him try it on me. And he was right. It really DID improve things. Not that they particularly needed improvement. I was already his. Completely his. Oh, how I love that man! And... I have always loved having sex with Tony. The hypnosis simply took something that was already wonderful and made it almost infinitely variable. Very soon, I became hooked on it. He would utter a few words, and I'd just surrender to him and slip into a trance. I have to admit, the feeling is heavenly!

I'm not going to tell you about the first time I met Billy. I WILL tell you that it was very, very much like the first time Betty met him, so you can (and must) wait for her description of that event. But I WILL tell you that we became very close friends. There is no one like Billy. He is stupendously bright, marvelously witty, and generally just fun to be with.

Just about the time the company spit out our first quantum processor, Tony bought the mansion on the lake south of Chapel Hill. It wasn't one of those old southern plantation affairs; it was a modern 50-room place that had been built in the 1940's by a textile manufacturing magnate. You know... back when there WAS textile manufacturing in the U.S. There are three wings, and Tony and I moved into the top floor of one of them, while Tony's offices were below. Another wing was used for "business purposes;" entertaining executives from computer firms, etc. Ballroom, dining room, etcetera, downstairs; bedrooms upstairs. We also used it for throwing parties for employees and friends from the universities in the Research Triangle and beyond. The downstairs of the remaining wing was used for R&D offices. And the upstairs held "The Apartment," as well as a couple spare bedrooms.

The seven-room apartment was Billy's sanctuary. He never went out. Ever. The largest room in the Apartment was the office, one wall of which was taken up with books, while the other three walls were covered with dry-erase boards. There were movable ladders that allowed him to scribble all the way to the ceiling. In the center of the room were four desks, and he'd switch from one to the other depending on which computer he needed at the time. The Apartment also contained a bedroom, living room, exercise room, den and kitchen... in which, at the beginning of the end of our story, we were all sitting. All except me. I was standing. Remember that.

And now, at long last, it's time for me to tell you about Betty. Betty is the girl that all other girls love to hate. Her hair is a jumbled mass of red curls that fits her perfectly, and every strand stays in its perfectly chaotic place. As a matter of fact, ALL of Betty's features fit her perfectly. Her nose might be a tad smaller than the perfect nose, but it's the perfect size for HER. Know what I mean? I have seen her without an iota of makeup, and she still looks as if her face couldn't be improved upon. Her lips are naturally red, her cheeks naturally blush, her lashes naturally dark and full. But that's NOT the most amazing thing about her. The clincher is that beauty doesn't MEAN anything to her. She never works at it! She never really THINKS about her appearance! It would be one thing if she just took it for granted... but it's something entirely different to realize that if she suddenly lost her beauty, she wouldn't suffer because of it... she'd be just as happy as always... she'd just go right on being Betty. And THAT is what is so infuriating!

The final characteristic that fits her perfectly is her overall persona. Betty is innocent. Sublimely, ridiculously innocent. She always, always tells the truth, no matter who she is speaking to. And conversely, she always assumes that that person is telling her the truth, in return. This is not to say that the girl is stupid. In point of fact, she is one of the brightest, sharpest people I've ever met. It means that, in the end, she is quite often disappointed; sometimes crushingly so. I know that she has been enticed by at least two separate fringe religious groups. I pulled her back from the brink in one of those cases myself the year we graduated from high school. And, I know that she's been seduced by two guys who promised her the moon and delivered only heartache. I'll give her one point: she learns from her failures. After the second bout of religious fervor, she pretty much lost her faith. And after romantic heartache number two, she simply stopped dating. Period. At the time our little saga took place, she hadn't been out with a guy for two years. No shit.

Okay, one last point before we get started here. Billy's favorite movie line comes from "Silverado," a western from several years ago. In it, John Cleese's character tells a group of cowboys in very stilted English: "I am not from around these parts." Billy loves to say that. And... he's not. It really isn't a problem... unless he becomes agitated for some reason. You know... flustered or embarrassed or angry. And right now, he was angry. As a result, he had slipped back into the dialect of his upbringing. It made understanding him a bit... difficult.

So... hang on to your hats! Here we go! Billy to my right, Tony to my left. Why was I standing up? Because I was wearing the same skimpy, powder-blue, pull-over dress that I'd been wearing to the party earlier that evening. That dress... and nothing else. The bra was in the trash. I had no IDEA where my panties were. And Billy's cum was dribbling out of me down my inner thighs. I knew that if I sat down, I'd wind up with a dark stain on the back of my dress in precisely the place I least wanted a stain. And it would only underscore the horrible fact that it was Billy's cum that was doing the staining! Remember... it was Tony that was my true one-and-only... my lord and master... my soul mate... the love of my life.

Tony and Betty had caught us "in flagrante delicto." Oh, I forgot to tell you that Betty sort of had a thing for Billy. I was not really sure if that was the reason she was sitting like she was: between the two guys, refusing to look up at me. She'd been carrying around a flower all evening... a long-stemmed rose... and she was idly playing with it, so that the poor thing was about to fall apart. Gosh, I felt horrible! Not just because I'd let Billy do the deep nasty to me... not just because I thought I'd betrayed Tony... but because I thought I'd betrayed Betty, too.

And why were the boys arguing? Because it had all been Tony's doing! Well... not quite; but almost. At various times during the afternoon and evening, Billy, Betty and I had all been hypnotized (and not always by Tony... but I'll get to that.) But Tony had been responsible! The events had all unfolded BECAUSE of Tony. I felt awful. Billy felt awful. Betty felt awful. And Billy, for one, was not going to let it slide.

"Dodgy bloody stonkin' tosser!" Billy screamed across the table (at his best friend, mind you). Betty didn't look up, but her forehead wrinkled in thought, and I could tell that she was trying to translate that in her perfect little head.

Tony raised his hands in surrender. "Dude, I'm really sorry. I didn't know... "

"I ain't your dude, mate! Put a sock in it! Pardon me if I look a bit narked, but you're gawd barmy! Ye' gutted me, bugger!" 

Betty's forehead wrinkled a bit more, but she still didn't look up.

And Billy went on: "Y' send your crackin' bird in here to mesmerize me and get me worked up; then you go and drag HER in to watch me give 'er the roger! Sorry we'd already finished up!"

"That's NOT why I brought her in here!" Tony said earnestly. "She wanted to see you again. And the way you looked at HER during the last party... "

"You told 'er I was lookin' at 'er?"

"She KNEW, you fool! You'd already shown her your little video setup here! And so she knew you were probably watching while I put her under tonight, too."

"Oh... I betcha y' had a great time doin' THAT! What ELSE y' been doin' with her all this time, eh?"

"Nothing, dude; I swear. But... oh, man! I've never had a subject like HER! You would not believe how... "

"Wonderfully suggestible," Betty said quietly. It was like she was talking to the flower.

"Yeah," Tony said, nodding. "Wonderfully suggestible!"

"Well, she's 'ad about enough of 'yer bloody suggestions!" Billy growled.

"That's the point, Billy!" Tony responded emphatically. "She can't get enough! She needs a strong man to... "

"Guys!" I implored. "Stop talking about her like that. She's sitting right there!"

"I'm sitting right here," Betty said to the flower.

They ignored us both. "Well, 'y buggered it bad, mate!"

"I was trying to HELP you, you thick-skulled idiot!" Tony flared.

"'Elp me? Sod off! You know what you are? You... you... "

"Wanker," Betty said quietly. She didn't look up, but kept fingering the flower. The three of us stared at her in shock for a long three seconds before bursting into laughter.

"Let's all take a deep breath here," I chimed in. "None of us meant for this to happen. It wasn't what it looked like."




Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 01



Billy barked a laugh. "It looked like we'd done the rumpy pumpy 'cause we HAD, dear heart."

"That's enough!" I screamed, and both men seemed to shrink back, silent. Betty STILL didn't look up, and I began to really be afraid that Tony had done something serious to her. They'd been together for almost two hours. Had he altered her somehow? Changed how she thought? How she acted? I took a breath and pushed away from the counter. "What's done is done," I declared sternly, walking around the small table. "We're going to get through this and we are NOT going to let it get in the way of our friendship! Got it?" The boys fidgeted and regarded each other suspiciously, but remained quiet.

I put my hand on Betty's shoulder, and when she still didn't respond, I took her hand. She rose and allowed me to pull her in the direction of the next room. Suddenly, she stiffened, pulled away from me, and went back to the table. She picked up the flower before returning to me and putting her hand back into mine; and together, we went into the living room. There, hopefully out of earshot of the guys, I turned her toward me and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Are you still in there, Betty?" I asked. That brought the old smile back, and I sighed in relief.

"What...? Did you think he'd brainwashed me or something?" she asked softly.

"I thought it a distinct possibility, yes."

Her sight seemed to shift inward, as if she was examining herself... her thoughts and feelings. "I suppose it IS possible, at that. He put me to sleep over and over. Dozens of times. Maybe hundreds. It was... wonderful!" Her eyes focused on mine again. "He does that to YOU doesn't he, Riya? You submit to him like that, don't you? Over and over."

I couldn't keep the shiver from my body as I thought about it. "Oh, yes. Yes, I do."

She smiled dreamily, then frowned. "I hope you don't feel jealous. I didn't mean to let him do something... um... intimate with me."

I tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a sigh. "How can you say that after what I'VE just done? Oh, girlfriend, I'm SO sorry!"

She kept smiling. "But YOU didn't do it, did you? I mean, you didn't MEAN for it to happen, right? It just sort of happened by itself?"

"I could have stopped it," I told her morosely. "I SHOULD have stopped it." I took a breath. "Yes, it was my fault."

She considered this for a long moment, then looked earnestly into my eyes. "Riya... what was he like?"

I laughed, despite myself. I'd always been her rock, her foundation. And now, even though I'd betrayed her, she sought my advice. I hooked my arm through hers and steered her back toward the kitchen. "Find out for yourself," I said bluntly.

"Riya!" she gasped.

I paused and looked at her. "You want him, girl. TAKE him!" Then I marched her back into the room with the guys, who still sat sort of bristling at each other without talking.

"Tony, my dearest darling," I said with as much icy venom as I could muster, "we should leave." He fumbled uncertainly to his feet and blinked at me. "And Billy," I added sweetly, "I'm not going to drive Betty back tonight. It's too late. Could you put her in one of the spare bedrooms, please?" He, too, got to his feet. "I'll leave her in your capable hands," I finished, then turned to Tony and led him out of the apartment and down the hall.

Finally away from them, I let go of my boyfriend's hand and strode off ahead of him. It took him a long ten seconds to catch back up to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off and kept marching. I didn't pause as I reached the marble staircase, breaking cadence only briefly when I heard him trip and stumble behind me, and for a moment, I wanted to turn and make sure he was okay. But his hurried steps resumed their tempo, and I ignored him. Downstairs, I turned toward the door to one of the back courtyards... the one with the pool and hot tub, and suddenly, we were outside in the warm August night. He finally caught my arm and spun me around to face him.

"Riya, please! Give me a chance to explain!"

"You KNEW that was going to happen, didn't you?" I accused.

"No, I swear."

I stared into his eyes. "But you knew it was a possibility!"

And I saw it, deep inside him. Moreover, he KNEW that I'd seen it. He couldn't hide his true feelings from me. His whole body seemed to deflate a little. "Yes... I knew it was a possibility."

"Then WHY? Why did you put me in that position? Put US in that position? You crushed him, Tony! He feels awful!"

He smiled gently at that. "He'll get over it. And you HELPED him, Riya! I could tell the moment I laid eyes on him just now! He was a mouse, and now he's a lion!"

"Mouse... lion!" I sputtered. "And I am the whore!"

"No," he said, still smiling. "You are my Riya. My wonderful Riya. You were magnificent! Now he's free... to pursue Betty, or whomever he pleases. You saved my friend, Riya. I love you."

I felt tears flood my eyes. "Apparently, your love for me is not as strong as your friendship for him."

The smile never faded. I've never felt so much simultaneous love and exasperation toward anyone in my life. "It's not a contest, my dear. And nothing in this universe can exceed my love for you." He dug in his pocket for something, then held out a small case, snapped it open, and fell to one knee in front of me. "Riya, will you...?"

My eyes went round in shock and I backed up a step. "NO!" I screamed loudly. "Tony, don't you DARE!"

I was blinded by tears, and as I turned to run, I very indelicately tripped over a lounge chair and went sprawling face-first onto the lawn. I got my hands under me, but as I raised a knee to regain my footing, I kicked another chair and went down again hard. Suddenly, he was there and he'd flipped me over and I was in his arms. I looked up into his face. At least the stupid smile was gone. "Honey," said unsteadily, "I... What...?"

I put my hands against his chest and pushed, but he didn't let go. "Tony, you stupid putz!" I pushed again, but to no avail. "I've been waiting for you to ask me for months! But... but I'm full of another man's cum! I feel it dripping out of me! If I tell you yes, then every time I remember this, I'll remember how I feel now! I don't feel... clean, Tony! And anyway, you just made me...!"

His strong arms slowly crushed me to him. I tried to push against him one last time, but then his body was against mine. Before I realized it, I felt his lips against my left ear. "Shhh," he hushed me gently. And he said the words. I don't know what the words are... my conscious self forgets them as soon as I hear them; but those words are not to be denied. They make me sleep. They always make me sleep.

I gasped and tried to stiffen my body, but I found it relaxing, instead. "Tony, NO!" I tried to scream, but it came out as a pleading whisper. Suddenly, I felt as if I'd been awake for days. I was SO tired!

"Relax, Riya," he purred. "There's time for a little nap. Just let go for me, okay?"

I wanted to push against him again, but my arms flopped to my sides into the cool grass instead. "Oohh, Tony!" I moaned.

"Too many bad thoughts, Riya," he said gently. "Just let all of your thoughts go away. No thoughts at all." There was something I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't think what it was now. I couldn't think at all. "Just let go and surrender to me, Riya," he said earnestly.

"Surr... en... derrrrrr," I breathed. Oh, I cannot begin to tell you how much I wanted this... how good this felt. Sometimes, when Tony hypnotizes me, I dream that I'm walking. Sometimes, I fly. This time, I floated... out into the pleasant night. At first, I wasn't naked; but then I was. I floated over to the hot tub and settled into the warm, swirling water. It felt luxurious; marvelous. And I felt... really, really good. Feminine. Sexy. And clean. I don't know why, but if I had to tell you one word to best described me at that moment, I'd have told you I was clean. The bubbling torrents of hot, cleansing water had made my body... perfect. All by myself, I decided to count to three. "One Two Three."

I blinked my eyes open and looked around. At first, I thought I was alone, but then I saw him... right in front of me. Well... not all of him. His arms were sticking up out of the roiling water, holding the open ring case. If I looked a little harder, I could just make out the top of his head beyond the arms, his black hair swirling around it. He was obviously kneeling on the bottom of the small pool. I reached out, grabbed the jewelry case and pulled. He didn't let go.

"Hey!" he cried, bobbing to the surface, sputtering and blinking. I realized that he wouldn't let go of the box, so I snatched the ring out of it. "Hey!" he barked again. "You can't take that until you agree to marry me!"

"You're going to drop it, you fool!" I scolded. I slipped the ring onto my left ring finger.

"But... you haven't answered my question!" he pleaded.

"What question?"

He sighed. "WILL YOU MARRY ME?!"

I examined the ring. Oh, gosh, it was perfect! Not gaudy at all... maybe a bit more than half a carat. But it was brilliant blue fire on my finger. I didn't look up at him. "Why don't you just MAKE me give you the answer you want?"

"Make you?"

"You can hypnotize me and make me do anything!" I accused.

"I've never MADE you do anything!" he said sincerely. "I help you relax and sleep and feel good. I try to help you feel... wanted... needed. Because I want and need you desperately, Riya! I play some games with you during sex, because I know you like it! I try to help you feel confident and secure. But I swear to God... I've never made you do anything you didn't want to!"

"You orchestrated what happened with Billy tonight!"

He was beside me now, his naked body touching mine. He put his arm around me, and I pulled away from him for just a second before giving in to my innermost desires and settling into his shoulder. I sighed and looked at the ring again.

"I asked you to help me with my plan," he said. "I admit that it was a little... unorthodox." He was quiet for a few seconds after I'd grunted a sarcastic laugh. "But if you had objected, I wouldn't have made you go through with it. You know that."

"And you know that I would never refuse you anything," I countered softly.

He sighed. "Yes. I know that." He was silent for a long time. "Was it really so bad, Riya?"

I kicked him in the leg, but the water dulled the action. He looked genuinely shocked. "Oooo! You stupid idiot!" I said loudly. When I realized he still didn't have a clue, I had to make a quick choice whether or not to explain it to him. But... I could have no secrets from him. "Tony, don't you see? It wasn't bad at all! It was really good! That's the problem!"

And THAT shocked him. "Oh," he said dully. "Do you...?" He was silent for awhile. "I mean... uh... do you... um... want to... I mean... with him...?"

I relented. My man, the crazy fool, needed his ego stroked. "You are my one and only, Tony. I don't want Billy... or anyone else. Ever. I love you. That's why it hurts so much."

He seemed to get a little more of that mafia family confidence back. "Tell me about it, babe."

I laughed at that. "You want me tell you how your mate shagged your Sheila," I asked indignantly, trying to duplicate Billy's drawl.

"Sheila is an Australian term, not British," he explained. "Billy would never say 'Sheila.' And I want you to tell me everything... everything that happened tonight. I've hardly seen you all evening. Start with going to pick up Betty. Tell me."

He had his arm around me, and I turned, facing away from him, while I stretched my legs out and rested them on the built-in bench in the hot tub. I settled my back into his body and he idly began running his fingertips all around my right breast. I DID want to tell him what had happened to me, and the thought crossed my mind that he might have conditioned me for this... to comply... to give in to his suggestion. I took a deep breath, which was more of a sigh of resignation. And I told him. I told him everything. Every little thing.

********

"When you woke me up from my pleasant hypnotic 'nap' this afternoon," I told him, "I took the sheets of paper you'd given me and I folded the stack into quarters so I could fit it into my purse. I had to leave early so that I could go by the dress shop, so I kissed you goodbye and I did my errands and I got to her apartment right on time. I knew the dress would fit her, because I'd tried it on myself, and it was just a wee bit small on me, so I knew it would be perfect on her. And we've traded shoes, even in high school, and so I knew those would fit her, too.

"Her furniture arrived today, so the place was still a mess. And Tony, she has so LITTLE stuff! I mean, with her looks, she should have a kingdom at her feet! She should be the crown princess of some country! But all she has to her name is a cheap bed and dresser and couch and dinette set. All of her clothes were in one box! How can she be so poor and look like THAT?! I mean, it's not as if she's stupid or anything. She's really, really bright! Smarter than I am about a lot of things!

"So anyway, I KNEW that she'd protest about the dress, but I made her try it on, and it WAS perfect! And I knew that she'd hate the shoes because the heels were so high, but they were perfect, too, and she knew it. She really looked hot, but you already knew that, because you saw her when you hypnotized her later during the party. Anyway, she didn't want to go the party, because she'd already been to one here last weekend; but I convinced her that her paperwork was all complete now, and as an employee, she was expected to attend. I also explained to her that she'd finally be able to meet Billy tonight, and that she was still in the running for the spot as his personal executive assistant, so she HAD to go.

"As soon as we arrived, I shoved a tall glass of vodka and cranberry into her hand. I KNEW how cranberry juice affected her, and I gave her another tall glass when that one was empty. Within an hour of arriving, she was asking for a bathroom; so I walked her over to the west wing staircase and pointed, and up she went. I waited for a minute before following, feeling like a spy creeping around my own house. I spotted her in the hall, but she was at the wrong door. Something was holding her attention, and I ducked out of sight before she could look back. Finally, I took another peek, and she had moved down the hall and was trying the door to Billy's apartment... and then she was inside. I snuck down and listened at the door for a minute, and I heard her scream... and I almost said 'to hell with your plan' and I wanted SO much to rush in and explain things... but she didn't scream again or anything, so I figured that maybe you were right. Maybe this WAS the way.

"So... I went back down to the party. But I really couldn't give it any attention as hostess or anything. I saw you across the room once or twice, but I could never make my way over to you. I was on pins and needles, watching the clock until another 45 minutes had passed (according to your 'plan'), and then I almost sprinted back upstairs and I barged right in on them. I wouldn't quite call them 'lovey-dovey' or anything, but they were definitely very friendly... and maybe just a bit more so. She was genuinely taken with his speech... the idiom and slang, and she was giggling more than I've seen her do in years. She was... comfortable. She'd lay a hand on his arm when she was making a point, and she'd tend to leave it there after that point was made. And Billy, of course, was nervous and shy and smitten.

"Well, just as you told me to do, I ordered Betty to go downstairs and talk to you. She REALLY didn't want to go. She REALLY wanted to stay with Billy and talk... and, I think, just BE with him. But, of course, she didn't deny me. She's never denied me anything... in her whole life. And so, away she went. And Billy and I were alone.

"I wanted to just get on with it... to get on with your plan... but Billy went to his computer and watched. He had the security network pulled up, of course. He could see the party downstairs, and everybody there. He clicked around a bit, from view to view, until he spotted her, and he followed her as she made her way over to you, changing cameras to get the best view of her. We watched together as she spoke to you... and as you spoke to her. We couldn't hear anything, of course, but I could almost figure out what was going on. She argued... she listened... she talked... and finally, she gave up. I could tell when that happened... I could see it in her eyes. And then her eyes began to blink and close; and I could see her sort of fight it. I don't know what you said to her... how you had gotten her to go along with this... but it was obvious that she'd agreed to it; because she nodded, and all the fight just drained out of her, and she just surrendered to you. Her eyes closed and she leaned into your arms, and she was out cold.

"Billy made a sound of startled protest, but he didn't comment. He just watched. We saw her eyes open, and she nodded and looked up at you, and you snapped your fingers and she was out again, as if you had turned off a light switch. It happened again... and again, and slowly, a small crowd was forming around the two of you. You were talking to the crowd now, not just her; but you kept waking her up, then snapping your fingers and gathering her into your arms as she'd slump back into sleep. Now everybody in the room was watching, and after you'd done that another dozen times, you made her stand up and face everybody. I know that she's horribly shy, but she seemed to be okay talking to everyone. I have no idea what she was saying to them. She looked at you and shook her head once or twice; and then she seemed to be struggling within herself; but then she reached behind the back of her neck, untied the halter and bared her chest to everyone in the room.

"Billy leaped to his feet, his fists clenched, but he still seemed incapable of comment. He just watched the monitor. I couldn't help but look down at him. He was hard. And Tony... he was big! I... I never even thought about it before. In all this time... in all these months, I've never even considered anything... sexual... about Billy. Of course, Betty must have that effect on every guy, I suppose. It would only make sense that she would make Billy hard, too; especially with her standing topless in front of a crowded room.

"It only got worse when you just left her standing there and hypnotized Belinda Garcia from accounting... and then got her to take off her blouse and bra, too. And Belinda started stroking and sucking on Betty's nipples. And then you made them kiss like lovers or something. How did you get Betty to just STAND there and let that happen? I can't imagine that she'd ever WANT something like that. Belinda, I can see... everybody knows she's an A-number-one slut! But BETTY?! Anyway, after you had them both dress themselves again, and after you'd awakened them and things got back to normal, Billy was trying to calm himself. He was breathing pretty hard. And speaking of hard... he still was; but I kept my eyes on his face as much as I could, only glancing down when he'd turned his face away from me.

"But I recognized that now was the time. It was now or never. So I turned off the monitors and started gently explaining to him that his chances of scoring with Betty... or any girl, for that matter... would be greatly improved if he could just find a way to me more aggressive around the opposite sex. I patiently told him that I thought I could help him with that. I mentioned how you had helped me interact better with those around me by using hypnosis; and I told him that I thought there was a good chance I could help him the same way.




Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 01



"I think he sort of talked himself into it. He mentioned to me that you had already made the offer, but he didn't feel right about surrendering emotionally to another guy. You men are so weird that way. But after awhile, he didn't seem to find any problems with surrendering emotionally to ME. I did just what you told me to do. I called up the spinning spiral on one of the computers, like you showed me; and I sat him down in a comfortable chair facing it. I stood behind him and began telling him to relax; and eventually, I began massaging his shoulders and whispering my suggestions close to his ear. His shoulders and arms are SO broad and strong! I mean, I see how big he is every day, but I had never touched him in that way before, and I hadn't realized that he's all muscle! As far as the induction itself, it seemed to be almost second nature, talking to him in that way; and it dawned on me that you must have coached me on what to do and say while you had me under hypnosis earlier today. That didn't bother me or anything, though. Once again, you had used my trance to help me... to bolster my confidence in this. Subconsciously, I knew that I would never have been able to pull it off if you hadn't prepped me for it.

"It took longer than I thought it would, but eventually, his head fell forward onto his broad chest, and I knew he was out. I kept talking to him, telling him to go deeper for me; that by following my voice deeper, he would eventually become stronger emotionally, like he wanted. And while I told him this, I found my purse and retrieved the sheets of paper with your notes. It was easy after that. I just read what you had written. I read it all the way through three times, just like you said. The first time, I was just reading... not really paying attention to what I was saying. I DID notice that at the end of each reading, there was a long paragraph that made him go even deeper... deeper each time. By the end of the last time through, I understood what you were doing... or rather, what I was doing by reading your words. About how, if a girl showed interest in HIM, and if he liked her... wanted her... he should not feel reluctance to make a pass; that very often, girls expected a guy to. I'm not sure that's right, but the way... instilling quite THAT degree of sexual aggression, I mean. But you had tempered it by telling him (I mean... by having ME tell him) that if a girl ever, ever told him no, or to stop, that he should immediately back off and respect her wishes. 

"After it was over... after the third reading... I got him ready to wake up. I turned off the computer monitors again, and I got another chair and put it next to him, swiveling them so that we were facing each other. And I told him that I'd count to three... just the way you count when you wake me up each time. And then I did. And then... he attacked me.

"Before I even knew what was happening, he'd stood and plucked me out of that chair as if he were snatching up a rag doll. I was shocked by so many different things all at the same time. You would not BELIEVE how strong he is! It became immediately apparent that there is absolutely no way... no conceivable way... that any girl could possibly fight him off physically. By the time my mind comprehended what was happening, he had spun me around like a toy so that my back was against his chest. One of his hands was against my stomach, and the other was pawing my breasts. You know how big his hand are... how strong they are!

"And finally, finally, coherent thoughts started popping into my head... but once they were in there, they started tripping over each other and piling up in a heap! The first and foremost was that I had done this! I had done this to him! I had TOLD him that if a girl showed interest, it was okay to make a pass at her. Why hadn't I SEEN it? I was the only girl he had been around for months! It would make SENSE if he mistook that for 'interest!' All I had to do was tell him no. That's all it would take; just one little word. But I'd just spent the better part of an hour building him up for this! Was I now going to cut his confidence off at the knees? What would that DO to him psychologically?

"I heard a zipper and felt my dress loosen. And then suddenly, my arms were above my head. He had put them there... with a power that defied any kind of resistance. And just like that, the dress was over my head and gone! I KNOW I was making noises... uttering words... but they were all meaningless. I'd exclaim 'Billy!' or I'd gasp or I'd moan or maybe whimper. But I didn't say 'no.' After what I'd done to him to lead up to this moment, I couldn't bring myself to do that to him.

"He tried to work the latch on my bra, but then he pulled with both hands; and the way it sounded when it let go, I knew it was ruined beyond repair. He grunted in irritation, and with the flick of a wrist, he sent the undergarment sailing halfway across the room, where it landed, draped across the rim of the trash can, hung on for a moment, and slid inside. Gone. Just like that. His hands were back at my waist, and they slid down down down, and my panties were at my ankles. I'd taken off my shoes earlier... I ALWAYS take off my shoes in a room I intend staying in for awhile... and so I was naked... totally naked... in his arms.

"Such power! Such raw physical strength! When his arms went around me again, I put my own on his arms... and oh, those arms were moving! One hand was on my left breast now, massaging gently; then it would flatten against the front of it and slowly drag downward across the nipple. The other big paw was at my sex, between my legs. Almost tenderly, it applied pressure until my legs parted. How could a geek who never went outside of his home laboratory have such rough-feeling hands? And how could his palm scrape so lovingly and for such a long time across my clitoris. I couldn't stop the moan from escaping my lips. And then, his palm did exactly the same thing again; but this time, it was slick and wet... and it was a huge shock to realize that that moisture had come from ME!

"And for the first time, I had to ask myself: Do I WANT this? Is THAT why I'm not telling him 'no?' I panted and tried to understand it, but he had shifted breasts, and he was rolling my right nipple between his beefy forefinger and thumb. And his palm went scrrraaaaapppe across my clit again, and I couldn't stop a massive shiver from running through my body. He had pushed my legs wide by this point, his massive palm flat against my sopping vagina, and in my hazy mind, I realized that my feet were no longer on the floor. He had picked me up as if I weighed nothing at all, and he was carrying me with gentle hands under my breast and between my legs... moving us toward the living room and the couch. One of his thick fingers had slid between my pussy lips and inside me. His thumb was on my clit. Another thumb was idly stroking across my nipple.

"I didn't want this! At the very least, I didn't WANT to want this! Too late, I suddenly realized. It's too late. It's coming. There's nothing I can do to stop it now. It's past the point of no return. The orgasm is here. Nothing I can do. But... I don't want it!

"OH!"

"Those big, big hands were against my body, so there was absolutely no way I could possibly hide it from him. He felt the muscles in my tummy and my legs and my cunt and my whole body ripple and flex and clutch and jerk; and so he knew what I'd done... knew what HE had done to me. Since I'd started dating you... since I'd started having sex with you... I have gotten to know my own body; and I've gotten to know my own orgasms. I call this one 'The Roller.' Sometimes, they're sharp and hard; and sometimes they surprise me, coming out of nowhere; and sometimes they build for a long, long time before exploding; and sometimes they seem to shake me violently, like a dog shaking a toy. 'The Roller' is like a wave that gently washes over me as I lie in the sand on the beach... almost quietly, soothingly swamping my entire body... submerging it in blissful pleasure... leaving me sputtering and gasping for breath. I really, really hadn't wanted it. But oh my, it was marvelous!

"And I relaxed back into his arms, floating. He positioned me effortlessly, spreading my body out on the couch; and then he spread my legs apart, and I let him; and I thought to myself: 'When did he remove his clothes?' but I didn't let it worry me, because my mind was sort of drifting in and out; and then he crawled onto the couch himself, between my legs, positioning himself, and I let him do that, too. With a sigh, I reached down and took his cock in my hands, and I stifled my gasp at his size; but I really didn't have much to compare it to, because I had only ever been with you. But it was very, very different: not quite as long, but much bigger in circumference. That's the word that popped into my head: circumference. Typical scientist's word. There must be dozens of words to refer to that in a good porn dictionary. ARE there porn dictionaries? But there was no time left to think about that. There was no time left to think about ANYTHING. Because I had guided him to my pussy, and now he was pushing inside me.

"I only thought one thing after that: He's stretching me! Stretching me! Stretching stretching stretching me! And then his bulk was atop me... big... heavy. And he was inside me... fully totally completely inside me. Stretching me. Would my body ever be the same again? Would my body still please you? 'Oh, Tony!' I thought. 'Oh, my Tony!' But then, Billy was pulling up... pulling out... before pushing pushing pushing back in; stretching stretching. I was making little noises, little sounds. And he went: thrust thrust thrust. Push push push. And I went stretch stretch stretch; and made my incoherent noises. But then he pushed in and stayed; and he stretched me even more, because he was swelling even bigger. And I looked up into his face and I very clearly said: 'Yes, Billy!"

"Sometimes, I can't feel it when you come inside me. Sometimes I can feel you swell up and jerk and shiver. But THIS! Oh, this I could feel! The hot liquid hit the insides of my channel and my cervix and my womb and whatever the hell else there is in there. I felt every hot liquid squirt as if it was fired from a cannon. He strained and pushed and shivered, and I held him tightly until he had finished... and then when he finally stopped, I just went on holding him. After a long time, he rolled off of me toward the couch's back, and he pushed me so that, for a moment, I thought I might fall off. But his big arm was around me, so there was no way I was going to topple over the edge. My back was to him again.

"And he said: 'Cor, Riya. Please tell me y' wanted that.'

"And I said: 'Um... '

"And he said: 'Ah God! Wadda I gone and done?!'

"I stroked his arm affectionately. 'You did what came naturally, I guess. I should have known, Billy. It was my fault. I never realized that... that you wanted me like that.'

"'Wanted you? I've wanted y' since the day I met y', girl!'

"I sighed. I didn't want to hurt him, but anything other than the truth would be worse. 'But you don't love me, Billy. You might have wanted me... this way; but you can't love me. I belong to him. I LOVE him. I'll ALWAYS love him... and only him. I think... I think that I've wanted this, too, a little. Being with you this way. I like you, Billy. I like you a lot. But... but now, we have to make a promise. Two promises.' He didn't answer that, so I went on. 'First, we have to promise each other that we'll never, ever do this again. As much as... as we might want to... this was the only time, okay?' Once again, he made no sound, and so once again I continued. 'And secondly, we can't have any secrets. Secrets can kill a friendship, and I won't allow that to happen. And so, we have to promise that to THEM, too. Okay, Billy?'

"And finally he spoke. 'Them?'

"'Tony and Betty,' I explained.

"'Betty!? I... I only just met Betty!'

"I stroked his arm again. 'And you couldn't tell? You couldn't tell that she's... interested in you?"

"'What... 'ya think?'

"I laughed. 'Yes. I think.'

"'G 'wan!'

"I tried to look back over my shoulder at him. 'Really! I swear. She's my best friend, and I can read her like a book! She really, really likes you! And I could read YOU, too. I think you... rather fancy her.' I tried to sound British and failed. He was quiet for awhile after that, and I assumed he was thinking hard about it. 'But you'd better not hurt her, Billy. She's delicate, fragile... shy.'

"He shifted against me. His cock was stiffening again against my butt, and I suddenly realized it was because he was thinking about HER. 'Fancy 'er!' he repeated disgustedly. 'A COURSE I fancy 'er! But a totty like 'er and ME?!' He was quiet again for a long time. 'So... um... how do I handle 'er?'

"That made me laugh. I stroked his arm again. 'Poor boy! I've created a beast, haven't I?' I giggled suddenly at the thought. 'Billy the Beast!' But he obviously wasn't amused at the moniker. I sighed. 'Just be yourself, Billy. Don't come on strong... and DON'T attack her! If she wants you to be strong, then she'll let you know. Just wait for it. When she gives you the signal that she wants you to be more... physical, you'll know it. I promise.'

"He sighed, but his erection didn't diminish. 'Okay,' he said. 'Agreed.' He was silent for many seconds. 'Guess we should get up.'

"I smiled. 'Okay, then,' I told him. 'But... maybe we could stay like this... just for a few more minutes. This is nice. And then... never again. Right?'

"I felt him nodding against my shoulder. He held me, and I relaxed in his arms. Oh my gosh, what a night! At least I had gotten past the worst part of it. I took a deep breath and relaxed even more. And suddenly, I opened my eyes and YOU were there! You and Betty! Right in front of us! Had I been asleep? Oh no! We'd fallen asleep like that... naked on the couch! I tried to cover myself with my hands before realizing how stupid that was. Betty had seen me naked before... lots of times; from high school gym class in the showers to trying on dresses together. YOU had obviously seen me naked. Why try to hide? Oh, gosh, how embarrassing! And Betty blushed beet red and turned away... not because I was naked, but because HE was!"

********

And that's what I told Tony, sitting there in the hot tub, nude, with that ring on my finger, sparkling like the brightest star in the universe. He had moved once or twice during my narration; to turn the jets in the Jacuzzi down to a soft bubbling, so that he could hear me better; and he held me closer to him, which I didn't resist; and he brushed his fingertips across my erect nipples; and then later, he slid a hand gently up my thigh.

When I had finally finished, I took stock of how we were sitting, and glancing down, I said: "I KNEW it, Tony! You just wanted me to tell you all that so you could get turned on! You're hard as a rock!"

He slid the hand just a little bit farther up my thigh, and suddenly his finger was in my slick pussy. "And you, too, my darling. You're sopping wet."

I couldn't help but jerk and shiver at the contact. "Of... of COURSE I'm wet, you fool! I'm in a hot tub!" But we both knew better. I was slippery-oily-gooey inside.

He pulled the finger out of me, and I made a little noise in the back of my throat in protest. But then, he turned toward me and grasped me by the backs of my knees, lifting me up and spinning me over him so that my legs were astraddle him. He scooted his butt forward on the built-in plastic bench and leaned back so that his fleshy rod was lined up with my opening. I started to fight him, putting my hands on his shoulders; but then I felt him entering me. He was sooo long and sooo hard, but he slipped right in, and up and up and up into me. I felt clean and sexy and feminine. But how could I feel that way and be so slimy-slick inside? And at last, we were completely joined. We... fit.

Let me tell you how we fit. Physically, we fit like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, when part of one piece goes flawlessly into the other. Tight. Secure. Perfect. Emotionally, I fit inside of him... all of me, flowing naturally and effortlessly into his protective, loving strength. I was part of him, wholly contained. And as for our souls; they were like the smoke from two fires, rising above the earth and mingling into a single plume.

He thrust into me; once, twice, again and again. The ridge of his pubis was grinding against my clitoris with each plunge of his cock. I was beginning to build, up and up. He was swelling inside me. And with each fervent thrust, he would grind against me. My muscles began to tighten and strain. Remember my orgasm types? This one was going to be "The Explosion," no doubt about it. This was going to be one of the big ones. Almost there. Almost there.

And just as I was reaching that magical instant when anticipation turned into inevitability, he leaned forward and whispered into my ear: "Answer me!"

And my vagina gave its first twitch and spasm. And I said "W... w... what?"

And he breathed directly into my ear: "Will you marry me, Riya?"

So anyway, what happens during "The Explosion" is: all of my muscles are straining, straining, tighter and tighter, like rubber bands that have been stretched much, much too far. And then suddenly, my body goes "boom!" and all of those muscles break free. But at the same instant, another set of muscles clench and strain. And I don't know... maybe they're actually the same muscles... but that's what it feels like. And so:

Boom! And I threw my head back and screamed "YES!" at the top of my lungs.

(And... pardon me for taking time out for a quick geography lesson at this most auspicious point in my story. But... The house rose two stories on either side of us, forming a sort of convoluted "V" in front of me. And beyond us, behind me as I sat on his lap, past the tub and the pool... the grassy yard slopped gently down and down to a little creek. And beyond that creek, a hill rose sharp and steep; so steep that in some places, vegetation wouldn't grow, and red clay soil showed through. I only tell you this to explain the acoustics.)

And now, all my muscles were straining to the point of cramps; my fingers digging into his shoulders, my arms trying to crush him, my legs clenched and my knees digging into the sides of his buttocks, and even my toes were gripping and tight. I couldn't even breathe. And he was straining, too; his arms squeezing me hard; his cock jerking and twitching inside me. And both of our heads were thrown back, staring into the starry heavens. The crickets and cicadas were silent for a moment, probably because of my scream. And the only sounds were the gentle bubbling of the tub... and my unintended answer coming back to us over and over.

"YES!... Yes!... Yes!... yes!... yes... yes"

TO BE CONTINUED



Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 02



The Beast

Okay, so here's what really upsets me. If a guy refers to some other guy as naïve, or innocent, or gullible; well, that's derogatory, right? There's no way any of that would be viewed in a good light personally. But if he's saying it about a girl... well, that's a whole different ballgame. Those traits in a woman... especially a pretty woman... turn men on; make them hard; make them aggressive; appeal to them.

I've had that problem my whole life. I'm too trusting, too quick to agree, too easily talked into things. I guess I learned from my many mistakes in judgment... but the price I paid for that knowledge was very, very high. Eventually, I became a recluse at the ripe old age of twenty-one... never trusting a man... or another woman, for that matter. Women tend to display a wee bit of jealousy around me. And I don't know why. I'm not a threat to them!

In all of my life, only one person has seen me for something other than a sex object or menace. Only one person has ever seen me for... me. And that, of course, was Riya. In high school, we were inseparable. But then she deserted me and left Baltimore for Cambridge. Oh, gosh, I was crushed. I ran right out and joined some new-fangled church... I guess it was really a cult. Riya saved me, actually dragging the sheriff, the FBI and a news crew out to the compound, threatening to charge them with kidnapping and plastering it all over the internet if they refused to let her take me home. I had been introduced to sex while I was with them, of course, along with some forms of "physical coercion" that they reserved for girls who tried to escape their clutches. But she saved me! And it wasn't the last time. There was another "cultish" church a year later... but I saw through their little act... after a couple of their "elders" had drugged and had their way with me. I swore off churches. Being lonely is better than THAT! 

In college I was seduced by an assistant prof, and I even moved in with him for a week. It happened again with a student my senior year. The first little fling ended with a broken jaw (it STILL hurts a little if I chew tough food a certain way). And in the second case, the guy REALLY got rough. No broken bones that time, but I was in a coma for a few days. Riya came home (again), sat with me until I woke up, and then made me press charges, even though I kept telling her it was probably all my fault. (I told her that I should have KNOWN not to upset him while he was drunk. That's just the kind of person he is. Well, the kind of person he WAS. He's in jail now. He got off with probation in my case, but the next girl DID have broken bones.) Oh, man; I can pick 'em, can't I?

So anyway, after that, Riya and I made a pact. No dating. She had her studies, and I had... my little problem. And so, every Friday night... every single Friday... we got on the computer and video-conferenced. It's all I ever looked forward to in life. Period. She was all I had. She was my everything.

When she didn't finish the doctorate, I was absolutely floored. She'd published some academic paper, and evidently some dude saw it and wanted her to join "his team." And so, away she went... to North Friggin' Carolina! How could she DO that to me?! I was still stuck in the same auto distribution company office in Baltimore that I'd been in for three years. During an "economic downturn," my position as area research manager had been eliminated. They'd offered me a secretarial position as an "interim" spot until they could reinstate me to management. But when things got better, others were moved back up... that is to say, the MEN moved back up... but I did not. And every day was the same... the same parade of customers... the same sorts of guys, hounding me, asking me out, flirting. Riya and I still talked every week. I was happy for her. Really. She'd finally found a guy... someone she genuinely liked and respected. And loved. I saw it in her eyes, even on the video calls. My Riya was in love! But I was stuck. Alone.

And then, one day, out of the blue, she walked into the office. I squealed and hugged her, and I was so excited I couldn't stay still! We hadn't been together... really together... in eight months, since the last Christmas break period. The first thing she asked me was which office my boss worked in. And then she marched me right in.

"Hi there!" She said, smiling brightly. "Betty is quitting! Sorry for the short notice. She's had a better offer. You can keep her last paycheck!"

Mr. Morehead (who had made several passes at me over the past year... some of which were quite physical, despite his being married) protested rather vehemently. As a final bit of persuasion not to leave, he showed me a letter from the head of the company which offered to reinstate me to my former position. But when I noticed that it was dated nine months before, I got mad and started crying. And I allowed Riya to lead me out of there. Forever.

She had arranged for movers, she told me... for the next day! We went out that night and got drunk, and we talked and talked and talked. In my apartment, we shared the single bed... though we both wore nightgowns, of course. No hanky panky. We weren't "that way," though we each swore that we were "tolerant people." Oh, gosh, I was on cloud nine! Leaving Baltimore! Leaving my horrible "stuck" life! And once again, my savior was my best friend. We threw the entirety of my life's accumulations into seven large cardboard boxes (four of which contained only books). The movers came, and within thirty minutes, the apartment was empty. Only then did I realize that all the cleaning supplies... even the broom... had departed, and there was no way to clean. But she dragged me down to the super's apartment and struck a deal with him to clean it, counting out four one hundred dollar bills. And then she led me out to her little red sports car, and off we went!

It should have only been a five hour drive, but Washington traffic was horrid! We stopped at a motel in Fredericksburg that had a restaurant, and we split a bottle of wine and had hamburgers and French fries, and then we split a piece of Boston Cream Pie with coffee and Kahlua. She told me that her boy friend (who owned half the company!) had promised to hire me "in any capacity where I might fit." She'd already arranged for an apartment near one of the universities, and she said she would introduce me to people during a party on Friday... which was just two days away. There were lots of parties, she told me. This one was for a prospective customer... meaning a major computer manufacturing firm (in this case from Japan). And, there was to be an employee party the NEXT Friday.

When we arrived in the Durham area, she bought me an air mattress and some sheets, blankets and pillows, so I'd have a place to sleep in my new apartment before my stuff arrived. I was forced to admit that North Friggin' Carolina was a pretty place to live. There were more pines than there were in eastern Maryland; and lots of hardwoods, too. Everything was so green! That night, she introduced me to Tony, her boyfriend. Nice guy, though I was a little surprised to think of him as her "type." But the thing that convinced me that everything was going to be alright was how he treated her. He was obviously head over heels, and it cheered my heart to see her with someone that truly loved her. The day after that, I went in and did administrative stuff. You know... filling out forms, getting my security badge... things like that. I still didn't have a position to apply for, but Riya had let everyone know that that would be decided later. The people all seemed nice, but they were still pretty predictable around me... the guys flirted and the gals looked at me with a little mistrust in their eyes. Some things never change.

And that evening was the party at the big mansion for the client. It was nice the way Tony had it all set up. He had hired a bus that went all around the area and picked up the company people that needed to attend... you know, like the marketing folks, the sales manager, key R&D people, etcetera. That way, nobody would have to worry about drinking and driving. Riya came over and picked me up. She'd gotten me a dress and some shoes to wear for the evening, since my stuff hadn't arrived yet. I soon figured out that I was to be window dressing for the event. I didn't mind... not really. I tried to tolerate the men who stood too close; and while I did NOT tolerate the four different hands that caressed my butt, I never made a scene about it. I got tired of smiling. And in the end, I was very happy when the bus took us all back home.

The following week, I interviewed with several of the managers for executive assistant positions. One or two were sort of lecherous, and I was surprised when one female director showed obvious sexual interest. Riya mentioned several times about interviewing with the other owner of the company, William Smythe (whom she only referred to as "Billy"), but I hadn't met him yet. I picked up a few tidbits of gossip about him around the cafeteria and waiting rooms from some of the secretaries. None of them had ever actually seen the man, and a few expressed doubts that he even existed. Smythe was supposedly the brains behind the invention that launched the firm. "Quantum computing," they called it. I asked Riya about the rumors later in the week.

"Oh, yes," she said, laughing. "Billy exists alright! He's become one of my best friends here. You're just going to love him!" And so, I let the topic drop.

On that next Friday, I called Riya and tried to beg out of the employee party, but she told me that would be extremely bad form. And once again, I didn't argue. She had gone to SO much trouble to get me this job (whatever the job ended up being), and I didn't want to appear ungrateful. I was awfully tired, though, and my things were scheduled to arrive that day. Also... I sort of dreaded wearing that skimpy little dress from the previous week's party, knowing that I'd be feeling more paws on my derriere before the evening was over. Riya picked me up again... and she'd brought ANOTHER dress; this one bearing an awfully fancy label. It must have cost a fortune! But it was, if anything, even more daring than its predecessor. The matching shoes sported four-inch heels... something that I was NOT comfortable in. It all fit perfectly. Riya was especially excited by my wearing it. And so, off we went.

The party was in full swing when we got there. The booze was flowing, and everyone was having a great time. Riya handed me a tall cranberry cocktail, and I was so nervous that I drank it down pretty quickly. I started feeling the effects of it, and went in search of hors devours. They helped a little, but made me thirsty; and before I knew it, there was another drink in my hand. People were nice, overall... even the letches. The woman who had interviewed me earlier in the week took me aside and made some small talk before asking me the question that I'd half expected. She was very nervous, and I think I did a pretty good job of letting her down easy; telling her that I was flattered, but that I didn't go in for relationships like that... but I truly wished her luck in finding someone who did. She held my hand (just a little too long) and thanked me, before going off to stalk the new girl in the secretarial pool.

By now, I had regretted drinking the two tall cocktails. I really needed to pee; and as if by magic, Riya was at my side. She led me across the lobby and pointed up the far staircase. Third door, she said. Can't miss it. I hurried up as fast as my wobbly heels would allow, but when I got to the top and looked down the short hallway of closed doors, I couldn't remember if she had told me it was on the left or right. Also, a couple of the doors obviously went to closets, and I didn't know if those were supposed to count. I approached the third door on the left and listened. I thought I heard a noise, so I knocked lightly. When no one said anything, I cracked it open and peeked inside. It was a bedroom. There was a man sprawled on his back in the center of a queen-sized bed, and the naked woman who was straddling him was moaning so loudly that it was no wonder they hadn't heard my knock. I watched them for several long moments until my guilt (and the urgent need to relieve myself) drove me to softly close the door and continue my search.

I tapped again on the door across the hall. Again there was no response, so I took a deep breath and opened it, ready for just about anything. It was a living room of some sort. Did bathrooms in mansions have sitting rooms outside of them? My need drove me to explore further, so I went in and let the door close softly behind me. There was light coming from an inner doorway (with an open door) to my left, and I tentatively wandered in that direction. When I finally reached it, I looked in and observed a very odd sight. It was a big room... really big... with one wall covered entirely with full bookcases. The other three walls were completely covered in white dry-erase boards, and there was odd mathematical scribbling everywhere I looked. In the center of the room were four desks, which all faced each other, each with a computer monitor, so that four people could work simultaneously, I guess. But only one man was there... a BIG man, sitting with his back to me.

"Excuse me," I said. "Can I use your...?" And he turned toward me.

He turned to his right to do this (that's sort of important in my narrative); and immediately, I took a step back, away from him. My mouth was open because I was in the process of asking him a question, and it stayed open. I can remember thinking to myself: He's wearing a mask. Why is he wearing a mask? But then a couple little things began to register in my brain. This mask made his head look huge... and it only had one eye, right in the middle of the forehead. And... the mask had no mouth whatsoever... and... no nose, either. In fact, the only thing that WAS on the mask, other than the single bulging eye, was an ear that looked too small, and was positioned generally where the right cheek should be. And then that one eye... that single huge eye... blinked. And I realized that there was no mask at all.

I screamed.

Okay, let's talk about screams. When people write a scream, it's usually "Eeeek!" or something ridiculously similar. In my case, a scream should probably be spelled: "Mwuaaaah!" only in the key of G, and as far right as you can go on the keyboard. I took another step backward, but my right heel slipped on the hardwood floor, my feet both jackknifed out in front of me, and I fell hard on my ass. Now he was moving toward me. He was just a wee bit shorter than I would describe a "giant"... at first guess, I'd say maybe six-six and well over 250 pounds. I tried to use my feet to scoot back along the floor away from him, but my heels could find no traction. His hands were coming up from his sides, toward me... and he said: "Cor, girl! 'Y okay?"

I took a breath. It was the first one since the scream, and it was nowhere near adequate to return the required amount of oxygen to my system. And so, I began to pant. Every part of me was tingling as if I'd just stuck my finger in an electrical outlet. I raised a single hand toward him, palm outward, and he abruptly stopped his advance. Still gasping, I rolled to my left until I could get my knees under me. I was looking at the floor, trying to get my breath back, swaying slightly on my hands and knees, and I finally decided to attempt speech. "H... H... How... How... How...?"

And the man without a mouth said: "Crikey, love. Take a breath! How how how WHAT?"

I gulped and managed to inhale deeply. I forced myself to look up at him so that he could see that I didn't appreciate his sarcasm. "How are you talking?" I asked firmly.

"Ah. That. Sorry," he said. And he turned his face further to the right.

Immediately, it all became apparent. I'd only been seeing half of his face. Most of what was supposed to be on a face was on the left half. There was the other eye... but it was substantially smaller than the right one, and it was about two inches lower that its mate. The nose was there, but it was immensely broad, stretching from the center of his face to his left cheek. And there was his mouth, too, but it was so far to the left that it was practically against his shoulder. The mouth was actually of average size... but because his head was about fifty percent larger than a normal head, it appeared to be abnormally small. And the line of the mouth wasn't parallel to the floor... it was canted at about a twenty degree angle to the left.

Now remember, I was on my hands and knees, looking sideways up at him. I studied him for several long seconds, and then looked back down. "Your right eye is dominant," I observed. That made sense to me. His eyes were spaced so far apart that he couldn't focus both of them on something at the same time. That's why he'd only been displaying one profile.

I had to look back up when he began making sharp, grunting sounds, and it took me a moment to realize that he was laughing. "Blimey, girl! I've 'erd a few comments about m' looks in m' day, but that's the first time anyone's ever said THAT!"

I took a deep breath and ignored him. I got my left foot under me so I could stand, but the damned heel was too high, and I twisted my ankle. My body jerked around when I accomplished that little maneuver, and I wound up sitting on my ass again with my legs in his direction and they were splayed apart. He twisted his head back to the left a little, and his larger, goggling eye widened even further in shock. He was blushing, and I realized that he couldn't look at me without seeing directly up my skirt. I allowed my shoulders to slump in resignation, and I burst into tears.

That REALLY had an impact on him. He closed his eyes and moved slightly away before opening them again and once more giving me a view of his deformed left profile. "Eer, now! Don't do that! Please, don't cry like that, Betty! I couldn't stand if it you... "

"I peed!" I sobbed.

He blinked. "Wot?"

I tried to corral my crying without results. "I peed," I told him between sniffs. "I came in looking for a bathroom, because I had to go so badly. I STILL have to go! Do you have one I can use?"

And he said something like "Lewsorer," and moved his left shoulder a little.

I studied his face carefully, and the thing I remember most vividly about that moment is that he was studying my face... not my crotch, but my face. I said: "What?"

"Loo's over there," he jerked a thumb this time, indicating a door. When I didn't reply immediately, he said in slow, Americanized English: "The water closet. The toilet. The Bath Room."

"Don't make fun of me!" I barked. "I'm trying really hard here!" And he shrank back away from me a little. I tried to get my right foot under me, but again the heel slipped on the slick floor.

Suddenly, he reached for one of my feet; and I said urgently: "Don't!" Yet again, he shrank away from me, this time with real emotional pain lining his face around his eyes. My heart went out to him, and I let my shoulders slump again. "I don't want you to get your hands wet," I explained softly. "There's a puddle." I took a shaky breath. "Oh, I can't BELIEVE I did this! I'm SO embarrassed!"

Before I could do anything else, he'd dropped to his knees and he was unbuckling the accursed shoes, setting them aside when they were off. Then, he stood and offered me a hand, which I took gratefully and let him help me to my feet. He continued to hold it as he led me to the door of the bathroom. "Thank you," I said softly, smiling shyly up at his face. And I went in and closed the door.

Once inside, I stripped out of the dress and quickly relieved myself. Then I peeled off my soaked panties from my ankles; and not knowing what else to do with them, I wrapped them in tissues and threw them in the trash can under the sink. Of course, there was no bra with this outfit, and so now I was completely nude. I found a washcloth and cleaned myself, then I set to work on the dress. It was massively stained on the back, and smelled strongly of urine. I washed it out... at least the bottom half of it, using soap from the hand dispenser... over and over, and then tried to wring it out as best as I could. I found a huge, soft towel in a cabinet and wrapped it securely around me, tucking the thing tightly into itself just above my breasts. I opened the door and found him kneeling where I had previously sat on the floor, rubbing the hardwood with another towel. When he heard the door, he stood, shifting nervously. He appeared very startled by my appearance, and he couldn't keep from raking my body with his eyes... though he was obviously trying hard not to. I somehow found that kind of cute.




Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 02



"Do you have a hair dryer?" I asked him, before realizing my mistake. He was completely bald. He blinked at me. "Do you think you can find one?" I persisted.

"I... um... 'Ere may be one in one of the bedrooms down th' 'all."

"Could you go look for me, please?"

He glanced nervously toward the door I'd entered from. "I... um... Yeah. Okay." He began to walk slowly in that direction.

"Wait!" I urged. He turned back while I asked: "How did you know my name?"

"You're Riya's friend, ain't cha? You were at th' party last week."

I tried to figure that one out. "Were you there?" I asked him. But he only smiled... rather sadly, I thought... and started for the door again. Startled, I blurted: "You're Billy, right?"

He looked back at me. "Yeah. I'm Billy. How d' y' do." And he was gone.

I went back to work on the dress, rubbing and patting the wrinkles out with another towel. I was immensely distracted from my chore by my thoughts. I had a hundred questions, but I didn't want to ask any of them to HIM; at least, not right now. A few minutes later, he was back with a hair drier.

"Found one in the loo down the 'all," he muttered, handing it to me. I reached out and took it, but before he could let go, I had laid my other hand on his.

"Billy! You're trembling! What's the matter?"

He released the dryer and snatched his hand away. "Nuthin'. I'm fine, thanks."

I studied him carefully. At long last, I realized what I'd done wrong. "Oh. You don't go out. You never leave these rooms, do you? You never let anyone SEE you!" He took a step back and shuffled his feet. I dropped the device onto a chair and advanced the step he had retreated. As I reached out and laid both my hands on his arms, he suddenly took on the countenance of a startled rabbit.

But before he could bolt away, I said gently: "Oh, Billy... I'm SO sorry for all of this! I invaded your sanctuary and turned your whole evening upside down! I've been horrible, imposing on you, and asking you to help me, and sending you out, and... "

"Cor, blimey, Betty! Stop! Everythin's fine! I'm glad I could 'elp."

I tried to give him my sweetest smile. "Well... thank you." I picked up the hair dryer and eventually found a place to plug it in. I had draped the dress over the back of a chair, and when the dryer roared to life, it killed conversation for several minutes.

At last, I turned it off and picked up the garment to examine it. I held it out to him. "Do you smell anything?"

He dutifully sniffed it. "Naw. It's fine."

I gave him another smile before taking it into the bathroom and putting it back on. I primped a little in front of the mirror, but because I'd left my purse downstairs, there was little I could do. I glanced at the door, wondering. Why was I so nervous? I went out and held out my arms, letting him inspect me. "What do you think?" I asked.

"Good as new," he declared. He turned a little to the right and let me see his smile. We stood, staring at each other. I had returned that smile, and now it just seemed to fix itself as a permanent resident on my face. He shifted nervously, obviously trying to think of something to say. Finally he muttered: "So... I guess yer gonna give Riya what for!"

I kept smiling. "Why?"

He swallowed nervously. "Why, fer not warnin' you about me. About THIS!" He waved a forefinger around in front of him, indicating his face.

I contemplated him for another moment. "Can't you see, Billy? This is the way she wanted it to be. This is the only way it COULD be!"

He blinked at me for a long fifteen seconds before shaking his head slowly. "Sorry. I don't catch yer drift."

I grinned even more. "If she had told me about... that, how do you think I would have felt BEFORE I met you? What emotion do you think I would have had?" His brow creased in thought for a few moments. Finally, he just shook his head, questioningly. So I answered. "I would have felt pity, Billy. Before I ever met you, I would have felt pity toward you. You don't deserve my pity... or ANYONE'S. You deserve respect. And this way... the way she set it up... that's the first emotion I have toward you."

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "... right after the emotion of scarin' the piss outta 'y."

I gasped and fixed him with a stare that contained as much indignation as I could muster before we both burst into laughter. When I finally stopped, I protested "Billy, you can't tell ANYONE what I did, okay?" He rubbed the bottom of his face thoughtfully, as if considering it. "Billy, please! You have to promise me that you'll never... "

"Alright, alright," he laughed. "Yer secret's safe w' me, love, I swear."

"You won't even tell Tony?" I asked, smiling. "You're best friends, right?"

He crossed his heart. "And yeah, 'e's m' mate... but just between you 'n me, 'e can be a bit of a wanker sometimes."

"What's a wanker?"

He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet a little. "Uh... y' know. A tosser... a plonker." I guess my face must have looked pretty blank. Finally, he gave an exasperated grunt. "A bloke who just sits around an'... " He made a fist and pumped it in front of his groin in what I would call a rather... crude gesture.

I felt my cheeks go hot, and I laughed again. Then I sighed. I had so many questions, and when I finally launched into a few of them, he answered readily. About the three walls full of equations, he said: "I don't wanna look at 'em right now. When I do, I start thinkin' in numbers instead o' English. Sort kills a conversation." When I asked about the computers, he showed me that he could tap into several different servers... including the mansion security setup. When I had walked in on him, he had been "monitoring" the party downstairs. That's where he had first seen me, he said... during the previous week's party on the security monitors. And, after I asked, he told me that, no (smiling, while I blushed), he could NOT tap into what was going on in the guest bedroom, across the hall. The cameras were only mounted in the "public areas," such as outside, and the hallways and major rooms downstairs. No bedrooms or bathrooms.

As he flipped through the various cameras, showing me the views, we caught sight of Riya climbing the stairs toward this upper wing. I glanced at him, and he at me, and I could tell that we both wished we had a little more time alone. Bowing to an overwhelming urge, I reached out and gently grasped his upper right arm with both of my hands. "Billy, I... um... I just want to apologize for the way I acted when I saw you... and to thank you again for everything you did." He blinked down at me, obviously trying to read whatever signals I was sending. I wasn't entirely sure what kinds of signals I was TRYING to send. Suddenly, I felt like crying, but I held myself back, and took a shaky breath, instead; then I smile up at him.

"You realize that you had me captive here... in your personal castle. I was a damsel in distress, naked... wrapped in a bath towel, without anywhere to go. And you saved me. You're my hero!"

He cleared his throat. Nervously, he reached up with his free hand and placed it tenderly over mine on his arm, then he slowly led me into the living room, where he plucked a long-stem red rose from an arrangement in a vase and he handed it to me. I took it, smiled, and automatically held it to my nose. "You keep flowers in your apartment?" I asked him.

"Riya put 'em 'ere. Said it'd brighten the place up."

"Thank you." I couldn't keep the blush off my face. And Riya was suddenly there, grinning broadly, looking at the two of us. I considered taking my hand off of his arm, but I didn't.

"You need to go downstairs," she said, looking at me.

"Me? Why? Can't I stay here and talk for a little while?"

She shook her head. The smile never left her lips. "Nope. You're the entertainment. I promised Tony I'd find you and send you right down to him."

"Entertainment?" THAT didn't sound good.

"Yep. I don't think I've ever mentioned it to you, but Tony's an amateur hypnotist. When the parties are small, friendly gatherings, like this one, he sometimes tries it out. People laugh and have fun. He's put me under... lots of times. It's really kind of nice."

I was seriously startled. "Hypnosis? Riya, no way! I'm not going to let him do that! Especially not in front of a crowd of people I've just met!"

She shrugged. "Well, it's your official introduction to the employee group, anyway. You have to go down. Now."

I looked up at Billy, sighed, and gave his arm another affectionate squeeze. "I guess I have to go," told him quietly. "I wish I didn't."

I saw his mouth draw up in a crooked smile. "I 'ereby release you from m' castle," he said formally. "D' y' promise to come back?"

I suddenly had a huge desire to kiss him. (What would it be like?) But he was too tall, and even if I stood on tiptoes, I'd be unable to do it unless he bent down. I realized suddenly that I'd let my smile slip away, and I couldn't keep my eyes from misting. "I promise, Billy."

"Where are your shoes?" Riya asked. And the spell was broken. A minute later, I was walking down the hallway toward the staircase alone. Riya had said she wanted to talk to Billy for a minute... but Tony couldn't wait; I needed to get downstairs right away. I looked down at the rose in my hand. It was the only real link to the surreal thing that had just happened to me. I clutched it more tightly and descended the steps as quickly as my heels would allow. Silently, I hoped that I could get through this administrative ordeal and fulfill my promise to Billy as quickly as possible.

I found Tony in the center of the huge living room (sort of a ballroom, I guess) surrounded by chattering people. As soon as he saw me, however, he said something and everyone sort of scattered, leaving me in sole possession of his attention. "Betty!" he said excitedly. "I'm really glad you're here. I'd like you to help me with this evening's entertainment."

"Yes," I said to him. "Riya told me. I'm sorry, Tony, but I'd rather not."

He looked at me questioningly. "That really saddens me, Betty. Couldn't you try it... just for me? I KNOW that you'd be an excellent subject."

"No," I answered firmly. "I'm sorry, but I don't think so." He looked crestfallen, but shrugged resignedly. "But... Tony," I said, "could you answer a few questions about Billy?"

He seemed to study me carefully. "I never talk to anyone about Billy," he said, almost sternly; but then his brow creased in sudden thought. "Have you... met him?"

"Yes," I said sincerely. "Just now. Upstairs."

A queer look flickered across his features. "If I... talk to you about him, would you help me out here by...?"

I didn't let him finish. "Quid pro quo?" I shook my head. "I don't think so."

I started to turn and leave, but he reached out and grabbed my arm. "I'm sorry, Betty. What do you want to know?"

I regarded him curiously, but he seemed sincere. "Does his condition cause him pain?" I asked.

A smile slowly spread across his features. "Now, that is NOT the first question people usually ask," he said. His face let me know that he believed that little fact to be meaningful. When I didn't respond, he said: "No... he's not in pain... and it's not really a medical condition at all... not like a disease or syndrome."

I nodded, suddenly realizing that this was going to be a game of "twenty questions." He wasn't going to relinquish his answers easily. But that almost made sense... he was being protective of a friend. "Okay," I said patiently. "I guess I'll have to stoop to the common questions, then. What IS wrong with him?"

His faced softened, and he took my hand. "I'm sorry, Betty. You... care about him, don't you?" Again I didn't answer, and he said simply "He has a cleft face."

And THAT threw me for a moment. "I... I've heard about cleft palates," I said, as much to myself as to him. "There are charities... like the 'Smile' one for kids." I puzzled for a brief moment in silence. "Is that what 'Elephant Man' had?"

He gave me a look to let me know that I was now in the realm of "common questions," and that I didn't really know enough to ask something meaningful. Then he shook his head. "Joseph Merrick DID suffer from a medical condition... probably some form of fibromatosis... or something else that caused multiple tumors that led to deformities. However, he wasn't born with them... they developed later in his life. But facial clefts develop in the womb. They're birth defects."

"Is it genetic?" I asked, before realizing that he might read some secondary motivation into the question. Sure enough, he smirked... just slightly. It was enough to upset me, though. "Oh, for goodness sake!" I added harshly. "Just answer me!"

His countenance immediately softened. "Of course, Betty. I'm sorry. I'm not really into medicine, but I've researched it online for obvious reasons." He took a breath. "It's sometimes very difficult to figure out genetic links about things that happen so rarely. Orofacial clefts... that is, clefts in lips or pallet... are, by far, the most common... and they still occur in less than one in a thousand births. It wasn't too long ago that people tried to hide such deformities; and so it's hard to track something that could skip fifty or a hundred generations and still be tied genetically. Make sense? They haven't found specific genetic markers, but they don't really know."

He paused before continuing. "Billy's case is obviously very severe. His is a 'lateral cleft,' that departs from the facial median. That's very rare. He told me that his parents, in England, put him through a lot of dental surgery when he was seven years old. Five operations, at least. He evidently didn't really communicate at all before that; but they sure did a great job, considering all the damage he must have been born with. If you spoke to him upstairs, you know that he can speak normally now... if you can get through the accent. His parents were both laborers in Lambeth, and though I haven't met them, I assume they have pretty thick Cockney accents. They evidently kept him pretty much indoors, away from the taunts and stares of others, and he was primarily self-taught. He had tutors and social workers teaching him, of course. At first, I bet he was too advanced for them to realize that he wasn't stupid. Know what I mean? They'd ask him a question, and he didn't answer right away because he was thinking in terms of the next chapter... or the next book... or the next course. I know everyone was just trying to help him. But, when it came to more reconstructive surgery to correct the other things, he refused outright. I'm not going to tell you about the professors that helped him... or how he came to the U.S... . or how he met ME. You can learn all that later. Okay? I WILL tell you that spending three years in this country has softened his accent considerably. You should have heard him when I first met him!" He looked tenderly at me. "Is there any other question I can answer?"

"Yes. What does 'Cor' mean?"

He threw back his head and laughed. "Damned if I know!"

I nodded. I was hooked. I understood now. I knew what Riya saw in this man. Jeez, he was bright... and helpful, and articulate, and sincere, and yes... handsome. I was happy for her. "Okay," I told him so softly that he had to lean toward me to hear. I sighed. "How can I help you with... the hypnosis thing?"

He smiled hugely. "Really?"

I nodded. If Riya could trust him, then so could I. "Are... Are you going to make me bark like a dog?" I asked.

"You know," he told me calmly, "it just doesn't matter."

I studied his face. "It doesn't?"

"Nope. I am going to put you to sleep, and you're going to go into a very, very pleasant dream-state. I will give you suggestions. And, if you accept those suggestions, you will convince yourself that it's okay to do those things. Everybody that's watching will understand that. They'll know that you are reacting to what I say. And... they'll know that whatever it is that you are doing, it's not your fault... it's not what you would normally do. It'll be ME and not YOU. You are completely blameless in this little production. Does that make sense?"

"Um... I guess." I was a little startled when he took a step closer to me. We were touching now. Both of his hands were on my arms.

"Just relax," he said in a normal voice. "I realize that I'm very close to you right now, but that's for your own good. I don't want you to fall."

"Fall?"

"Yes. Very soon now, you're going to be asleep. Just relax and don't worry about that. I'll catch you when that happens."

"Um... " I didn't know how to respond to that, or what to say. He continued to speak in a normal voice. In fact, his voice was much louder than it was when he had been talking about Billy.

"Close your eyes, please," he continued. "That's it. Very good. Now relax. I can feel the tightness in your arms, and I want to feel them relax now. Yes, perfect. Very good. And now, I want you to tell me... where is it that you feel the most relaxed? Where do you look forward to relaxing?"

"In the bathtub," I said immediately.

"Wonderful. That's a great place to relax. And so, now I want you to relax even more... and I want you to think about being in the bathtub. Completely relaxed and limp all over. And the water is warm and it feels delicious on your skin... and all over your body. And that's all you can feel now... just the water. You feel warm and safe, and you can no longer feel my hands on your arms... "

"They're going to catch me," I said.

"Yes... they'll catch you, but you can't feel them anymore, can you, Betty? Take a deep breath and relax even more in the warm, wonderful water, and tell me... What can you feel?"

"The water. It feels wonderful."

"Excellent," he enthused. "Take one more deeeeep breath for me... that's it... and relax even more. Yes. And in your dream, you open your eyes and look down at yourself in the bathtub... at your lazy, lazy, totally relaxed body. And... what do you see?"

"My nipples are hard, peeking up above the surface," I answered, because they were.

I heard a woman's giggle that was suddenly stifled; but as I puzzled over this, he said: "And can you hear the bathtub tap dripping, Betty? That's all you can hear, here in your wonderful, relaxing bath. That... and the gently sloshing water in the tub. Isn't that so?"

Maybe I'd just imagined the giggle. "Yes," I said.

"And that's all there is in your world now. Just you and the bath. And you're SO relaxed now, that you know you're going to nod off... take a little nap... go to sleep. And there's nothing to keep you from letting this happen, is there? And there's no reason why you shouldn't allow yourself that pleasure. Is there?"

"No."

"And so, when you hear me snap my fingers, you'll give in... and you'll experience the total pleasure of just letting go, and surrendering to sleep. You're so sleepy and relaxed now, that that is what you want the most... more than anything else in the world. Isn't that right."

"Mmmm. Yes."

"Wonderful, Betty. Good girl."

SNAP! I was having a dream now. And that made sense; I'd fallen asleep in the tub. In my dream, I was looking into Tony's eyes. Tony the hypnotist. When I did that, and when he told me to relax and feel tired, it happened. I wasn't really sure WHY it happened... but it did. Every single time. And I fell asleep when he snapped his fingers. Every single time. And I never, ever fell down, because he was always there to catch me. And then, after awhile, he'd count to three, and I'd wake up. It happened a lot. Lots of times. I liked it when he snapped his fingers the most. That's because the feeling I got when I surrendered and fell asleep for him was... good. No, it was great! Better than great... fantastic! The best feeling in the world! Holy cow... I could really get used to THIS feeling! Mmmmm.




Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 02



"One two three." He said it very matter-of-factly, but I dutifully woke up. "How do you feel now, Betty?"

I smiled up at him. "Great! I feel great!" I was mildly surprised to find that everyone in the room was looking at me. "Did I bark like a dog?" I asked. There was a smattering of laughter.

"That doesn't really matter, does it?" Tony responded. 

I blushed a little. "No. People know that it's not my fault."

"Right," he said. He looked very happy with me, and so I felt happy, too. I must have done well. "You are an especially good hypnotic subject," he added, beaming. "You are wonderfully suggestible."

"Um... thank you."

"You're welcome. And now, I'm going to put you to sleep one more time, okay?"

"Okay. Sure."

"And this time," he continued, "you're going to feel an overwhelming compulsion to tell everyone the truth."

"I always tell the truth," I informed him.

"And... you'll continue to be wonderfully suggestible. In fact, there won't be a suggestion that you WON'T follow."

"Um... okay."

"Just look right in my eyes. Yes... that's it. And relax. Yes, just like that. And be sleepy for me. And... " SNAP!

Gosh, this felt great. Better than great. "And now," he said, "open your eyes." I did. "Say hello to everyone... and tell them how you feel."

"Hi," I said. "I... I feel like I'm still dreaming... but I'm awake, too. At least... I'm sort of awake. And, I'm really... fuzzy." I blushed because everyone was looking at me. "But... I feel GREAT!" A few people laughed and there was some light applause.

"Betty," Tony said casually, "I've had a lot of people comment to me that they think you are very beautiful."

I blushed even more. "Thank you... I guess."

"You don't think you're beautiful?" he pressed.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'm pretty. Guys keep hitting on me." There was more laughter.

"Well," he said, "I think you're perfect."

That made me frown. "But... I'm not! Nobody's perfect."

"Well... I think you are."

"I'm NOT!" I persisted.

"Just name one thing about you that's NOT perfect," he challenged.

I didn't have to think about that one. "My breasts. There. I told you. My breasts aren't perfect!"

He openly looked at my chest. I guess everybody in the room did. "They look perfect to me," he said stubbornly. "What's wrong with them?"

Now I was REALLY blushing. "I... I don't want to tell you."

He smiled at that. "I suggest that... now that you've mentioned them... you HAVE to tell us what's wrong with them. And... show us."

I gasped. "Oh, no Tony! I... I really don't want to do that!"

"I suggest you do."

I looked down at myself... then up at the crowd. "I... I have puffies," I explained.

Tony canted his head and gazed harder at my chest. "You have... WHAT?"

"Puffies," I said resignedly. A few people were laughing, but others were clearly as puzzled as Tony. EVERYBODY was staring! "Oh, gosh!" I muttered. I knew that I'd never be able to explain... I'd have to show them. I reached behind my neck and undid the halter. A sudden hush fell over the whole room. I closed my eyes for a moment, then lowered the top of the dress to my waist. You could hear a pin drop. Silence. I swallowed. "See?" I persisted. "Puffies."

Tony was seemingly just as uncomfortable as I was. "I... uh... don't see the problem," he stuttered, still staring.

I sighed in exasperation and poked at the offending area. "There!" I told him emphatically. "See?"

"Uh... you mean... your areolas?"

"Well... duh!" I said, irritated. "Yes! They're all puffed up!"

"Oh, you dear, sweet, innocent fool!" a woman in the audience said quietly. I looked at her curiously, trying to remember her name. She was somebody's secretary. "Half the women here would KILL to have tits like yours, honey," she told me.

I blinked at her. "Really?" I asked.

Tony cleared his throat. "Tell me, Betty," he said contemplatively. "Is there any woman here this evening that you think has BETTER breasts than you?"

That one was easy. "Yes. Absolutely. HER!" I pointed. The girl I had singled out suddenly smiled nervously at me.

"You seem pretty sure of yourself," Tony commented. "What makes you so certain?"

"I've seen them," I explained to everyone. There were some snickers. "No," I said emphatically, "I HAVE! Upstairs... while I was looking for the bathroom. She was in one of the spare bedrooms, making love to her boyfriend." And... in an instant, the room was silent again. I looked around nervously. "I... um... didn't look for very long. Just for a moment. Honest."

"You goddamned son of bitch!" a woman in the back of the crowd exclaimed quietly. "Just had some business to talk over, huh?"

A male voice answered: "Honey... now, let me explain!"

I looked back to the woman I had seen upstairs, and the smile had been replaced by a look of abject horror. It took me a moment to comprehend. For some reason, my thought processes weren't quite up to par. "Oh my gosh!" I said in despair. "He wasn't your boyfriend! I... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... "

"Betty," Tony barked, "I suggest that you should shut up now. And... that you should just stand there, and... relax... and feel good."

"Okay," I replied, smiling, and I did exactly that. Most of the men in the room continued to stare at my puffy tits.

"Gladys!" Tony shouted to the woman in the back... the one with the son of a bitch husband or boyfriend or whatever he was. She had just started walking toward the door, but she stopped and looked patiently back at the company president. "Gladys, could you please stick around for just a few more minutes? I have a feeling that we might be able to straighten out a few things. They may not be QUITE as bad as we think." She was crying, but she nodded her silent consent and stood her ground.

Tony then strode over to the dark-haired hussy with the great boobs. She... for her part... looked like a mouse that had just seen an eagle swooping toward her with no possible means of escape. "M... Mister Bionicci... Sir... I... "

He silenced her with a single upraised finger. "Belinda, we have some hard feelings here. I don't like that. I need you to help me solve that problem."

"Mr. Bionicci, I'm SO sorry! We... No, I... I just got carried away. But please... PLEASE... I love this job! Don't fire me, sir! Please... "

"That's enough, Belinda. We'll talk about that later. Right now, I was hoping that you could help me with the entertainment. Betty and me, that is."

She blinked a few times. "What?" She blinked a few more times. "You... you mean... you want to hypnotize me? Like... like HER?" She pointed at me. I smiled delightedly back. Oh, Miss Sweet Tits was just going to LOVE this! "Sir," she continued, "you don't have to do that. I'll show everybody my breasts right now!" She began unbuttoning her blouse.

Tony put a hand on her shoulder, and she stopped. Then, he leaned purposefully forward and put his lips next to her ear. Obviously, I couldn't hear what he was saying, but this Belinda girl nodded. There was a long pause, and she nodded again... then said "Yes, sir." He obviously kept speaking to her, and a few people near them sort of leaned in their direction, attempting to overhear. Every now and then, she'd nod again. Obviously a very agreeable girl, Belinda. After about a minute, I saw her eyes flutter. Ooohh, it was happening! He was doing it to her! I wished it was me... I knew how good she was about to feel. And then her eyes closed and her head sank to his shoulder, her arms hanging at her sides. He kept talking for another minute while a few people near them chuckled every now and then.

Finally, she stood up straight and opened her eyes. Then, she looked around and smiled while unbuttoning her blouse and removing it. She idly handed the garment to a guy next to her, before reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra... which she also handed to the guy. Finally, she walked over and stood beside me. I decided that I'd ignore Tony's suggestion not to talk, and I told her: "I'm sorry I got you into trouble."

She smiled at me. "That's okay. I deserved it. My bad."

Tony was beside us now. "Betty... Belinda here is going to help me convince you that your breasts are really very nice."

"She is?" I asked. "How?"

"I'll show you. But first, I think that there's something Belinda wants to say to Gladys, in the back there. Isn't there, Belinda?"

"I am SO sorry, Mrs. Rodman. PLEASE don't blame Eric! It wasn't his fault! I'd had a little too much to drink... and I've always thought he was an attractive man. But let's face it, he's just a man. He didn't stand a chance!" She reached up and cupped her breasts to illustrate her point, and a several people in the audience laughed; but Belinda kept a serious face. The husband in question buried his face in his hands while Gladys, in the back, beside him, looked from him to the half-naked brunette beside me. Finally, she nodded and hooked her arm through her husband's.

"Wonderful," Tony declared. "And now, Belinda, please tell Gladys what else you've decided to do."

"Well," Belinda stated, dropping her arms back to her sides, "tomorrow, I'm going to come back here and let Mr. Bionicci hypnotize me again. All day, if he needs to. That's so he can prepare me for my new job! I'm going to transfer out of Eric's division; and now, I'm going to be working as a secretary to the Cellini brothers, in accounting. All three of them! And I promise that I'll never see Eric again! I won't even be working in the same building. But anyway, I'm SO happy that I still have a job! I'd do ANYTHING to keep working here! Anything! Honest!"

"Good enough, Gladys?" Tony asked, loud enough to be heard in the back.

There was a moment's silence before she answered. "Yes, Tony. Thank you." And she led her husband away.

"And now, Betty," Tony continued, turning back to me. "I've decided that your problem is that you are judging the quality of your breasts when your nipples aren't erect. I bet THAT will make them really beautiful."

I felt my forehead crease as I thought about that. "I... um... How are you going to do that?"

"Oh... it wouldn't be appropriate for ME to do it! I've asked Belinda to help me."

I thought some more. "No. I don't want that. I don't really CARE if they're beautiful or not." I shrugged. "It's never really been important, anyway. I don't care WHAT people think about me. I was just pointing out that there was SOMETHING about me that was... um... "

"Isn't there SOMEONE that you'd like to show your breasts to?" he asked. "Isn't there SOME man that you hope will find your breasts beautiful?"

Without meaning to, I turned and looked up the side staircase, thinking. Was HE watching me right now? Would it matter to HIM? My thoughts were SO muddled! "I... I don't know, Tony."

"I suggest that you DO want to know, Betty. I think that it's an excellent idea for you to find out... for HIS sake. Don't you?"

Well, when he put it like that, it sort of made sense. I was SO glad that Tony was here to help me think while I was so confused. "Okay."

"Wonderful! Alright, Belinda, see if you can make Betty's nipples erect. That way, we can see if her breasts look better."

I turned toward her, and she toward me; and immediately, her hands came up and began to stroke my breasts. I gasped, and then took a deep, ragged breath. After only thirty seconds, she changed tactics, and her fingernails began tracing circles all over my puffy areolas, all around my nipples. Little lightning bolts of pleasure began radiating from my breasts up and down my chest and spine. I started to pant. Everyone was quiet, watching intently. Without warning, she bent forward and sucked my left nipple into her mouth. I gasped again and tried not to moan, but when she shifted to the right one, I couldn't contain it. My hand went up involuntarily to the back of her head.

"That's enough for our little experiment," Tony said sharply, and she pulled away from me.

"Can I kiss her, Mr. Bionicci?" she asked urgently. "Please? Just once?"

I imagine that Tony was contemplating this for a moment, but I didn't turn toward him to see. Belinda was looking into my eyes with a hunger that was startling. "Well... alright, I guess" he answered. "Just one... in the name of science."

I started to draw back away from her, but she followed me. "Just pretend it's HIM," she told me directly, but loud enough to be heard by everyone.

And then, her lips were on mine. They seemed urgent, needy, and very, very soft. But then, they were gone. And oddly, the only thing I could think of to say was: "But... that's not where I want to kiss him!" The room was hushed for one second, and then everyone laughed. Everyone. I considered explaining my comment... I considered telling them: "But... that's not even where his mouth IS!" However, I did NOT say that, because it wasn't any of their business. It was private. A thought. A fantasy.

Tony called for order in the room. "And finally, as Betty looks down at her breasts, I suggest she is going to be very happy to find that, now that her nipples are erect, her breasts are perfect. Just perfect. And... if HE ever sees them, I'm sure that he's going to think they're beautiful, too. Just like the rest of her." He bowed and held out a hand toward Belinda and me, and everyone clapped and cheered. I didn't pay a lot of attention. I was too busy looking down at my breasts. They really were pretty this way. Beautiful, really. Why had I been so self-conscious about them?

"Time to get dressed, girls! Demonstration's over!" he cried. For a moment, I didn't really want to cover up my perfect breasts, but I did as he said, putting the halter strap back around my neck. I had a bit of trouble with it, and Belinda turned me and tied it for me. Somehow, the guy that she'd handed her clothes to had lost her bra, so she had to put on the blouse without it.

And then, Tony counted to three.

TO BE CONTINUED



Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 03



My eyes were already open, and "waking up" was sort of like having a sheer drapery pulled aside in my mind. All of a sudden, I could THINK again. My body still sort of throbbed with sexual longing... especially my breasts and nipples... and my lips. But the REST of my body felt as if I'd just arisen from a long, afternoon nap. I put my arms over my head and stretched like a cat; and when I looked over at Belinda, she was doing the same. I abruptly found that ridiculous in the extreme... and we both burst into laughter.

But my glee was short lived. I rounded on Tony. "Where's my flower?"

He looked genuinely startled. "What?"

"My flower! I was holding a flower! Where is it?!"

I got the feeling that he had thought himself in control of the situation, but this took him completely by surprise. "I... I don't know."

"There!" Belinda exclaimed, pointing.

People were milling all around, but I quickly strode a few steps and fell to my knees, scooping up the long-stemmed rose. Tony was beside me now, and I held it up toward him in both hands. Tears flooded my eyes. "Somebody stepped on it!" The stem was broken at about the midpoint.

I was really surprised to find Belinda on her knees beside me. "It's okay, honey," she said quietly. "It's not damaged too badly. Just hold it up here and it'll be okay."

Tony was leaning over us, scratching his head. "Just throw it away. I'll get you another one."

I skewered him with a withering look, and he actually staggered back a step. When I sighed and glanced back, I discovered that Belinda was looking daggers at him, too. She rose to her feet and then helped me up. "Mr. Bionicci," she explained, "can't you see that someone special gave it to her? It can't be replaced! She's in love!"

"Jeez, Betty," he said in awe. "How long were you with him? Half an hour?"

"I am NOT in love with him," I replied. "It's just that... "

Belinda barked a laugh. "Get real, girl! Nobody goes into apoplexy over a flower like that for any other reason. You got it bad!" I didn't reply to that, but instead lapsed into silence, considering.

Tony took advantage of that to paste on his "executive" face again. He turned to Belinda and said: "Thank for your help tonight. I want you back here tomorrow, like I told you before. Betty and I have some things to talk about now. Goodnight."

She glanced around nervously at the people who were wandering about us, back in "party mode," and then she looked down and blushed. "Mr. Bionicci, thank you SO much for letting me keep my job."

"You're not going to keep your job," he said sternly. "You'll be working in another capacity altogether with Tim, Terry and Tom. I'm going to let THEM decide what to do with you."

She flushed a deeper shade, unable to keep eye-contact. I'd begun to think of her as a sexual predator, but she suddenly seemed extremely subservient. "Yes, sir. Thank you for letting me stay in the company, then. I'll do anything you say, sir. Anything. But... sir?" He didn't respond verbally, but indicated for her to continue with a motion of his fingers. "Do I have to ride one of the buses home?" she pleaded. "I feel... awfully self-conscious about riding with the others. Can someone take me?"

He thought for a second. "Go upstairs to the room you had your little... indiscretion in. You'll sleep there tonight. I'll come and get you when I want you." She stood there, blinking her big eyes at him questioningly. "Now!" he barked. And she literally ran across the room and up the stairs, her high heels clacking noisily. Several people paused and watched until she was out of sight.

"I like her, Tony," I said quietly. "Do you have to be so rough on her?"

"Yes. We have a relaxed, quiet workforce here. So, when something like this happens, I have to make an example. Everyone has to know that it won't be tolerated." He took my arm. "Now, let's go outside to the garden. I need to talk to you."

I kept my feet planted. "I... I'd like to go back upstairs, please. I promised Billy I'd be back."

He put his arm around my waist and applied pressure until I had to walk with him to the back door. "I'll take you back up there myself. But first, we need to talk."

I'd never been to the garden before. It was lushly planted, illuminated with low light, and it was very quiet, away from the party inside. The air was fragrant in the still summer night air. There were benches scattered everywhere, but he led me to one at the furthest reaches of the fenced area. He sat very close beside me.

"You... you're sort of making me uncomfortable, Tony. You're my best friend's lover."

He barked a gentle laugh. "You are very, very attractive, Betty. But I give you my word I'll remain true to Riya. I'll make no pass at you tonight... or ever."

"What do you want, then?"

He reached up and put a finger on my chin, turning my face toward him. He looked as if he intended to kiss me. My lips parted to complain, and then froze in that position as he said: "Look at me and relax, now. Relax. Just relax for me." And in my peripheral vision, I saw his other hand rise, his fingers poised.

"No!" I managed to moan. But then... SNAP! A wave of immense weariness crashed down on me. My eyes closed, and I couldn't help sagging forward toward him. I struggled and fought until I could force my eyes open again, and even then, they were hooded and heavy. "No," I managed to mumble again.

He put his finger back under my chin, and I was obliged to look into his smiling eyes. "You have been under this influence too many times tonight... and too recently. This is too familiar to you now. You want it too much. You cannot resist me." He paused and seemed to take great pleasure in watching me wrestle with it. "You are not a fighter, Betty. You never have been. You have always let others lead you. You've always let others fight your battles; but, that is not a sin. There is nothing wrong with being yourself. You are weak... but there is no offense in weakness. So... I want you to be who you really are... and I want you to surrender to me. NOW!"

With a soft moan, I allowed my eyes to close... allowed my body to slump forward and settle into his arms... allowed my mind to capitulate and sleep. Sleep. Oh, glorious sleep! Why had I fought him? I was born to yield to this feeling. This was not like when I had been semi-awake and bare before the crowd. Now, I was DEEP. He spoke to me, and I heard, but I couldn't discern his words. I found myself nodding at times.

"One Two Three." And I awoke. I was breathing deeply. My body wanted something... there was a deep need within me. It was a lot like before, when my breasts tingled with anticipation; only now, it was my entire body. "And now, again," he told me. "Look in my eye now, please."

I could not help but look up at him. I put my hand on his chest. "Wait! Wait, Tony, please!" His fingers were poised to snap again, but he paused, allowing me to continue.

"Please don't make me want you. Please. You belong to Riya."

He smiled patiently. "I've already given you my word. I will not take you, Betty."

"But... but, you've... made me... " (I didn't want to say it) "... horny."

"You can be aroused... but I will not help you." His fingers moved slightly, straining, ready to snap.

"PLEASE don't do that!" He paused again. "Snapping your fingers... as if I was a dog. It's demeaning."

He smiled. "Very well. This will be last time, I promise."

SNAP! I didn't even try to resist. Down I went. Down and down and down. He spoke to me again... said something again. I have no idea what it was, but it must have been good, because I nodded and told him yes. Oh, yes.

"One Two Three." And I sighed and was awake again. "And now," he told me calmly, "we will do this again. Many more times, in fact."

"But... you promised... not to... "

"I promised not to snap my fingers," he said patiently. "But now, I've given you a verbal trigger. I know you agree with it... you've already consented. In fact, you picked your own trigger out of three possible choices. Now... look in my eyes. Yes, very good. You do that automatically, now. And then, all I have to do is say... Sleep Time, Betty."

And bang... down I went. Non-stop. All the way to the bottom. I simply couldn't get any deeper than this. And he spoke. And, oh, yes, I agreed... with everything he said (whatever THAT was).

"One Two Three." And I was back. But before I could get my bearings: "Look in my eyes, Betty."

I looked but waved my hand again, frantically, before my face. Again he paused. "Why?" I panted, knowing that I was once again poised on the precipice of oblivion. "Why are you doing this to me? Over and over... Why?"

"It will soon just be second nature, my dear. Soon, you won't hesitate... and you won't question. It is in your nature to be dominated... to ALLOW yourself to be dominated. As I told you, that's not necessarily a bad thing. You are a wonderful girl... and you should let yourself be who you are. THIS is who you are, Betty. Submissive and docile. You allow Riya to control you; you allow ME to control you. And soon, you will allow the man you love to control you, as well."

"I... I will?"

"Sleep Time, Betty." And down I went. And back up; and down again. Over and over. How many times? I'd long since lost count. And each time... I realized a little more... became a little more certain... that he was right. In the scheme of things, I might not have been on the bottom of the heap in terms of physical appearance, but that's EXACTLY where I was in terms of aggressive personality. On that scorecard, I was batting zero. The very end. Dead last. All my life, people had led me around. Someone else had always steered my course in life. And I had let them. Because that is exactly who I am.

"One Two Three."

I was awake now; and I sat quietly, waiting patiently for him to put me to sleep again. But he didn't, and I was a little startled when I saw him standing, offering his hand to me. Without comment, I let him help me to my feet; and I didn't resist as he put my hand on his arm. I left it there and followed obediently along beside him as he led me back toward the house. But once inside, I couldn't suppress my shock.

"Where IS everyone?" I asked, looking around the deserted room.

"Long gone," he replied. "The buses left at midnight."

"What time IS it?"

"About one." We were on the stairs now, going back up toward Billy's apartment. He paused in the upper hallway. "Which room is the scene of the crime?" he asked

I pointed toward the door of the spare bedroom where I had observed the rutting couple. At the portal, he told me to stay there for awhile; and without knocking, he opened the door and went in. I waited, but after a several minutes, I leaned forward and listened at the door. I could hear Tony speaking in a low voice, but it was only a mummer, and after awhile, it ceased. Without giving it another thought, I opened the door and went in.

Tony was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at Belinda. Without a nightgown, of course, she was naked, her nipples very erect, but the sheet covered her lower half. She was on her back, and her dark hair was spread out on the pillow. She was obviously asleep, but her lips were moving, and I walked to the bed and listened.

"I will work hard for my bosses. They are strong and I am weak. I am very suggestible. My bosses know best. I will do anything to keep my job. Anything. I must please my bosses. Pleasing them gives me pleasure. Pleasing them makes me feel feminine... makes me feel sexy... makes me feel good. SO good!"

Tony suddenly became aware of me standing there, and he quickly rose and took my arm. I allowed him to lead me toward the door as the sleeping nude continued to drone: "I will work hard for my bosses. They are strong and I am weak... "

We were in the hallway again, and he closed the door softly. "I thought I told you to stay here!"

I ignored him. "Are you just going to leave her like that? All night?"

"Yes. It will save a lot of time tomorrow. She's very susceptible to deep suggestion. This should work very well."

"It's not right, Tony. It's unethical. You can't just make her into some... slave."

He took my arm and led me in the direction of Billy's door. "It's what she said she wanted. I gave her a choice. I told her that if she wanted to work for the Cellini brothers, I'd have to change her... ensure that she was loyal to them. I used the word 'obedient,' and she agreed. Quite frankly, I think she has a real submissive streak in her."

"Like me."

He grinned and opened Billy's door. "Yes. Like you."

And we walked into Billy's living room. And there they were... the two of them. Riya was wrapped in his arms, and they were lying like spoons on the couch, facing us. Asleep. Naked.

I must have made some noise... I know Tony didn't... and they were instantly awake and scrambling. I watched, numb, as Riya swiveled and sat up on the edge of the couch, and she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. My first instinct was to go to her, but Billy was getting up now, and I turned my back so that he wouldn't be embarrassed. I guess I was in shock or something, because I don't remember a whole lot about what happened for several minutes after that. Somehow, we all wound up sitting around the kitchen table. No... now that I think about it, Riya was standing up over by the sink.

They were yelling. About what? Slowly, I became aware. Now, just a minute... Riya had hypnotized Billy? That thought REALLY confused me. But wait... Tony had put her up to it? So that Billy would be more sexually aggressive? THAT didn't make sense! For God's sake, WHY? Ah... so he would try to seduce ME! Of course, they never really said that... at least, I don't THINK they did. Sometimes, it was a little hard to figure out just what Billy WAS saying. But that HAD to be the reason... they wanted Billy to make a pass at me! But because Riya was right there... he had made a pass at HER, instead! And she didn't want to crush his newly-bolstered ego, so she had allowed him to... Holy Cow! Who thought up this screwy plot? Apparently, it had been Tony!

Riya took me into the next room to tell me in person how sorry she was. Everybody was so absolutely sure that I was in love with him! I mean, I'd only just met the guy! I'd only spoken to him for forty minutes, for cryin' out loud! And just because other people looked at him and saw a monster... and I saw... something considerably different; well, THAT didn't really prove anything. And just because I desperately wanted to be alone with him... and talk to him... and let him talk to me... well, that didn't mean I loved the bloke. Bloke. I couldn't keep from giggling. Riya gave me a knowing, mother-hen type of look. I tried to get my thoughts in order. I felt guilty that I'd given in to Tony and his hypnosis, but she just shrugged it off, because I guess he hypnotizes HER all the time! Finally, I asked her the question that was uppermost in my mind: what had it been like? With Billy, I mean. And she just laughed, and told me to find out for myself. It was the most shocking suggestion I think I'd ever heard... and the most intriguing.

And then she took Tony and left. They left! Just like that! And Billy and I were alone again. Alone at last. He stared at me, and I stared back. He made a little move toward me, and for one second, I thought he was about the grab me; but... even though I stood there, ready for it, nothing happened, and I walked over to the couch and sat down. He stared some more. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and tapped his sides with the palms of his hands. Finally, he said: "So... y' want me t' find y' a guest room to sleep in?"

I wanted to scream. Nothing in particular... just scream. But I didn't. "No, thank you. I'll sleep here. On the couch. Will that be okay?"

"Um... yeah... sure."

"It's stuffy in here. Can you open a window?"

"Uh... sure." He walked over to the window and raised it, then walked back and resumed his place, standing in front of me. A sudden gust of wind caused the drapes to billow inward, and the temperature in the room instantly dropped ten degrees. Everything smelled of fresh pine.

"Now I'm cold," I said softly. He gave me a puzzled look, and turned toward the window again, but stopped when I softly cried: "Billy!" He was still in front of me, and he was breathing deeply. I sighed. Oh, I didn't want to be the aggressor! "Billy... could you please sit down and... keep me warm?"

He put a shaking hand to his forehead. "Oh, crikey, but I'm a tosser!" he muttered. He sat down close beside me. I leaned into him, and when he looked at me curiously, I leaned harder... until he laughed out loud and finally put his arm around me. I smiled and put my hand on his chest, snuggling into him.

"I... I'm supposed to be all manly an' aggressive now," he said. He had turned his head enough that he could nuzzle into the top of my hair.

"I think you'll have to be, Billy," I told him softly. "Because I'm not."

"Wot? Not manly?" he asked.

I giggled, but then sobered and sighed. "I'm not aggressive. In fact, I'm meek as a little mouse in a big field. I feel timid... and small... and scared."

"Scared of wot?"

"Being alone. Funny... that's never affected me before. I've been alone for years. Ever since Riya went away to college. But now... all of a sudden... I can't abide the thought of it."

"Aw, Betty. I'm so sorry y' saw us like that. I'm sorry I DID it! I don' know wot came over me!"

"Can you answer one question for me?" He looked down at me, and I asked: "Did... did you kiss her?"

He blinked a few times. "Cor Blimey! Never even dawned on me!"

I pushed on his arm until he lifted it away from me, then I rose to my feet. I settled onto his lap, my right side nestled into the crook of his left shoulder. Now, my face was just below his twisted mouth and weaker left eye. I smiled feebly, and I waited.

"Y' want me t' kiss y' now, do ya?" he asked me, smiling.

I sighed deeply. "I don't think I've ever wanted anything so much in my whole life."

He tilted his head until our mouths were even; but he hesitated, so I leaned into him and kissed him. It was awkward, since his lips were at a different angle than mine, so I kissed softly, shifting angles and pressures and opening my lips more and then less. I put my hands on the sides of his head to hold it the way I thought was best; and suddenly, his arms were around me, crushing me to him... and there was no place for my arms to go but around his neck, and my hands were at the back of his head, holding him. A large, ever-increasing, ever-hardening lump formed beneath my butt... and it suddenly throbbed, so that it was absolutely, positively impossible to ignore... and I started laughing into his mouth.

He backed off a little, breathing hard, laughing with me. "I gotta tell ya' somethin', Betty." I eased my head away from his a little, allowing him to see me properly. I couldn't keep a shy grin off of my face, and I'm sure I was blushing. I was forced to wiggle a little on his lap, but that only succeeded in rubbing my pussy more and more against his erection. I nibbled my lower lip while I waited for him to continue.

"Riya wasn't my first," he said softly. "M' Da took me outta town to a whorehouse on m' eighteenth birthday. 'E 'ad the madam do me 'erself. Nice lady. Let me do it twice, since I went off in about fifteen seconds th' first time. She was sweet. But she was... older; and it was kinda like doin' it with m' mam, if y' know wot I mean." I kept smiling, but was forced to wriggle again. He was feeling progressively bigger. "But... yer the first girl I've ever kissed... like that, I mean. I'm not very... experienced, Betty."

"You could have fooled me," I said softly; and I nestled back into him and resumed where we had left off. I was beginning to get dizzy from the kisses, and after another minute... and several more throbbing jerks against my sex, I broke away, panting. "My God, Billy! How big ARE you down there?"




Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 03



He put his huge hands on my waist and lifted me off of him as if I weighed nothing at all. "Yer about to find out," he said. "But... I really want to see ya' now, girl."

I stood in front of him, feeling meek and tiny. I'd long since taken those stupid high heels off, and when he stood, he seemed to tower over me. "Didn't... didn't you see me already?" I asked in a small voice. "Weren't you watching me down there?"

He nodded. "Yeah... we were watching. But now I wanna see ya' up close and personal."

I shivered a little. He was being forceful, and I loved it. I took a deep breath and reached behind my neck, but the halter strap had become knotted somehow, so I swept my hair to my left shoulder and turned my back to him. It only took him a few seconds, and I dropped my arms, shimmying my hips a little to get the dress down over them and letting the garment fall to the floor around my feet. I stayed like that... facing away from him, shivering in anticipation, grinning as I heard his intake of breath as he looked at me.

"Wot happened to yer knickers?"

I still couldn't make myself look back up at him, and I gasped as I felt his hands on my waist. "My panties? They... they're in the waste basket in your bathroom," I said shakily.

"Cor, Betty. Wot woulda' happened if y'd dropped yer dress downstairs during yer little hypnosis demo?" His hands were moving now, running up my sides... around to my tummy... up to my breasts.

I shivered and gasped... and moaned a little as the palms of his huge hands began stroking my nipples. I turned in his arms. "I don't know. Nothing that happened down there was my doing... nothing was my fault. I had no control." Just as I'm losing control right now, I thought. I began pulling and tugging on his shirt; and he laughed out loud, stepped back and pulled it over his head. Then he swept me up in his arms again. "God, Billy! You're all muscle! I imagined you just sitting around all day, thinking deep thoughts."

He laughed again and drew me close. "I been liftin' weights since I was a wee lad. Do m' best equatin' when I'm on the weight machine."

He hoisted me into the horizontal, making me squeal, and I found myself sitting in his arms as he carried me into the bedroom. I'd never been in that room before, and I looked around, curious. I'm not really sure how he managed to sweep the covers back while still holding me, but somehow that happened, and I was deposited in the center of the queen-sized bed. "This is really happening, isn't it?" I asked.

"As far as I know," he confided, stripping out of his clothes. "Gotta tell you, I'm nervous as a kitten."

"Me too," I said shyly, just before a big gasp. "OH! Oh, gosh, Billy! I... I don't think I can... I mean, I don't think... you'll fit!"

He crawled into bed with me and pulled me into his arms again. "We'll take it nice and slow, Betty. We'll work on it together, easy like."

I couldn't contain a soft moan. Being nestled in those strong arms felt... perfect. For the first time in my whole life, I felt that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. "I don't want to work together, Billy. I want you to take me. I want you to control me. I... I just want to please you. That's all that's important to me right now." I reached down and took his manhood in my right hand. Oh gosh, he was huge! And I smiled into his chest as he groaned in pleasure. "Do you want me to suck on it?" I asked.

"Later," he moaned. "Right now, I just want to get m' fill o' looking at ya'."

He was goggling at my breasts. Oh, I'm glad he liked them. After awhile, I reached up and took his face in my hands, turning it to the right, and I drew his mouth to my left nipple. He slurped and smacked and licked... and suddenly his left hand was between my legs. For someone with such large hands, he seemed to be able to touch just the right places, and his inexperienced lips were doing wonders to my breast. The orgasm hit me like a ton of bricks, rocking me to my soul. It had come out of nowhere, and once it had laid siege to my body, it seemed determined to take up permanent residence. I think I screamed... more than once, but I can't be certain.

I lost track of time and events. I was in his arms, and he was moving me... positioning me; and my body was his... all his... to do with as he pleased. The world drifted back into perspective slowly, and I found myself on my back, my legs spread, my body open to him, welcoming.

"Fergive me, Betty. I desire y' fiercely... but I need to be certain. Y' want this, right?"

"I don't know, Billy," I panted. "I mean... yes! Yes, I want you, too. But... you're so big! How are we going to make it fit?"

He pressed forward... down... and I felt myself resist the massiveness that was trying to gain entrance. His head was well above my own, but he whispered: "Yer soppin' wet. Just relax, and I think it'll be okay."

I willed my lower body to relax, and somehow, part of him pushed inside. I gasped and tried to push up toward him, but he was impossibly heavy. I was trapped beneath him... trapped and helpless, just like I wanted to be. He had somehow worked one of his arms under me, holding my body, and so now my arm was free to move upward and my hand caressed the back of his head. I could move my legs, as well, and they encircled his broad hips. He shoved forward, and I was SO full! I had never felt anything like this. Ever. 

He began plunging into me, and there was little I could do except hang on to him and try to encourage him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. I tried to say "Yes!" when my voice wasn't occupied with moans and gasps and grunts. He suddenly began to swell even more inside of me; and when his body stiffened and began to quake, I held him tightly and tried to pull him into me even further with my heels, as I felt him jerk and spasm and squirt deep, deep inside.

He collapsed atop me then, and breathing became a bit of an effort; but I held on until he recovered enough to roll off of me. I suddenly realized that I needed, more than anything else, to feel his contact, so I rolled with him, throwing my arm and one leg over him, snuggling into him. His arm came around me. Perfect. Oh, God, this was perfect!

My head was against his chest, and I heard his heartbeat finally slow. "Do you want me again?" I asked him calmly. "You can take me again, anytime you want me. You don't have to ask... just take me. Anytime."

He began making that rhythmic grunting sound again, laughing. "Crikey, Betty, yer gonna kill me!"

I snuggled into him even further. "Well... I can't have THAT!" I reached up and started tracing imaginary lines on his chest with a fingertip. "I need to keep you alive and kicking... and doing more of what you just did to me." We were quiet for a long time after that. "Billy?" I ventured. "Do you want me to leave? I don't want to be a burden to you."

"If it's up to me," he said quietly but firmly, "I don't intend to EVER let you leave."

I sighed. "It's all like a fairy tale. I never believed in love at first sight... or gallant princes in their castles."

"This ain't a fairy tale, girl. Y' can kiss me all y' want... I encourage it, in fact... but I'm not gonna turn into a handsome prince."

I lifted my head and kissed his chest before nuzzling the side of my face back into my strong, muscular pillow. "You're wrong, Billy. You ARE the handsome prince. You always have been. And you'll never convince me otherwise." I paused. I didn't know how to broach this subject. "Billy? I know my trigger phrase."

"Yer what?"

"My trigger phrase. The thing that Tony says... that he said... to put me into a hypnotic trance. All you have to do is say it, and I'll go into trance for you."

He shifted beneath me. "Y' want me to hypnotize you? Put y' to sleep?" He skipped a beat. "Control you?"

I shivered at the thought. I couldn't make my voice go above a whisper. "Oh, yes, Billy. That would be... wonderful."

He cleared his throat. "An' what if I happen to like y' just the way y' are?"

"Then keep me that way," I told him simply. "Keep what you like. Change what you want. The only thing that I want is to be yours."

He fidgeted. "I'll think about it."

We were comfortably silent for awhile. "Billy... I have a thousand questions."

He grunted. "Tell y' what. I'll grant y' one answer per night. After the next thousand nights, we'll renegotiate."

I laughed at that. "Okay, then... here's tonight's question." I sighed and held him tightly. "Where is Lambeth?"

TO BE CONTINUED



Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 04



Author's Note: Chapter Four isn't really a "Chapter" at all: it's a separate story that picks up just a little down the road in our characters' lives. If the previous chapter had told you that they lived "happily ever after," then this tale would pick up somewhere between "Happily" and "Ever."

*****

My name is David Rothman, and this is a story about the three most impressive women I've ever met.

Now, one of those ladies I already knew. Wanda Perkins, a fellow grad student at Berkley. Sharp, pretty, witty, and a total bitch. Well ... she could be, when she wanted to. I had pursued her during the past two years ... and I'd even gotten her to go out with me once. We both had a really good time; but when I had tried to kiss her goodnight, she turned me down flat; and she'd refused to accept another date thereafter. My only consolation over the next year was that she had apparently refused to go out with anyone else, either.

Because of our chosen fields of study, we were forced to work together closely ... in classes, in labs, and in extra assignments. In point of fact, we kept things pretty civil. She had helped me when I needed it, and I had reciprocated. But I never actually got over her, if you know what I mean. From time to time, I'd suggest discussions over coffee or drinks; and I could tell that she wanted to, but she never allowed herself any intimacy whatsoever where I was concerned.

Things became a little strained when I came up with something truly important ... something that would definitely result in money and scientific recognition. I sought her help in some areas of this venture, but she accused me of trying to use my good fortune for the benefit of promoting romance. She was right, of course; but still ...

Basically, I had developed a mathematical model for ... and then built ... a 5-qubit quantum processor utilizing a laser shining through a crystal of cesium chloride, which had been obtained from a sample of pollucite, which is a zeolite mineral normally found in Manitoba. (My sample, however, had come from South America.) Most people who had tried multi-qubit processing in the past had done so on the atomic scale ... beryllium, for example. But cesium chloride (or at least my sample of it) had an absolutely perfect cubical crystalline structure, much more exact than iron pyrite (fool's gold) or potassium chloride (common salt). And so, every time I broke and parsed pieces of my perfectly cubical crystal, I came up with other, smaller perfectly cubical crystals ... a few of which I'd managed to get down to only sixteen molecules in size. A programmed laser would use that molecular structure as a switch; sending the beam left, right, up, down or straight ahead. Five qubits.

I wrote a scientific paper on my findings (leaving off the little detail about where I had acquired my sample mineral), and I was just beginning to receive serious inquires about my work, when I got a registered letter from BQPC, the company that had already built a 3-qubit processor. But the thing that made this offer different was that they said they wanted to see Wanda, as well. That put her in a bit of a bind. I knew she didn't want to piggyback her work with mine ... however, she couldn't very well turn down an offer by BQPC. When she called them, they told her that they were interested in HER ... not just in me. And so ... off we went.

We flew American from San Francisco through Dallas/Ft. Worth to Raleigh-Durham. It was late when we arrived, of course, due to the time zone change; and they had arranged for a couple rooms at the Hyatt, there at the airport. Wanda refused my invitation for dinner and drinks, but I found her at breakfast, and she couldn't politely keep from sharing a table. I told a few jokes and related some humorous incidents from my past that finally had her laughing; and so things were actually pretty decent between us when SHE walked up. Yes, this was Impressive Woman Number Two, who introduced herself as Riya Phillips. She was one of the most exotically beautiful girls I'd ever seen; olive complexion, huge brown eyes that glistened with intelligence, glossy black hair and an aura that screamed in equal parts cleverness, mischievousness and sexuality. She sat down and ordered coffee, and shortly thereafter, Wanda kicked me under the table with enough force to make me cry "ouch!"

"Please forgive my companion for staring," she told Riya, and then promptly changed the subject before I could defend myself. Riya sported an engagement ring, and it appeared that her intended was none other than the president of the company, Anthony Bionicci. February wedding date, she said. I'd never had the opportunity of hearing Wanda talk about "girl things," and I was surprised ... and a little impressed ... at her degree of femininity. I enjoyed sitting back and observing. But after awhile, we were in a limousine bound for "the house," which turned out to be a mansion in the woods, south of the university district. It was unique, to say the least. The front of the estate faced a large lake (usually, the back of a house does). But that, as it turned out, added significantly to the privacy in the back of the place, where there was a pool area and a garden.

We were to interview with William Smythe first; and he, of course, was the person both of us were most interested in meeting. A significant number of people were convinced that he didn't really exist. There were no pictures of him, and he was never seen in public. There were stories, of course ... And here is one of the most impressive ones (pardon me for paraphrasing):

A popular online blogger and photographer had decided to take up the task of snapping a picture of Smythe after one eccentric computer magnate offered a ten thousand dollar reward for a photo that could be verified ... just to prove that there actually WAS such a person. The blogger had set up camp on a highway pullout that overlooked the mansion. However, no sooner had he erected his tripod and affixed his camera and long-range lens, but a black sedan pulled up and two VERY unsavory men in black suits approached him. The smaller of the two (the one without the broken nose), walked up to him and said: "We hear that youse is tryin' to infringe upon da privacy of da nice people in yonder mansion. Please say it ain't so!"

While the intrepid journalist tried to defend his First Amendment rights, the big man (the one WITH the broken nose) picked up the camera rig, took it back to the sedan, deftly released the camera from the tripod, and climbed into the back seat with it. Obviously, our hero protested vehemently. The smaller man told him to please remain calm ... that Rollo was only a camera enthusiast, and that he would go and get the camera back. Smaller Man was gone a long time ... almost five minutes ... before he returned with only the tripod. He explained that Rollo, in his affectionate haste to examine the camera, had unfortunately broken it. However, their boss had philanthropically agreed to replace it; and a brand new Nikon D5200, 24.1 megapixel camera (sorry, he explained, the 16 megapixel model, like the one Rollo had broken, was no longer available), along with an AF-S 300mm lens, had already been shipped to his sister's address in Arlington, Virginia, via overnight delivery service. Of course, the reporter had never given the men his name; and so, more than slightly freaked out, he quickly departed the scene. A brand new camera and lens did indeed show up at his sister's house the next morning. This story had not QUITE gone viral on the internet ... but it had enjoyed far more than moderate dissemination.

So anyway, with a great deal of anticipation, Wanda and I followed Riya into the palatial foyer, up one of the three grand staircases and down a hall, where she knocked gently on one of the doors and led us inside. I had thought Riya was stunningly beautiful, but the young woman that now stood before us broke that mark. If her face or body bore any flaw at all, I certainly couldn't see it. She was nothing short of spectacular! Her long red hair was a mass of natural curls that framed a face that I can only describe as erotically innocent. Her whole being seemed to exude childlike honesty and curiosity. Riya was introducing her as Betty Smythe, and explaining that she and "Billy" had recently been married in a private ceremony here in the mansion. Betty was now his personal executive assistant. As Betty came around a desk to greet us, Wanda dug an elbow into my side and whispered "Try to keep your tongue from dangling, David."

Once again, Wanda surprised me with her ability to speak in genuinely social terms. It had been so long since we had engaged in any type of banter other than quantum physics that I had completely forgotten how utterly charming she could be. The three of them were going on and on about how Betty wanted to "change the decor" of the room we were now in; color schemes and types of woodwork and trim and drapes and whatnot. I was most satisfied just standing back and listening ... and looking. Wanda is an awfully pretty lady herself, and having the three of them together was sort of like watching a super model convention or something.

At long last, Betty told us that "Billy" was expecting us, but that he was "doing a little math in his office," and she waved a hand at a closed door to our left. She led the way, and I sort of naturally offered my arm to Wanda as we followed. She just as naturally refused; so I trailed close behind her into a huge room covered with bookcases and dry-erase boards, then stood beside her as Betty addressed a massively-built man with his back to us who was writing on one of the walls. Her voice was clear and to-the-point. "Billy, this is David Rothman and Wanda Perkins. You've been wanting to meet them."

And then he turned around and faced us.

Okay ... I had actually been expecting something like this. Nothing quite to this degree ... but something. I mean, assuming that the man actually existed, there had to be SOME reason that he would never show himself to anyone; and hiding a physical characteristic or disability was one of the reasons that I'd imagined. But while he had been in the process of turning toward us, and in the split-second that followed, Betty had made her way to him and snuggled into his arm. It was that split-second that made the difference, though; because Wanda totally freaked out.

I had taken half a step forward, my hand coming up in preparation to extend and shake his. But before I could complete that step, she had issued a high-pitched shriek, grabbed my shoulder, spun me around and flung herself into my arms, burying her face into the side of my neck. The entire maneuver had caught me so off guard that my momentum caused us both to spin around in a stumbling 360-degree turn. She had plastered herself against me, and I was extremely aware of her ample breasts pressing into my lower chest. She was shaking violently.

The way the Betty had walked up to Billy ... and the way she had slipped one of her arms through one of his while caressing his shoulder with her other hand ... was frankly like something out a wet dream. Her whole being seemed to exude adoration, sensuality and desire toward him. He, by himself, might be considered visually repugnant. She, by herself, might be considered lovely. Together, they were erotically fascinating! But Wanda hadn't seen that sight yet. She was obviously too afraid to even look.

My right ear was ringing due to the vicinity and volume of the scream. I cast a look at our host and hostess in an attempt to convey a silent apology, and I put my arms around my companion, trying to calm her. She was muttering to herself in a tone so low that only I could hear: "Oh my God! Oh my God!" and she continued to clutch my body to hers and shiver uncontrollably. My left arm was now around her waist, and my right palm was against her back, holding her to me. I put my lips next to her left ear and shushed her quietly. "Everything's alright, Wanda. There's no need to be like this. I'm right here. Let's say hello to our host."

She actually tried to raise her head, but couldn't seem to muster the courage to do so. She held me even tighter. "I ... I can't! Oh, God, I can't! David, I'm so ashamed!"

I looked helplessly toward Smythe and Betty. If he was having any reaction to this at all, I certainly couldn't read it. He seemed to be shifting his head very slightly to the left and right, and I came to understand that it was difficult for him to focus both of his eyes on something at the same time ... they were too widely spaced, and they were actually pointing in different directions. And as for his wife, she continued to hold his broad arm possessively, but she had moved a bit more in front of him, as if she intended to shield him from all of the world's discrimination using nothing but her slight body and her love for him. I had never witnessed anything like it, and for a moment, it brought a lump to my throat. Seeing no avenue for help in that direction, I looked behind us, where Riya still stood at the doorway. She actually bore a small smile, and her eyes sparkled with raw interest ... and something that was perhaps a little predatory. It was a very strange expression, but as soon as she noticed that I was looking at her, it faded immediately, and she quickly walked to us and put her hands on Wanda's shoulders.

"Why don't you come with me, sweetie," she crooned softly. "We'll let David and Billy talk for awhile, and I'll introduce you to the business half of the company first. You can come back here later, when you're ... feeling better."

Finally, my companion pulled away from me slightly. She peered up miserably into my eyes. "Oh, David ... I'm SO sorry!" She actually cast a fervent glance at the other two ... but only for a moment. "Mr. Smythe ... I'm sorry. I ..." But she seemed incapable of continuing; and, releasing me at last, she grasped Riya's hand and hurried from the room.

Believe it or not, I had rehearsed this meeting in my mind during the flight out. So much for rehearsals. I strode over to them, my arm outstretched. "Okaaay then," I fumbled. His oversized hand engulfed mine. "Mr. Smythe, you have no idea how much I've looked forward to ..."

"Y' gotta call me Billy," he said cheerily. "You've got a right fit bird there, mate! And no 'ard feelins, by any means. 'Appens all th' time!"

It was as if a mighty weight had been cast from my shoulders, and I threw back my head and laughed. I turned to Betty, who was still a little unsettled, and said: "I hope you, too, can find it in your heart to eventually give my right fit bird another chance." I spoke behind the back of my hand in a mock-whisper to her: "What the hell IS a right fit bird, anyway?"

The corners of her mouth twitched a couple times before curving into a smile, and all hard feelings seemed to melt. "I've found it best to assume that he's giving compliments until you can prove otherwise," she said softly. She moved away from us. "I'll leave you two alone for awhile. Let me know when you're ready for me to take you down and introduce you to Tony." And she left, closing the door behind her.

"Welcome to my domain," he said, extending his arms and indicating his drawing boards. "I was jus' workin' on this bit 'eer."

I froze when I saw what he was indicating. It was as if someone had just gripped me around the throat. It was my formula! Not the RESULTS of the formula, mind you ... which I had both published in a journal and posted online ... but the formula itself! There was only one copy of this ... or so I had thought ... locked up in my safe at home. I hadn't even copyrighted it, knowing that if I did, it would be in the purview of the public. "How ...?" was all I could say.

He clapped his hands delightedly and began making a strange, rhythmic grunting sound (that I would eventually come to recognize as laughter). "'That's IT, ain't it?" he announced with glee.

"Where ... where did you get this?" I asked. Already, the implications of him possessing this were staggering. I would be left with ... nothing! "Who did you talk to? How did you ...?"

"I didn' get it ANYWHERE, bloke! I figgered it out! Y' posted yer findins, so I had a startin' point and an end point. Fillin' in the stuff in the middle was a right proper little problem!"

I leaned heavily against one of the desks. "So ... you don't need me," I said dully. "You've got all you need right here! All except the crystal ... and it'll only be a matter of time before you put THAT problem together, too. Why did you even ask me to come here?"

"Aw, don't get yer knickers in a twist!" he exclaimed, picking up an eraser. With broad sweeps, he began eradicating the figures. "Yer formula's all yer own. I don't want it. I only wanted to see if I got it right."

I suddenly pushed away from the desk. "WAIT!" I shouted. I had just seen what he was in the process of erasing. He had taken the formula to another level! He'd discovered a next step!

He paused, taken aback at my outburst, then turned and studied the writing. With additional laughing sounds, he continued swiping at the board until it was all gone. "Make y' a deal, mate," he said. "Whether y' decide to hire on with us or not ... come back 'eer sometime, and we'll work on continuing that ... and other things. We'll have us some brandy, an' we'll do a little proper math ... and we'll change the world, you 'n me!"

Rather than answer him immediately, I paused, my eyes on that blank spot on the board, trying to envision what I had just seen. But it was gone. "You son of a bitch!" I said, laughing.

"Aw ... y' can do better than THAT?" he prompted.

"You bloody ...!" I wracked my brain, but I couldn't think of any British idiom.

"Wanker?" he prompted.

"Right!" I exclaimed. "You're a bloody son of a wanker!"

And at that point, we were suddenly two laughing math nerds with a common interest, some blank space on a board and a roomful of problems to talk about. I won't bore you, but I had a great time; talking and chuckling and figuring and writing. Suffice it to say, when Betty opened the door to tell me that it was past the time to go for the second half of my job interview, I was dumbfounded to learn that almost two hours had passed! Billy and I shook hands warmly, and I had to promise him that, job or no job, I would come back and do this again sometime soon.

I followed Betty's enticing figure out of the apartment, down the hallway and stairs, and into another wing of the mansion. Anthony Bionicci's outer office contained a desk (but no secretary) and several chairs around the periphery of the room. Betty picked up a phone from the desk and spoke briefly before hanging up and telling me that "Tony" was talking to someone, and would be with me shortly. She excused herself, saying that she had to check her messages, and she sat down and started fiddling with her phone. I decided to sit and do a little work on my phone, as well; and since Betty was preoccupied, I plugged in a set of earphones and started listening to some tunes. And so it was that when a VERY pretty dark-haired girl came out of the inner office, I was looking down at my phone ... but I could clearly see her in the reflection of the gadget's screen (which I keep darker than normal). And I could hear, as well, because the song I was listening to had just ended, and my phone wasn't programmed to play another one.

Betty and this new girl squealed like long lost friends and hugged. "Belinda! I haven't seen you since ... that night! How are you?"

"I'm wonderful! I'm still working for the Cellini Brothers in accounting!"

They talked animatedly about Betty's marriage, examined the ring and other things.

"What were you talking to Tony about?" Betty asked.




Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 04



She cast a suspicious look in my direction, but I kept my head down and pretended not to hear. Betty even called my name softly, checking. I felt a little like a spy collecting information. Content in the false knowledge that I couldn't hear them, Belinda said: "You know ..."

"He had you hypnotized again?" Betty asked.

"Oh, yes. Deep."

"I don't like this idea of Tony 'conditioning' you Belinda! You shouldn't put up with it!"

Betty's friend smiled. "You don't get it, girlfriend. This is what I want. It's what I need. Before, when I was ... sleeping around with people from the offices here; I'd find I guy I liked, and then I'd tease him. I'd tease him mercilessly. I'd push him to the breaking point ... and then I'd push a little further. I wanted him to take me; take me hard! The harder, the better! I wanted to be forced ... to be dominated. That's who I really am." She paused for a moment. "You didn't know that, did you?"

Betty shook her head, her curls swinging all around. "And ... and what happened to you after that night? What happened in your new office?"

Belinda smiled. "Within an hour on the first day I went to work for the Cellinis, one of them had me bent over a desk, taking me from behind. By lunchtime, another had demanded a blowjob." She paused for effect. "I was in heaven, girl!"

"Belinda! My gosh!"

"Oh, it only gets better," she confided. "One of them loved to tie me up. Another one liked to take pictures. I think it started out as just games ... role playing, you know? You see, I can't afford to lose this job. I mean, I really, really want to keep this job! I'd do anything to keep it. Anything! They knew that fact ... and they used it. They humiliated me, and I LOVED it! At first, it was just blackmail ... you know? ... pictures; and threatening to expose my 'slutty ways.' But the deeper I got into the habit of following, the more THEY became my masters. By the third week, I was a slave ... a real, no shit sex slave! I had to ask permission for everything! Even going to the bathroom! I was turned on constantly! I had to start bringing two extra pairs of undies every day because I soaked them through so often! I know it was wrong, but I couldn't have BEEN any happier!"

"So ... you just have sex all day?"

Belinda laughed. "Oh no. They worked me like a slave, too! Their filing system was a train wreck before I got there! And because of the ... other demands they put on me, I often had to stay late to do all the typing that needed to get done. But then last week ... things changed."

"How?"

The dark-haired girl actually blushed. Mark me: she HADN'T blushed up until this point. "Well ..." she continued more softly, "... two of them stopped ... um ... making demands on me. For sex, I mean. I even asked one of them if something was wrong ... asked him if I could give him a blowjob or something. But Terry and Tom simply refused to demand anything from me at all ... except office work, I mean. And Tim ... well, Tim not only took me twice in his office that day ... once bent over the arm of his couch and once with me straddling him in his chair ... but then he ordered me to go home with him that night! It was really strange. And really nice! It's the first time I'd slept with a man ... I mean, all the way through the night until morning ... in years."

"Was that the only time?"

"Oh no. It's been that way every day since. He makes me make him breakfast every morning. And I have to wash his back in the shower ... using my breasts. And sometimes, he makes me read to him in bed at night. And last Saturday, he did it to me four times! But on Sunday, I burnt his toast and he spanked me. But then he licked me until I passed out! And in the mornings, I always wake up in his arms. I can't BEGIN to describe what living with him is like!"

Betty cleared her throat. "And what, exactly, did Tony call you in to talk about just now?" she asked.

"He didn't. I asked to talk to HIM," Belinda replied. "I wanted ... I wanted to ask him if he could call Tim and give him my trigger phrase. Tony never allowed me to remember it. I mean ... Tim has taken me sexually just about every way a man can take a woman. But, if he wants me ... wants me completely ... then he should know how to control my mind, too. That's the one thing he hasn't done to me yet."

Betty held her by the shoulders. "You're in love."

"Yes! Can you believe it? I want to tell the whole world: I belong to him! He owns me!"

They stood like that, close, smiling. But slowly the smiles faded, and they were just looking into each other's eyes. "Betty ... do you ever think about that night? Do you ever think about ... the kiss?"

And the door opened. Quickly, Belinda backed away from her friend, as if she was guilty of something. "Belinda! Are you still here?" the man said gruffly.

I stumbled to my feet. Somehow, I had acquired an erection, and I tried to shift things in front of me unobtrusively. I don't know if I entirely succeeded, but at least I could walk alright. I strode forward and shook his hand, introducing myself.

"Please, call me Tony," he said, before turning again to the women.

Before he could say anything else, though, Betty interrupted rather forcefully. I found myself only being more and more impressed with little Betty. "My friend, Belinda, and I are catching up on old times, Tony. I'll walk her out to her car. Okay?"

She said the last word in such a way that argument was absolutely impossible. "Certainly," Tony responded. "Oh, and Belinda ... I just called Tim, and he has the information you requested. I'm sure you will both find it ... adequately satisfying." Belinda blushed again. The two girls left as Tony ushered me into the inner room. I never did learn about "the kiss." It's one of the small regrets in my life.

He waved me into an overstuffed chair, and pulled his office chair around the desk to be closer to me. I allowed him to spout company history to me for about thirty seconds before I politely cut him off, informing him that I had learned just about all there was to know about it. He studied me openly for a few moments. "Billy tells me we need you on our team, David," he said. "I always believe Billy." He stared at me some more. "And so now, it's time for me to ask you: What will it take to bring you onboard?"

"Just a few honest answers ... Tony," I said slowly. I was nervous ... not about who he appeared to be, but who I thought he was. He made a gesture, urging me to go on, and I took a shaky breath. "Just now ... in the outer office, Belinda said she worked for some men named Cellini."

He nodded. "They do our accounting."

"Cellini is your mother's maiden name," I said solemnly. "Are they your cousins?"

His eyes narrowed. "Man, when you study up for an interview, you do a good job of it."

My hand was shaking a little, and I grasped the arm of the chair to try to control it. "Thirty years ago, your father joined two of the most influential crime families in the country ... from New Jersey and Chicago," I continued. I paused, and we both scrutinized each other. "Mr. Bion ... Tony ... If Wanda and I 'join you team,' will we be working for the Mafia?"

He frowned, leaned back, and started idly drumming his fingers on the desk beside him. He sat that way for the better part of a minute. Finally, he nodded ... more or less to himself, as if he'd just made an important decision. "Okay ... here's the deal," he said earnestly. "Hollywood has it wrong." I didn't know how to respond to that, and he went on. "Have you ever seen a movie about a crime family; and the youngster ... the son who wants to take over ... accuses the 'oldsters' of pussyfooting around? Tries to convince them use more violence? Tries to 'ramp up' the types of crime? Tries to 'expand the operation?' ALL the movies do that! Whether it's about the Italian Mafia, Russians, Japanese Yakuza ... it's all the same! The younger generation wants to 'modernize' crime. Well ... that's bullshit!"

He'd gotten himself worked up, and he tried to corral his feelings. "Last year, I asked my old man for a loan to get us started here. He made it a gift ... two hundred grand. As an experiment, he gave my older brother the same amount. Vince took over some of the prostitution and drug operations. Do you want to know what he earned on that investment? Five million. Two and a half percent. Want to know what THIS company is going to post for first annum? HALF A BILLION!" He paused and frowned. "Well ... half of the raw profits will be going to Billy. But ... don't you see? The 'new generation' knows what I know. Crime doesn't pay. Oh, I guess it pays ... but not nearly ENOUGH! And you want to know why? The overhead is astronomical! A quarter of Vince's workforce is in jail! Legal costs are huge! Graft payments have gone through the roof! I could go on and on! Hell, even Vince is under indictment in Chicago!"

I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry ... so the answer to my question is ...?"

"I am legal. WE are legal. One hundred percent. If I see a crime ... I report it! And ... one of the reasons that I'm doing all of ... THIS," he made a gesture to indicate his world around him, "is to make a point to my 'family.' The old ways are crazy! If they REALLY want to make money, they should get OUT of the old business. And legislation over the past twenty years has only made it easier to make money WITH money! The failed 'War on Drugs' is almost over! States are going into that business themselves! And lawmakers are doing things ... not so that they can shut down illegal dealers ... but so that other people can make that money legally! Capitalism is the new organized crime! I can't promise you that everything I do will always be ethical. But I CAN promise you that it will always be legal."

"So," I summarized, "clean business built on dirty money."

He smiled. "As opposed to the money that you'd be accepting from the military industrial complex by going to work for someone else? ALL money has dirty roots. The only thing we can change is where the money goes from here. I put OURS into R&D. I'll put some of it into buying a pollucite mine ... if you tell me where it is."

I nodded. "And so, what, exactly, are you offering me to bring my work here?"

"We can talk about money later," he said confidently. "Money is not going to be a problem. Your own lab ... your own staff ... whatever. But ... as a token of my trust and friendship, I am now going to give you the thing you want most in life." He rose. Startled, I got up, too, and I followed him to a side door. "Whether you join us or not, David, I hope that you'll accept my little ... gift."

He opened the door and paused, startled to see Riya standing very close to the other side. She had obviously been listening, but she showed no embarrassment at all ... she simply gave us both that strange little smile of hers. Her eyes danced with impish humor. And it didn't seem to fade as I pushed roughly past both of them and rushed to where I saw Wanda. She appeared to be unconscious, leaning limply at an odd angle against the back of a couch. I took her by the shoulders. "Wanda?" I asked softly, then repeated it more firmly with no result.

"So ..." Riya said slyly, looking up at her fiancée's face. "I'm destined to be the matriarch of the Bionicci Crime Family!"

"What have you done to her!?" I demanded from the couch.

"Count to three," Tony said to me before returning his attention to the exotic beauty he now took in his arms. "The word 'Crime' is not part of the name, my dear," he told her.

"WHAT?" I demanded.

"Count to three," Riya repeated, not looking at me. Then she smiled brightly up at him. "And you don't think that ... just perhaps ... I might not fit the part of a proper Italian Mama?"

"You are the new world order, my love," he said, and he kissed her. He kissed her rather passionately, in fact.

I turned back to Wanda. "Um ... one ... two ... three."

She opened her eyes, blinked them several times, focused on my face, and threw her arms around my neck. "Oh, David!" she gushed.

I staggered to my feet, but she clung to me and wound up standing, as well, her body pressed tightly to mine. I found that my hands were on her waist, but I raised them behind my neck and pried her arms apart, stepping back away from her. "They ... He ... hypnotized you or something!"

"Mmmm ... yes," she replied dreamily. She tried to move her arms back around me.

"What have you DONE to her?!" I repeated. "Is THIS the 'gift' you're giving me? A brainwashed girlfriend?!"

Wanda gasped at my comment, but then smiled shyly. "Is THAT what you think? You've got it all wrong, David!" Her comment surprised me, and she took advantage of my consternation to twist her wrists free from my grasp; then she threw her arms back around my neck, wriggling her body into mine.

I looked sternly back at the other couple, who remained plastered together in a fervid lip-lock. "Excuse me, you two! We need to talk about Wanda! Now!"

They broke the kiss, but didn't look away from each other's eyes. They were both breathing hard. Tony slid a hand down and began stroking Riya's ass. "If I told you, would you believe me?" he asked.

I blinked at them. For a moment, I hadn't realized that the question had been directed toward me. Riya took advantage of the lull to ask: "Are you through with that couch? I think Tony and I ... need it."

"Let's go back to the motel," Wanda whispered in my ear.

"What the hell?!" I half-yelled to no one in particular.

Riya's hand was on my back, and when I turned, she was looking at me with that strange, mischievous look of hers. "There's no one staying with us right now. Go upstairs. The wing between this one and Billy's. Ten bedrooms. Pick one. Have HER tell you what happened to her. She'll tell you the truth ... no shit." She gave me a shove in the direction of the door. "Now ... Tony and I need that couch. Get out of here, you two! We'll call you when it's time for dinner." And she squealed loudly and laughed as her boyfriend shoved her down on the couch and dove on top of her.

Wanda finally, finally pulled away from me, grasped my hand and tugged me through the door. "Why are all the women in this house so goddamn beautiful?" she groused. I didn't answer and I didn't resist; following along, down a hall, up some stairs, down another hall. She shoved open the first door she came to and pulled me inside. And then she kissed me. Hard.

I pushed against her a little, but she issued a disappointed little "Nmm-mmm" into my mouth, and so I surrendered to her lust ... and to mine. I crushed her in my arms and took command of the kiss, moving my hands from place to place on her back and up and down her sides. She gently pulled her lips from mine, panting, staring into my eyes without focus, before I pulled her in for some more. This was in retaliation for the kiss she had refused me on that date ... and for every date I had begged her for since. She seemed to melt into me. At long last, I moved her away a little and looked at her. Her eyes remained closed ... her lips still pursed ... and she swayed slightly from side to side. And then she opened her eyes and said "Oh, wow!" She took her arms from around my neck and began unbuttoning my shirt.

"Hey!" I groused. "I am NOT going any further until I find out what that son of a bitch did to you!"

She didn't stop with the buttons until she was forced to deal with the necktie. "He opened my eyes, David. He let me see what a fool I've been." She paused, thinking a moment, before pulling the tie from around my neck and returning to the buttons. "Well ... that's not quite true. Maybe I wasn't a fool a year ago, but I'm being a fool now."

"You're speaking gibberish," I told her. I put my hands over hers to stop her. "He's filled your head with garbage. You probably can't tell reality from 'implanted memories' anymore."

"Is THAT what you think?" she asked calmly. She reached up, took my left hand in both of hers, and led me to the bed, sitting down and pulling me beside her. "If you believe that to be true, then nothing I tell you will really give you the information you're seeking." I opened my mouth to argue before realizing that her logic was correct. She began stroking my hand. "I need you to do something for me, David. I'm going to tell you my trigger phrase. But ... when I do, I'm going to forget it myself. That's what he told me, and I know that it's true. I'll never be able to remember it again ... as long as I live. After you use it on me ... no matter how many times you use it on me ... it will disappear from my mind. It will always work. Every single time. But I'll never be able to retain it afterwards; so remember it. Okay?"

I gazed at her to try to determine if she was as crazy as she sounded, but she appeared clear-eyed and intelligent. She took a breath and said: "Sleep time, Wanda."

"What?" I asked, but she didn't respond. She only looked up at me with anticipation. "Sleep time, Wanda? What is that supposed to mean?"

Instead of answering, she rested her head on my shoulder and sort of snuggled into me. She stopped stroking my hand, and a few seconds later, her left hand fell away from mine and plopped into her lap. After a long pause, it became evident that she wasn't going to answer me. "Wanda?" I prodded.

"Mmmmm. Yes, David?"

"What does that mean?"

"What does WHAT mean, David?" She remained slumped against me.

"Sleep time, Wanda?"

"Ooooo. Mmmmm." She seemed to lean into me even more, though her whole body seemed limp. "I can't go any deeper, David. I'm as deep as I can be."

I tried to push her away from me so I could see her expression, but it was like pushing against a piece of string. "Sit up!" I said, exasperated. And immediately, she did so. Her back was straight, her hands in her lap, her eyes tightly shut. This confused me even more. "Open your eyes!" I commanded; and she did THAT immediately, too. I was startled to realize that she was looking at nothing at all. Her eyes were staring, unfocused, directly in front of her.

I took a deep breath. "You ... you're ... hypnotized."

"Mmmm. Yes. Oh, David, it's the best feeling in the whole world!"

I ran my fingers through my hair, forcing myself to calm down and think. "And what is the feeling, Wanda? Describe it to me."

"I feel open and honest and obedient and truthful. I will tell you anything you want. I can speak only the truth. And whatever you tell me, I know that it will be true, as well. True for now and for always. I'm relaxed and I'm in love, and I belong to you alone. I will do anything for you. Anything."

I felt helpless. "Oh, Wanda ... what has he done to you?"

"He gave me this gift," she said, smiling. "I thought ... when I first asked him to hypnotize me ... that he would just help me face Mr. Smythe without flinching. That's how Riya convinced me I should try it ... why I should let him put me under. But then, he asked me what I most wanted; and I told him THIS! THIS is what I want. More than anything else in the world!"

"I don't understand."

"I told him that I wanted to be yours, David. That's all I've ever wanted. I love you. I've loved you since the first day I met you."

"But that's not really true, is it, Wanda? You can barely tolerate me."

Her smile broadened. "Silly boy. That's just what I wanted you to believe. It was never true."

I shook my head. "That's ridiculous! Why would you ever want to do something like that?"

She turned her head and focused on my face, though she still seemed to speaking from a dream. Tears were in her eyes now. "Because I knew you were poised on the brink of greatness! You were destined for something ... wonderful! And it happened, David! You did it! You're barely out of school ... and you're already published! You've accomplished a mathematical breakthrough ... and you created something that's going to make a difference! If I had let you kiss me on that date ... if you had kissed me then like you just did here ... where would you be now? Holding down a second job to support a wife? Maybe a kid? At the very least, you would have spent lots of those nights that you put in at the laboratory with ME instead!"




Hypnotic Adventures of Beauty Ch. 04



"Isn't that just a wee bit melodramatic?"

"I wanted you SO much! If I had given into my desires, I wouldn't have been able to keep myself from being with you. I would HAVE to have had you! But I resolved to just think about you, instead. Every night. Every night, I think about you and touch myself."

"Uh ... you mean that every night, you ..."

"I masturbate, yes. I made myself stop doing it during the day, though. Mrs. Rodcrantz caught me once in the restroom in the physics building. So I quit, and I made myself wait until night. It was really hard, sometimes. Hard to wait until night, I mean. Especially when I had a class with you. And sometimes, on the weekends, I'd visit porn sites on the internet, and I'd get ideas about what guys like ... what YOU might like ... and I'd daydream about that when I did myself, you know? And on Saturday and Sunday ... well, THAT was the best; because I could do myself three or four times a day then!" She looked longingly into my eyes. "Do you want me, David? Because all of a sudden, I REALLY want you!"

I cleared my throat. "Uh ... what, exactly, DO you think about when you ... uh ... do yourself? What did you see on the internet that you ... thought I might like?"

"All the porn sites show girls giving blow jobs, so I bet you'd like that." She frowned slightly. "It doesn't look as if they enjoy the taste, though." She brightened. "But now that you know how to hypnotize me, you can MAKE me like it! I think it looks like tapioca pudding. I like tapioca pudding! You can make me think it tastes like that!"

I had to reach down and adjust myself in my suddenly-too-tight trousers. She went on. "And lots of the porn videos show girls in bondage. Those are my favorites for fantasies, I think. You making me all helpless ... completely at your mercy ... having to do whatever you tell me ... like I'm a sex slave or something." She shivered. "Don't you want me, David? What can I do to make you want me? None of the girls on the internet have any pubic hair. I could shave all of mine off, if you want. But I keep it sort of trimmed up, anyway. Do you want to see?" And before I realized what was happening, she had stood, unzipped her skirt and shoved it and her panties down to her ankles. She stepped out of them and put her arms out, posing.

"I could pierce my nipples for you, if you want! That's sort of hot, don't you think? My breasts are really big. I see you staring at them all the time. They sag a little, but I could get a boob job done to make them stand up more, if you'd like. Do you think they need it? I'll do it, if you want me to. Here ... I'll show you." In five seconds, her sweater had flown to the right, her pullover blouse to the left, and her bra was sailing through the air behind her. "Do you want me to change them, David? I'll do it if it would make you want me."

I stood and reached for her, putting one hand on her bare side and the other on the side of her neck; and I stood very close to her, looking directly into her eyes. "Is this YOU saying all of this, Wanda ... or did you he put these ideas in your head?"

"He asked me what I wanted the most ... and I told him it was you. So then, he let me realize that I'd done enough for you by denying you ... and by denying myself. He let me see that it was time! It was time to give myself to you ... if you still want me. To give ALL of myself ... even my mind! He showed me how right it is to give you what I've always wanted to give you! He showed me how right it is ... to surrender!"

I kept holding her like that, our noses almost touching. And I said: "One two three."

She didn't blink this time. She simply took a deep breath; but that spark that was Wanda came back into her eyes and she said: "Oh, wow!" Without lowering her gaze from mine, she found the one button that she had missed before, and then she pushed my shirt past my shoulders and off.

I pulled her to me for another forceful kiss, only this time, I let my hands wander every place there was bare flesh ... which just happened to be everywhere. I paid particular attention to her breasts, and she moaned loudly into my mouth. I pushed her hard, back onto the bed, and I kept stroking, petting, touching and pinching her nipples, breasts, sides, belly and nether region. When she threw back her head and groaned loudly, I slid down and plastered my lips to the top of her pussy, sucking in her clitoris, which was very fat and hard; and she seemed to transform into a writhing, bucking, straining animal. She cried out ... seemed to lose her ability to make any noise at all for ten seconds ... then cried out again, finally settling into a string of grunting exclamations: "Uh! OH! Uh! Uh!" until, after almost half a minute of this, she collapsed, unconscious.

I rose and stripped out of my pants and underwear, shoes and socks; and as I rejoined her in the bed, her eyes fluttered open, focused on me, and she kissed me again. She began frantically trying to hoist me atop her. And, laughing at her earnestness, I rolled onto her, settling myself between the legs that she threw wide in welcome. She was sopping wet (I was wearing some of her moisture on my chin); and as she drew me to herself, I hesitated, teasing her. The tip of my cock was just inside her entrance, but I pulled it out again, sliding upward, so that it slid across her clit again, making her jerk and gasp; and then easing the tip back into her again.

"David, please! Don't make me wait anymore! Hurt me! Do it now!"

"Hurt you?"

"Please! I've waited so long!"

"I don't WANT to hurt you, Wanda."

"It's alright! It will be easier after the first time! David, please! You're driving me crazy!" She lifted both of her legs and wrapped them around me, trying desperately to pull me into herself using her heels.

"First time? Are you a virgin?"

Using more strength than I knew she possessed, she used her hands around the back of my neck and her legs around my torso, and she heaved her entire body upward. In one mighty motion, she impaled herself, crying out loudly: "Aaahhh!" Then, she clutched her body to mine and just stayed like that, panting loudly and shivering. "Not anymore," she whispered in my ear.

I couldn't hold her weight, and I slowly relaxed my elbows and knees until I had settled my body onto hers. I pulled my head up until I could look into her eyes. Slowly, I pulled out of her a little, then thrust forward again, setting up a rhythm, and she moaned every time I pushed into her. I was able to hold myself in check for about a minute, but that's all. She cried out again when she felt me begin to cum, clutching me hard, but I don't think she had another orgasm. We remained like that, together, for a long, long time before I rolled off of her. I looked down at myself, surprised to see a smear of bright red blood on my shaft ... though not much.

She snuggled into my arms and put her head on my chest. "Are we going to stay here, David? Are you going to take the job?"

I stroked her hair. "Probably. I wasn't too keen on Tony's sales pitch; but Billy offered me something that I can't refuse."

"What?"

"Friendship." I thought about that for a long minute; then I untangled myself from Wanda's embrace and got out of bed.

"Don't go!" she pleaded.

But I reached out, put my right hand against the side of her face, watched for a moment while she kissed my palm and pressed lovingly into it; and I calmly said: "Sleep time, Wanda." For a moment, I didn't think she was going to react to that; but then, as I watched, her eyes blinked once, then again more slowly, and with a moan of unrestrained ecstasy, she slumped into a deep sleep. I moved her head gently to the pillow, watched her for a few moments, and went into the bathroom, where I cleaned myself and drew a hot bath.

Back in the room, I spoke to her for awhile while I dressed, just to see if it was possible for me to instill a post hypnotic suggestion; and then I counted to three. She awoke slowly; but once fully conscious, she sat up and hugged me again. "Please don't leave."

"I need to go see Billy and Betty," I told her. "I'll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, I filled the bathtub for you. I suspect you're sore."

She smiled. "I could go with you! I'm not afraid anymore. And I need to apologize to them. I've been afraid of the unknown my whole life; and I freak out at the sight of bats or bugs or snakes or spiders. But ... I can face HIM now. Will you wait for me?"

"I need to do this alone," I said. "Maybe we can have dinner with them or something. I'll be back soon, I promise."

I kissed her and left, navigating by instinct, which, as it turned out, was pretty good. Betty answered my knock. "You're back!" she exclaimed. "How did the interview with Tony go? Are you going to come work for us?"

"I think so," I responded, stepping inside. "I'd like to discuss something that's on my mind, though."

"Sure. Billy's in his office. Go on back."

"Actually ... it's not just him I need to talk to. In fact, it's mostly YOU." She gave me a curious look, so I got right to the point. "Tony hypnotized Wanda."

She smiled knowingly. "He's very good at that. I imagine that Riya suggested he could help her with her perception of Billy."

"Well ... he did a lot more than that!"

Her strange little smile didn't fade. "He can be very ... persuasive. But ... I don't think he really implants memories or changes the way a woman thinks. He just builds on the desires she already has."

I regarded her. "He's ... done that to you?"

"Oh, yes."

"And ... you don't believe you're changed by it? Does he ... reinforce his suggestions?"

"He helped me understand the feelings I already had. And ... he has never hypnotized me again, after that first night I consented to let him. BILLY has. He puts me under almost every day. In fact, if he forgets a day, I often wind up begging him for it. I love surrendering to him. It's the best feeling in the whole world." She watched me to make sure she had answered my questions satisfactorily. "Now ... do you still want to talk to Billy?"

"I need to speak to both of you together," I answered.

She gave me a curious look, but led the way. Billy seemed sincerely glad to see me, and after a few casual comments, I came right to the point. "Billy ... I think it's time you 'came out,'" I told him flatly.

"I'm not gay, mate," he said, grinning.

I still couldn't read his expressions. "No. But you could take a lesson from them. You need to stop hiding, my friend. You need to take your beautiful wife out to dinner ... or to a show ... or dancing. She deserves that ... and so do you."

"Y' saw how people react to me, David," he said slowly, carefully. "When I go out, it's a freak show."

"Maybe it used to be; but not anymore. Not now that you've got HER on your arm." I pointed toward Betty.

He studied me for a long moment. "I don't catch yer drift."

I sat down in one of the desk chairs and leaned toward him, my elbows on my knees, gesturing with my hands. Betty had moved to his side ... the place to which she always seemed to naturally gravitate. "Listen," I said emphatically. "Sooner or later, someone's going to get a picture. And when they do, you're right ... it'll be a freak show. And before that happens, you REALLY need to take charge of the situation and do it on your own terms. So ... go out big! Find some national daytime talk show and schedule an appearance. Any of them would jump at the chance. But ... let them know that there'll be a catch. You never go anywhere alone. You only go with your wife. Period. And THAT will put all the chips on your side of the table."

They were both staring at me, open-mouthed. "Haven't you two ever looked in a mirror?" I asked them. "Don't you have any idea what you LOOK like?" Still they just stood there, staring, uncomprehending.

"Look, Billy," I pleaded. "If Betty is at your side ... and I mean ALWAYS at your side ... always touching you, holding your hand, putting her hand on your arm, like she's doing right now ... then it's no longer about your appearance; it's about HER! It's about her accepting you for who you are; and silently challenging everyone else in the world to do the same thing! It's no longer about physical deformity ... it's about acceptance; and tolerance; and open mindedness. People will look at her, and they will literally be FORCED to accept you. OR, they will be forced to accept their own prejudice. Betty cannot be ignored!" He blinked at me and shuffled his feet a little.

"Sure it will take some guts," I continued, "but just think about what you can accomplish! You know that asshole who has offered the ten thousand dollar reward for a picture of you? Show yourself, and then openly challenge him to donate that money to some charity that fights and corrects birth defects! Or, hell; start your own charity! Establish a hospital right here in the Raleigh-Durham area that provides corrective surgery for youngsters around the world whose parents can't afford those procedures."

I rose and walked toward the door. "Just think about it, Billy," I persisted. "But if you're going to do it, it'll have to be soon. The way Tony's handling things, you are probably going to wind up being one of the richest people in the country real soon now. And Tony can't confiscate EVERYBODY'S camera!"

"Yeah. Thanks. I'll think on it," he said. And then, as an afterthought: "You ... wanna come to dinner tonight?"

"We'd love to. Thanks. Maybe with Tony and Riya, too?"

Betty hurried after me and walked me through the living room and to the door. Before I knew what had happened, she had spun me around, hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, and turned and walked away from me before I could see the expression on her face.

The whole thing had left me feeling pretty good. And when I opened the door to "our room" and walked in, I felt even better. Wanda sat in the center of the bed, yoga-style, looking at some magazine ... stark naked.

"David! Come look at this!" I walked over and glance down at it, though the person holding it was much more picturesque. It was one of those real estate mags. "Can you believe this? Thirty-five hundred square feet on half an acre! And look at the price! In San Francisco, you can't touch a two-bedroom for that!"

I laughed at her. "What's your point?"

"Are we moving here, David?"

I gave her my most patronizing smile. "We?"

She scrambled out of bed and stood as close to me as she could, her nipples rubbing against my shirt; and she looked up questioningly into my eyes, searching for something. She must have found it, because she smiled gently and rested the side of her face against my chest. "Silly boy," she muttered. She sighed heavily. "If you ever want to send me away, I'll go. But I don't think you will. For almost two years, I listened to my head; but now I'll only listen to my heart. I love you more than life. I belong to you."

I put my arms around her. "Are you ... alright? I made you bleed."

She shrugged. "That happens, you know. That's natural. I'm a little sore right now; but soon it will be ... perfect." She slowly pulled me around so that I was facing the door, and then with a movement that caught me completely by surprise, she shoved me hard. The backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed and I fell back, bouncing a little on the mattress. In ten seconds flat, she had unfastened my belt, undone my pants and unzipped the fly. She pulled them down, along with my underwear, to my knees. I'd gotten hard while I held her, and my cock pointed mightily skyward. Her hands were around it now, and her mouth engulfed me. I threw back my head and groaned.

I wanted to be aggressive for her, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Instead, I muttered: "You ... you don't have to ... Oh, jeeez!" She sucked like a vacuum, and her hands were stroking me up and down. For a full two minutes, she kept up the pace. "You learned this from the internet?" I gasped.

She issued a "mmm mmmphh!" around my shaft and refused to slow down.

"Wanda ... Wanda, you should pull back now. I'm ... I'm going to ..." I arched up at her. "Oh, God, Wanda! I'm going to ..."

But she only increased her efforts. With a roar, I came hard. I looked down at her ... watched her cheeks and throat work as she swallowed. And then she coughed ... laughed ... and coughed again. She was laughing hard now, and she abandoned sucking for licking, unable to maintain the former due to her hysterics. "Tapioca pudding!" she exclaimed, giggling uncontrollably. "It tastes like tapioca pudding! Oh gosh, I love you!"

**************

By the time we returned to North Carolina for Tony and Riya's wedding, we were ready to stay. Tony had purchased the mine in Uruguay, and for better or for worse, my fortunes were now tied to the Bionicci family purse strings.

I had never officially been introduced to Belinda, but we attended that wedding, too ... where Betty was the maid of honor. The whole ceremony, mass and all, seemed to have been staged for the benefit of the groom's mother, Mrs. Cellini, from New Jersey. Tony let us know, (very confidentially), that as far as the lucky couple was concerned, it was simply an act to formally solidify the master-slave relationship; and that the reason Belinda was moving so slowly during the ceremony was that she was wearing a butt plug and nipple clamps under her virginal white wedding gown.

Wanda and I waited until the next summer to tie the knot, but we purchased a house in Durham in March. It wasn't far from the BQPC offices that housed my laboratory (and my hand-picked research staff). Wanda took charge of the laser work. We had always worked well together, and that certainly hasn't changed. I drive to the mansion once a week, where Billy and I have our little math brainstorming sessions. Sometimes, Wanda and Riya join us. And it was during one of those little "mega-sessions" that we actually DID change the world. But that's another story.

And as for Betty ... Betty the Beauty, as Riya likes to say ... well, things turned out pretty much as I had forecast. She is the spokesperson for their very successful charity; and though she is actually terrified of the spotlight, but she faces it every day in the name of love. And ... there are plenty of pictures of Billy now ... but not one is of him alone. It's all about her: her innocent loveliness, her earnest devotion, her dedication and unselfishness; and most of all, her daring, bold, in-your-face effort to challenge bigotry and prejudice. Sweet, shy, timid little Betty. The bravest woman I have ever met.

THE END



Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 01



Chapter One

Cinderella's Seduction

Startled, Cindy looked up from her seat as the inner door opened and an incredibly beautiful young woman emerged. The girl looked miserably sad, shaking visibly, her lower lip trembling. She also looked ... perfect; her blonde hair long and flowing, her eyes large and round and evenly spaced on her ideal face, her nose pert, her lips full and red. She had the figure of a supermodel, with firm bosom and hips framing an almost impossibly slender waist. The girl was suddenly startled to see Cindy sitting there, waiting, and after a second's pause, she burst into tears and fled through the room, sobbing.

Cindy sat there, aghast, and a single word flooded out all other thoughts: Why? If a girl like THAT had been rejected, then why even consider putting herself through something that was bound to be the most embarrassing ordeal of her entire life? Why take up the valuable time of the interviewer? Why delude herself any further, thinking that her silly dream ... her silly fantasy ... had any chance at all of coming true?

She rose to go, then stood rooted to the spot as the inner door opened again.

"Cindy?" the woman asked. She was holding a yellow legal pad in one hand, a pencil in the other. This woman was beautiful, too, with coal-black hair streaming past straight, thin shoulders that caused her generous breasts to point accusingly forward, as if saying, "Mine are firmer than yours, little girl ... These are the breasts of a REAL woman." Everything about this lady was proud, feminine, demanding. When she smiled, like she was doing now, her eyes were almost gleeful in their depth and knowledge and self assurance. Cindy stood mute, nervous, her hands by her sides, twitching nervously, the form she had filled out rustling and fluttering as she clutched it. "It's a yes-or-no question," he woman said patiently.

"Yes," Cindy squeaked.

Without another glance, the woman turned her back and walked back into the inner room. "Come in and have a seat, please. And close the door."

Cindy was thinking so hard about bolting in the other directions that she stumbled as her feet, seemingly acting on their own, began shuffling after the woman. She paused momentarily to close herself into the room with the strikingly pretty lady by gently shutting the door, then she hurried to the chair in front of the desk and perched her bottom precariously on its forward edge. She gulped nervously, trying to fathom what the woman wanted. She was holding out her hand toward her, palm up. With a start, Cindy lurched forward and deposited the form she had filled out into the outstretched hand, before once again taking her seat. The woman's lips twitched slightly into a bemused smile, though it was obvious she was trying to remain serious-looking.

"Breathe," the lady muttered.

Cindy blinked. "What?"

"Take a breath, girl. Don't pass out on me."

With a conscious effort, Cindy took a gulp of air. She tried to will herself into calm alertness, but instead found her thoughts flitting around like wild birds.

"So, Cindy," the woman asked without looking up. "Why do you want to be a sex slave?"

All at once, the room seemed to shift unsteadily. So ... there is it was. The phrase had finally been spoken. It was suddenly ... real. She tried to swallow, but found that her mouth was too dry to accomplish the task. Her lips parted to answer ... closed ... opened again, soundlessly. She was suddenly concerned about tipping forward out of the chair, and tried to push herself back in the seat, only succeeding in scraping the thing backwards on the floor. "I ... uh ... I think that ... um ... I ... think that ... maybe I've made a mistake," she finally said, haltingly. She stood up.

The woman glanced up at her with a placid look on her face. "SIT!" she barked. Cindy sat. Hard. "Put your knees together!" the woman continued firmly, without raising her voice. "Hands in your lap! Sit up straight!" She paused and scanned the form. "Now," she continued mildly, sweetly, "what makes you think that you've made a mistake?"

Cindy's speech rushed ahead now. "The girl that just left ... she was ... beautiful."

"Yes," the woman replied. "Yes she was, wasn't she? Exceedingly nice figure. Very experienced, too. She had been a sex slave before, to a dominant couple out east, near Lexington. Very submissive. And VERY pretty."

"But ... I'm not," Cindy insisted, earnestly. "I'm NOT pretty. And I DON'T have a nice figure. And I'm NOT experienced as a s-s-sex s-s-slave. I can't even SAY it! I'm plain and I'm overweight and I'm dumpy and I'm clumsy and I'm sitting here wasting your time because I want ... I want to ... um ...."

"I will be the one to decide whether or not you're wasting my time," the woman interrupted. "Now, I will ask you some questions, and you will answer them. Is that clear?"

Cindy blushed and lowered her gaze to her folded hands. "Yes, ma'am."

"Is this form completely honest? Are all your answers absolutely true?"

"Yes, ma'am," Cindy answered earnestly, looking up.

"You've entered your first name as 'Cindy.' That can't be absolutely true, can it? It's a nickname, isn't it?"

Cindy was suddenly taken by the woman's serious tone. "Yes, ma'am. I didn't mean to ... I mean, everybody's always called me Cindy."

"I insist on attention to detail," the woman enthused. "So ... what is it? Cynthia?"

"No, ma'am. It's ... Cinderella."

The woman blinked up at her. "You've got to be kidding me."

"My mother was ... um ... rather fanciful."

The lady's lips twitched again and she put her hand over her mouth and coughed gently. "Fanciful." She looked back down at the form. "Okay, you win. We'll leave it as Cindy." She finally looked up, giving Cindy her full attention. She pushed her office chair back and crossed her slender legs. "Alright, Cindy, let's try a different question. How did you hear about our little ... opening here?"

"I saw it in a magazine," Cindy answered.

"Which one? I put the ad in three, plus on a couple internet sites."

"It was called 'Velvet Chains," Cindy answered quietly.

"Do you read that particular publication often?"

"No, ma'am. I'd never heard of it before. I didn't even know there WERE such magazines!" Cindy paused and took a breath. "There were five of us, up in a hotel room in Toledo. We were there for a big debate team finalist tournament at the University. I'm not a debater ... I'm just a researcher. Anyway, there were three of us in one room and two in another, and one of the girls had gotten a bottle of wine, and the five of us got together in one of the rooms, and we were each having a glass ... just sitting around talking. And Rhonda said that perverts were always reading porn magazines and leaving them in hotel rooms, and they always thought that they were leaving them in places where no one would ever think of looking, but they always left them in the SAME places! And so she started looking between the mattresses, but there weren't any there, so we were really starting to get on her case. And then she pulled out the bottom drawer of the bureau, and she had to play with some little catches on the sides to get the drawer out ... but sure enough, there were a couple of girly magazines on the floor, under the drawer.

"Well, two of the girls started reading them out loud, taking turns; things like "letters to the editor" and stuff. And then Rhonda shrieked 'Listen to THIS! Here's an ad from a couple in Louisville! Who wants a SEX SLAVE!' And she read the ad, and the other girls were all laughing and giggling that somebody in our home town would write something like that. But ... you just wouldn't believe how that affected ME! Because, you didn't use the words 'sex slave' ... you just used the word 'slave.' And sure, it was in a sex MAGAZINE, and so sure, it was naturally assumed that sex would be an important part of it ... but I mean ... 'slave.' Just 'slave.' That means so much MORE than sex. That means ... everything! And it took just about all the willpower I had to keep from just moaning and crumpling up into a little ball on the floor, just THINKING about it!

"But then, it was time to go out for dinner, and so Rhonda hid the magazines again and we all went downstairs. But I told them that I'd forgotten my money and that I'd meet them at the restaurant, and I ran back up and looked at the magazine again, because Rhonda hadn't read the email address for contacting you."

"What did you do?" the woman asked, interested in the story. "Did you copy it down or tear the ad out?"

"Oh, I COULDN'T do either of those. The others might find a note. And they'd DEFINITELY notice that the ad was gone if they read the magazine again when we all came back. No ... I memorized it."

"Memorized it? The whole thing? It was a pretty long ad." The woman thought a moment. "Do you still remember it?"

"I don't think I'll forget it as long as I live," Cindy replied, "even if I DON'T get your ... um ... position." She closed her eyes, thinking back. "WANTED. SLAVE. Louisville, KY Area. No experience necessary. We desire a young woman who will live with us for the rest of her life. We offer protection and guidance. In return, she will surrender her heart, body, mind and soul ... forever. She will be trained through the use of ultra-deep hypnosis. Her commitment must be total, complete and unequivocal. Contact mzdominant4541@velvetchains.net." 

The woman leaned back and didn't try to hide the smile that graced her red lips. Cindy had recited the mantra without looking up, and now, she kept her eyes submissively on her hands.

"Stand up," the woman ordered. Cindy did so, still keeping her gaze lowered. "Take off your blouse, please. Quickly."

A shudder went through Cindy's whole body, but her fingers immediately went to the top button of her blouse. One by one, she undid them, having to pull her blouse free of the skirt to release the bottom two. Blushing crimson, she slowly slid the garment off her shoulders, and stood for long moments with it in her hands, uncertain whether to drop it or hold it. Finally, not receiving any further orders, she folded it and laid it across the back of her chair, then turned again to face her interviewer. It took every ounce of her inner strength to allow her arms to fall to her sides.

"Good Lord, girl, what have you done to yourself?" the woman asked. Cindy looked up, puzzled. "That bra has got to be two sizes too small!" the lady continued. "Take it off! Now!"

For a moment, the room swam around her, but then Cindy slowly raised her arms, reached behind her, and worked for several long seconds to release the catch of her brassier. It finally let go with a dull, twanging sound, and the restraining undergarment sprang forward around her body, one end trapped under her arm. Cindy couldn't keep the contented sigh from her lips as her breasts were released from their prison, and she stood, swaying slightly, wondering if she was about to faint from the raw feeling of embarrassment. She looked up, blushing, nervous. The woman was holding out her hand toward her again. Cindy reached out and gave her the bra. Then, she drew her arms upward, crossing them near her chest, before she noticed the stern stare the woman was giving her. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and lowered her arms again to her sides.

"34C?" the woman asked, accusingly. "Are you out of your mind? Why do you DO that!?"

"It's the size I've worn for years," Cindy said defensively. "I know I'm getting larger. I know I weigh too much. I know I'm a ... a cow! I'm grotesque! I sag!"

"Well, of course you sag a little, Cindy. You're BIG! Learn to live with it!"

"When I'm old, I'm going to be one of those women who is so massive that all people can think about is her tits!" Cindy almost wailed. "It's the chicken!"

The lady spat out a bark of a laugh. "It's the what!?"

"Chicken! Poultry farmers are putting more and more growth hormones in their chicken feed. Breast meat is more expensive than dark meat ... so they breed their chickens with bigger and bigger breasts. They've grown them so disproportionate that some breeds can't even stand up, their breasts are so large! And the hormones are finding their way into our food supply. In the past twenty years, the average American bra size has gone from 34C to 36D! The average girl starts her period eight months earlier! She's sexually active sooner!"

The woman was laughing gently now. "Because of chickens," she said.

Cindy calmed down. "I eat a lot of chicken," she said, shrugging.

"Well, whether it's chickens or hormones or a divine gift, it's no reason to smash yourself into a bra that's too small, girl."

"You don't understand," Cindy muttered miserably. "You're beautiful. You're slim. When you're fat and plain, then having monster boobs only adds to the perception that you're ... NOT slim and beautiful. It means that ...."

"Enough!" the woman barked. She surveyed Cindy for a long moment, then seemed to make up her mind about something. She put the bra down and pressed a button on the corner of the desk. "I want you to stand right there. Keep your hands at your sides. Do not move. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Cindy whispered. She heard footsteps outside the door and suddenly understood what the button did. "Oh my!" she muttered under her breath. The door opened.

The man who walked into the room was the same man who had shown her into the mansion and led her to the room beyond the door ... the one who had given her the form to fill out. She had asked him a pleasant question: Had he worked here long? But he had just shrugged and remained silent. Now, the reason for his unresponsiveness became evident. He didn't know English. "¿Si, Señora?" he asked as he entered, and then sucked in his breath at the sight of the topless young woman standing in the center of the room. Cindy's arms trembled at her sides. The woman behind the desk was speaking in quick, fluid Spanish, writing on a piece of note paper as she did so. Reluctantly, the man tore his eyes off Cindy's bare breasts and he moved to the edge of the desk. The woman handed him the paper and pointed emphatically at what was scrawled across the top, enunciating "Victoria's Secret!" The man nodded and repeated the words. "Sustantivos. Quatro. Underwire. 38D," she emphasized, pointing again. He continued to nod, knowingly. The woman then handed him three one hundred dollar bills and waved him away, dismissing him. "Si, Señora," he repeated, walked to the door, gazed daringly at Cindy for another long moment, and was gone.

Cindy breathed a ragged, shuddering sigh.

The woman leaned back again. "Very good, Cindy. Very good, indeed." She waited for a long minute, studying her, while Cindy continued to gaze resolutely down toward her toes, which she was sure were still down there, somewhere beyond her swollen breasts and painfully erect nipples. "Put on your blouse, girl. Sit down and please keep quiet. I have a phone call to make."

Without the confining bra, the buttons on the blouse were under much more pressure than the garment's manufacturer had intended them to be. Still, there was nothing more that could really be done at this juncture, so Cindy said a little prayer to the gods of textile tensile strength and resumed her seat.

The woman was on the phone. "Roxanne? I'm sorry, but the position has been filled. Yes, I know. I'm sure that you will find someone who will give you the control you crave. Now, please don't cry. I just know you're going to make someone a very good sex slave, very soon now. Yes, that's an excellent place to go. I'm certain there will be plenty of men there who will just love making you do all sorts of things. Yes. Goodbye, dear." She hung up.

She looked up from the desk. "Congratulations, Cindy. You have the position. Now, before we begin the process of your permanent enslavement, I will grant you a single question. I will answer anything you like. One question. Fire away."

Cindy was stunned, but she didn't hesitate. "Why didn't you take the girl before me ... the pretty one?"

The woman gazed at her almost wondrously. "Of course, I'll answer you," she said quietly. "But let me just get this straight. You know that I am about to enslave you, completely and forever, right? You know that I'm about to hypnotize you ... change you ... control you, right? Don't you want to know what is about to happen to you? Aren't you just a little bit anxious about that?"

"I'm petrified," Cindy replied. "But ... if I don't find out now ... I may never know. I need to know why. My whole life, 'why' has been the most important thing. If this is to be the last question I can ask of my own free will ... then that is the one I want. Why?"

The woman smiled and nodded. "I get the impression that life with you is going to be much more interesting than I would ever have guessed," she commented. "Very well, I will tell you, though I know that you're going to find it is a very, very simple answer to what you assume is a very, very complex question." She looked Cindy in the eye. "You wrote on your form that you often do housework. Do you scrub floors?"

Cindy blinked. "Yes, we're given days when we have to help clean. I scrub floors in the dining room on Thursdays."

The woman looked confused for a moment, then shrugged. "Well," she continued, "let's face it ... no one is perfect for ANY job. Some adjustments ALWAYS have to be made. The girl before you was beautiful, but beauty was simply not one of the requisites for the ... position in question. I see in your form that you have no experience with sex. She had LOTS of experience with sex. On the other hand, she had never really worked a day in her life. I would have to provide personal training, in one way or another, with either of you. I would much rather have to teach you how to have sex than have to teach her how to scrub floors." Cindy sat, staring at her. "I told you it was a simple answer," the woman persisted.

"Yes," Cindy said quietly. "Yes, it is."

"Now, what did you mean that you have to help clean on certain days? You mean at the ..." the woman looked back down at the form, "... Academy Arms Apartments, where you live?"

Cindy suddenly looked panicked. "That's the Arms Academy," she told the woman, "not the Academy Arms. It's not an apartment building ... it's a school."

"You're in college?" the woman asked, concerned. "You're a student?"

Cindy squirmed. A button popped loose on her blouse. "I'm in high school. The Arms Academy is an orphanage. I've lived there my whole life."

The woman gawked for a moment, then looked down and searched the form frantically. "I didn't put in a question about age," she muttered, mostly to herself. "It didn't matter to me." She looked almost pleadingly at Cindy, who could no longer maintain eye contact. "How old ARE you?"

"I'm going to be eighteen in just four months," Cindy cried earnestly. "I can just work for you until then, if you want. Or I CAN have sex ... I KNOW I can! Most of the girls in my senior class have been with guys ... have had sex. I mean ... I'm the only one I KNOW who HASN'T done it yet! And I know that it's going to be alright, because whenever I think about things like your ad in the magazine ... I get a fluttery feeling in my tummy ... and I get ...."

The woman held up her hand for silence. "Yes, dear, I know. Thinking about sexual submission always makes you fluttery in your tummy ... and anatomical regions south. But now, I need you to sit there and shut up, please." Despite the order, Cindy drew a breath to further argue her case, but the lady held up a warning hand. "Quiet! Can't you see that I'm having an epiphany?"

Cindy pressed her lips together and tried not to lean forward in anticipation. She was riding an emotional roller coaster. She had been so sure, when she had first entered, that this woman would not grant her wish for being dominated ... but then, she HAD! And now .... The woman was lost in her own thoughts for many minutes, but suddenly seemed to come to her senses again. She turned her chair toward the computer sitting at one side of her desk, and she began clicking frantically with the mouse.




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 01



"Where were you born?" she asked, never looking away from the computer screen. "How long have you been in the orphanage? You said you've been there your whole life, but that isn't accurate, is it?"

Cindy swallowed. "Yes, it is. I was born there."

"Born in an orphanage?" At last, the woman looked at her.

"Yes, ma'am. My mother was a student there. She evidently ran away a lot. She had me when she was only fourteen ... and even then, she didn't stick around long. She came back when I was three years old ... just for a little while. Sometimes, I remember her ... or I think I do ... little brief memories. But she left again after that, and died on the streets from a drug overdose."

"So, you've literally been a ward of the state, assigned to this one location, since the day you were born?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you're seventeen?"

"Yes, ma'am. But in just four months ...."

"Damn, but you look mature for your age!" the woman exclaimed.

"It's not my fault," Cindy muttered to herself, wringing her hands.

"Yes, I know," the lady said in fake consolation. "It's the chickens."

Tears were leaking from the corners of both of Cindy's eyes now. She felt small and meek ... but then, she ALWAYS felt that way. However, now she felt as if her dream was crumbling. The woman was reading something on the computer screen in rapt silence. Finally, she sat back and smiled.

"You are about to be adopted, Cindy."

The girl was thunderstruck. The thought had never occurred to her. Sure, when she was little, she had dreamed about it ... dreamed about it all the time. But then the realization that no one wanted a chubby, plain girl ... and especially an older, cubby, plain girl ... had driven the dream right out of her head forever. "You ... you're going to adopt me?"

The woman smiled patiently. "No, not me. My husband is going to adopt you. He's an important figure in the area ... or at least, he used to be. No one will question him. They'll question his motives, certainly ... but not him, personally. No one would dare. I will simply remain silently in the background. You would have a father at last, but you and I wouldn't be related."

"Stepmother," Cindy said quietly, lost in thought.

"What?" the woman queried, not sure she'd heard correctly.

Cindy met her gaze uncertainly. "If your husband was my father, then you would be my stepmother. Well ... my adopted stepmother."

An incredulous look slowly blossomed into a full-fledged smile on the woman's face. She threw back her head and laughed. "Well ... I never!" she chortled. "When I was a little girl playing with dolls, I imagined myself in all sorts of fairy tales. But NEVER did I see myself as Cinderella's Stepmother! You know ... I think I sort of like it!"

The woman turned and looked at the clock over the doorway. She tore a fresh sheet of yellow paper from the pad and began writing furiously. "Okay, Cindy, we're on a tight schedule here." She added a few more items to her list. "I'm going to make a few preliminary phone calls. Do you know the name of the person who's in charge of your ... um ... Academy? Not just in charge of you, or the girls, or even the education ... but the person who actually runs the place?" She dropped her pencil and swung the chair back to face the computer.

"Mr. Cronklin is the director," Cindy said.

A few seconds later, the woman barked a laugh. "Lee Roy Cronklin! Currently under investigation by the State Health Services Department for ... child labor infractions! Ooohh! And racketeering! And fraud!" She chuckled. "What do you want to bet that old Lee Roy won't be in the country very long after he gets a cash donation for the "Academy" from your new Daddy this afternoon?"

Cindy's eyes widened. "This afternoon?"

"Moving too fast for you, Cindy?"

"Um ... no. I mean ... whatever you want ... um ... Stepmother."

The woman barked a laugh, but did not correct her. She moved away from the computer and looked across the desk at Cindy, suddenly very serious. "You need to know some things about me, Cindy. I am very ... experienced in life. It took me a long time to figure things out, but once I did, I knew exactly how the world works. While I was still in college, I learned where the REAL money comes from, and I learned how to get it. I have all the tools I need. I worked with my body at night, so I could put myself through school. Pre-Med. I specialized early ... while I was still an undergrad ... in psychology and hypnotherapy. But I never made it to grad school, because I learned, quite by chance, that there are men out there who would pay me much, much more than I would ever make as a doctor. All I had to do was combine my two ... talents. There are men ... and women, too ... who are more than happy to part with great sums of money for the feelings I can give them. They crave domination ... submission ... surrender.

"I got careless only once ... and wound up pregnant. Of course, it was also my greatest blessing. You will meet Betty soon enough ... though she's going through a bit of a ... rough time right now. Still, I did VERY well in life, if I do say so myself. My first husband was rich ... my second was richer, still. The divorce settlements were ... well ... adequate. And my current husband ...." She waved her hand around to indicate the lush furnishings in her office ... in her mansion. "Unfortunately, the pre-nup was written before I came on the scene, and I couldn't find a way to break it. He has a STAFF of lawyers! And so ... it appears that I'm stuck with him for awhile. I keep him happy, though. But ... I rather wouldn't, if you know what I mean. And that, my dear, is where YOU will come in. At least, that is one of the several gaps in our household you will fill.

"You see, I can just LOOK at a person, and tell when I can dominate him. Completely. Totally. Absolutely. I did it with my first two husbands ... we're all still on friendly terms, by the way. I did it with my husband now." She leaned forward and looked her directly in the eyes. "And I'm going to do it with YOU, Cindy."

Cindy swallowed nervously.

"I could tell the second I set eyes on you, my dear. There's a look about you ... almost an aura. I KNOW. Positively. Without a doubt. I am going to place you, firmly and completely, under my hypnotic power without any effort at all! And, oh Cindy, you're going to go SO deep for me! You know you will, don't you? This is what you WANT, isn't it?"

Cindy's lips moved for a few seconds before she could find the voice to form words around. "I ... I ... um ... I'm going to have to move out in another month. Out of the orphanage. Out on my own. I have the credits to get into college ... but I'm ... SO scared! People have been telling me what to do my whole life. What am I going to do when there's no one there to tell me anymore? I ... NEED someone to tell me ... to order me ... to take charge of me. Like you said in your ad. I want to be someone's slave. I want to give my body to someone ... even if it isn't a very pretty body ... but I ... I want ... um .... I need ...."

"I understand, my dear," the woman interrupted. "Very well, then." She looked down at her list, then at the clock again. "First, I'll give my husband a little session ... that shouldn't take too long. Then I'll give him a little eyeful of you ... he'll enjoy THAT, I'm sure. Then I'll have him arrange for a donation for our friend Lee Roy to mishandle while I make the arrangements with the man himself to do the work on your adoption. And that should give me just about an hour for YOU, before you go and sign the papers and begin your new life with us. Hopefully, Pablo will be back from the mall with your new bras by then. In the meantime ...."

She rose and came around the desk, standing above Cindy, then she reached down and undid the top button of the blouse (the second button seemed to be missing), revealing a great deal of flesh above and between the girl's breasts. Cindy swallowed hard again and kept her eyes downcast. "Stay that way, please. Don't move from your chair. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Stepmother."

Time seemed to drag out interminably, and Cindy, casting flitting glances at the clock above the door, more than once assumed the thing had stopped. At length, she heard voices in the outer room; one obviously masculine, the other belonging to the woman she now thought of as Stepmother. She strained her ears to hear, but couldn't distinguish individual words. Eventually, Stepmother's voice was the only one she could hear speaking, and then she jumped in her seat as a surprisingly loud sound seemed to permeate the room as if it was amplified. It was undoubtedly coming from the adjoining room, where the voices were coming from, and it was like nothing she had ever heard before. Not a clock, certainly. Not a tick-tock, because each sound was equally modulated. More of a clack ... clack ... clack ...clack ... evenly spaced. Slow. Steady. Never-ending. And loud. Cindy believed that, whatever it was, it might possibly be heard throughout the house.

And then, it stopped.

A few moments later, the door opened and Stepmother appeared, motioning to her to get up and come into the next room. Cindy did so immediately, and came face to face with a distinguished-looking man in a tweed sports coat. He was tall, and his grey hair was thick, without a hint of balding. He had once been muscular, but was now tending a little toward fat ... a fallen athlete who leaned slightly on a cane with a silver knob for a handle. He was smiling pleasantly at Cindy's breasts.

"Dear, this is Cindy. Isn't she just wonderful!?" enthused Stepmother.

"Indeed she is!" the man said to Cindy's tits. "You are certainly everything my wife said you were, my dear. Let me get a good look at you." He held out his hand to her, and when Cindy took it in her own, she allowed the old man to lift it and spin her around. His eyes never left her chest.

"I'm going to do everything in my power to make you my own daughter ... immediately. You will be a springtime in the winter of my life," he told Cindy's boobs.

"Um ... Thank you ... Daddy," she stuttered.

"Oh, my dear, you have no idea how happy you make me when you say that." And he grabbed Cindy by the shoulders and pulled her to him in a tight (very tight) hug that mashed her breasts into his own strong chest. His hands strayed to her waist, clutching her to him, then strayed lower still.

"OH!" Cindy squeaked. He released her, and she staggered a step back away from him.

"You check the safe for the cash donation we talked about, darling," Stepmother said, smiling. "I'll call Mr. Cronklin and arrange the meeting and final paperwork. And then Cindy will be all yours."

"Oh, yes," the old man told Cindy's mammaries. "Yes, the sooner, the better."

"I need to talk to Cindy for awhile before we go, dear. Let's shoot for ... four o'clock? Will you be ready by then?"

"I'll be ready," he told Cindy's knockers emphatically. And he finally tore his eyes from her, turned and left.

"Oh, my," Cindy said breathlessly.

"Don't worry, dear," Stepmother said, putting her arm around Cindy's waist, "he's really just a pussycat. However, even pussycats must be cared for from time to time." She pointed toward an easy chair in the corner of the room. "Go sit down there, please. It's your turn."

"My turn?"

"It's time, Cindy. It's time to surrender. Are you ready?"

Cindy took a faltering step forward, stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and walked steadfastly to the chair and sat down. Smiling, Stepmother followed, reached up to a shelf on the wall, and took down a wooden box that looked like an elongated pyramid. She pulled a small, wheeled table in front of the chair and set the box on it, directly in front of her. Cindy realized what it was just before Stepmother took the lid off of it; she'd seen one in the music lab at school ... a metronome. Stepmother left it sitting there, then turned and took Cindy's wrist in her hand, feeling her pulse while she consulted her watch. Her lips moved silently as she counted. Finally, she released the wrist, adjusted something on the metronome, wound it using a key in the back of the device, and set it swinging.

And it went: clack ... clack ... clack ... clack.

"Are you ready, Cindy?" she whispered in her ear.

"Yes, Stepmother."

The metronome, Cindy thought, was of sufficient volume to drown out almost anything said. However, Stepmother had drawn a wooden chair beside and slightly behind the easy chair in which she sat, leaned forward next to her, placed her lips at her ear, and whispered softly. Her words were clear and supple, seeming to vibrate, deep inside her inner ear, wrapping themselves around her mind.

"Relax for me, Cindy. Relax, my dear. You will never forget this, your first time in my chair ... and never forget this, my first ... and most effective ... device for capturing your attention ... for making your mind slow down ... slow ... down ... slow ... down."

Cindy was aware that her left wrist was again in Stepmother's hand. "Slow ... down ... slow ... down ...." Clack ... clack ... clack ... clack. "Be calm for me, Cindy. Just sit here and be calm, while I make a little adjustment." The metronome stopped, and Cindy blinked at it. Stepmother fiddled with it for a moment, then wrote something on a piece of paper, before allowing it to resume its perpetual swing. Clack ... clack ... clack. "And ... back to a very relaxed state, now, Cindy," Stepmother's soft voice breathed in her ear. "The device is set just for you ... just exactly to your speed ... yours and yours alone ... the perfect speed to take your thoughts away ... the perfect speed to make it ... SO ... hard ... to ... think. Are you still afraid, Cindy?"

Cindy's eyes followed the device that had been set specifically for her ... specifically to make her thoughts go away ... back and forth ... and ... back ... and ... forth. "I ... um ...I ...."

"That's alright, Cindy," Stepmother whispered. "I know ... I know ... and don't worry, my darling, any fear will soon be gone. As soon as you allow the device to take away your thoughts ... as soon as your thoughts stop ... the last of your fear will stop with it. It will be gone ... your fear will be gone ... and your thoughts will be gone ... and it will be SO nice not ... to ... worry ... and ... not ... to ... think." Clack ... clack ... clack.

"Oh, Cindy," (and the slight "s" sound in "Cindy" seemed to travel the length of her ear canal and right into her brain, making her body shiver, making her mind shiver) "Oh, Cindy, you're such a wonderful subject for hypnosis. You are already in a light trance for me ... already starting down ... and ... down ... and ... down ... deeper ... deeper ... deeper. And as you drift down ... and ... down ... your mind slows down ... slows ... down. And soon it will stop. But only your conscious mind ... the one that hears the device ... will soon stop. And your subconscious mind will follow me ... follow my words ... follow my voice ... follow ... follow. And when your mind slows all the way down ... all the way down ... all the way down and stops; then you will be asleep. Your conscious mind will stop and be asleep. Do you understand, dear?"

"Yes Stepmother," Cindy said at once, not sure where she had found the words or the voice or the thoughts to say them.

"And where will you be when your thoughts finally stop?"

"Asleeeep."

"Wonderful, Cindy. You're such a good subject. Such a good slave. You're such a good girl, Cindy. Good girl." Cindy felt her mouth relax into a smile. "And so, now it's time to start feeling sleepy for me, Cindy. As your mind slows down ... and ... down ...." Clack ... clack ... clack ... "and ... down ... and soon it will stop, and soon you will be asleep, and your mind is getting SO slow now. And you're SO sleepy now. So sleepy ... so ... sleepy ... so ...." Clack ... clack .... "sleepy ... and ... let ... your ... mind ... stop ... now."

In Cindy's dream, she was seated in a wonderfully comfortable chair, and she was asleep while the metronome continued its never-ending journey. The sound was loud and distinct and comforting and real, and it was all she could hear, even though Stepmother continued to whisper and whisper and whisper in her ear. 

But now, it was time to go deeper, and it took a little concentration on Cindy's part to achieve this task; which was not at all easy, considering that concentration is very difficult to accomplish without thought, and she was most certainly incapable of that. And so she decided to imagine that the sounds she was hearing were actually stairs, and as each "clack" occurred, she took a step lower ... and ... lower ... and ... down and down and down she went. A pretty nice idea, she decided, for someone who could not have ideas.

The sounds of the metronome began to diminish when she was this deep ... so very deep. She knew that Stepmother was speaking to her again, because her ear shivered, and her mind beyond that, but even then, the clacking of the uninterrupted machine was the only true sound she was aware of. And then it stopped. And she woke up.

Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lips. She felt like she did sometimes when her alarm went off by mistake, in the middle of the night, and she was reluctant to claim the consciousness necessary to turn it off. Stepmother smiled down on her. "It's alright, Cindy, just relax, deep in the chair for me, and I'll let you go back to sleep in a moment."

"Yes, Stepmother," Cindy said groggily. She settled even further into the chair, feeling the fabric against her bare back and butt.

"And now, Cindy, I want you to stay relaxed for me ... don't become excited ... just stay sleepy ... and become aware."

And Cindy immediately realized that she was no longer wearing any clothes. She was completely naked. "Stepmother, my clothes are ... um ... gone." The thought came to her that she ought to cover herself, but she was too tired to exert the effort.

"Yes, dear. I've noticed. What happened to them?"

"I ... I ... don't know. I know I was wearing them when I sat down."

Stepmother made a little clicking sound of disapproval with her tongue. "This isn't good at all, Cindy. You must be VERY embarrassed."

"Yes, Stepmother," Cindy whimpered miserably. 

"VERY ashamed."

"Yes, Stepmother. Please ...."

"Please, what, Cindy?"

"Please ... please make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

"This ... feeling. This ... shame. Please ... please hypnotize me. Please make my mind stop. Please make the shame stop."

"Each time I hypnotize you, you will go deeper than the time before. You will go MUCH deeper this time. Is that what you really want, my dear? "

"Oh, Yes! Oh, Please, Stepmother!"

"Very well then, watch the crystal, please." And she held a cut crystal up, just in front of Cindy's eyes. It was on the end of a monofilament thread, and it stayed still, spinning, spinning. Cindy concentrated all her attention on it, watching, rapt, as the crystal fractured the room's light into a hundred flashing colors. "See nothing but the crystal ... hear nothing but my voice ... as the crystal goes around ... and around ... and ... around ... and ... let ... your ... mind ... slow ... down ... slow ... down."

The crystal was slowing its rapid rotation, and as it did so, Stepmother's words slowed with it. "And ... now ... there ... is nothing ... but ... the crystal ... nothing ... but ... my ... voice ... and you're so ... sleepy ... so ... sleepy ... as your mind ... slows ... down ... and ... stops."

In Cindy's dream, she was walking down and down a spiral staircase, and going deeper and deeper as she went. Her nudity didn't really matter anymore, because this was a very, very personal dream, and she was alone. Somewhere above her, the crystal was spinning in the sunlight, and as it did, she found herself following the bits of color on the walls, as they led her ever downward. Stepmother was whispering in her ear again, she knew, but in her dream, she was aware only of the importance of going down ... down.




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 01



"Wake up, Cindy," Stepmother said, distinctly. And she bounced up, sitting straight in this wonderful chair. And she felt awake ... alive ... wonderful! Stepmother helped her up, and standing, they were both laughing for no apparent reason. 

Cindy had never been so happy. 



Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 03



Chapter Three

Cinderella's Humiliation

Cindy awoke to her alarm at six-thirty, and she found that if she put out her hand as far as she could, she could silence the thing by hitting the snooze bar at its top. She stretched languorously, relishing the feeling of the fresh sheet covering her naked form, the down-filled mattress pad beneath her, the feather pillows upon which her tousled hair was spread. She surveyed the room ... her room. Her very own room. She felt the towel, still between her thighs, and the previous evening's events came back to her. Tentatively, she reached a probing finger to her sex, and she groaned softly. She was sore there.

The alarm went off again, and this time, she sat up and wheeled around to sit on the bed's edge. Eventually, she found the switch that would permanently silence the offending clock, and only after that task had been accomplished did she remember her nudity and the fact that the room had no door. She stood and raced to the closet, where the robe hung on the hook where she had placed it the evening before when she had left the room for last night's shower. Finally relieved of her panic (which was getting to be an all-too-frequent feeling in her life), she settled her mind to the task of planning her morning. This was difficult, considering she had no idea what was expected of her. But there, on her dresser, was a hand-scrawled note from Stepmother:

Cindy,

You will awake each day (except Sunday) at 6:30. Eat breakfast on your own in the family dining room, where we ate dinner last night. Your workday begins at 8:00. I will find you then and discuss your duties. You made me very proud of you last night. And you made your new father gloriously happy.

- Your SM

She couldn't keep the smile from her lips. "You are a woman now," she told herself. She decided to make her bed first, and had problems smoothing out the lumps until she remembered the towel. It was stained, she found, with a rather small amount of dried blood and a rather large amount of dry, crusty white stuff. She wasn't so naïve that she didn't know what it was, but it was her first encounter with the physical detritus of the sexual act, and it intrigued her, especially the fact that there was so much of it. 

But then she suddenly realized that there were two full shopping bags of things that had to be put away in her bathroom, so she slipped the robe off (she simply couldn't keep herself from casting nervous glances at the open doorway ... and she knew, somehow, that she never would get used to this), wrapped the soiled towel around her, tucking it firmly between her breasts to keep it in place, picked up the bags, and hurried down the hall to the bathroom.

The first order was to inspect the strange thing Stepmother had shown her here last night. A douche, the package said ... "for vaginal irrigation." She blushed. How could she have lived in a building full of females her whole life and never learned about this? But a small slip of paper inside the box gave instructions in VERY graphic detail. She used it, then put it away, far in the back of the linen closet behind the towels, and stepped into the shower. Like last night, it felt marvelous! She scrubbed and lathered and rinsed, then spent five full minutes on her hair, using the shampoo and conditioner from the shopping bags. She dried herself with a fresh towel and used the new hair dryer in front of the mirror (which also let her see the hallway through the non-existent door behind her naked figure). She chose yet another fresh towel to wear back to her room. 

It was almost 7:45 by the time she walked into the dining room, dressed in her "uniform," only to find that there was no one else around. Various cold foods had been set out on one side of the table, and there were eggs and sausages in a steam-warmer. Everything here was fabulous, she decided.

But at exactly 8:00, Stepmother appeared and waved a hand for her to follow. Cindy's life of servitude had begun. A three-page diagram of each of the three floors of the mansion was hers for the keeping, and she followed along as she was introduced, first to the laundry facilities and storage rooms in the basement, and then to the various rooms on the first floor. Many of these were used only once in a great while ... ballrooms, meeting rooms, that sort of thing. Stepmother spoke constantly, explaining this or that, what to do, what to avoid, what she must NEVER do ... take a vacuum cleaner into the Stamp Room, for example (Daddy had an extreme fear of one of his precious stamps getting sucked up by a cleaning device).

It was as they were leaving the Stamp Room that they bumped into the man himself, who bade them both a cheerful good morning and begged to have a quick word alone with his new daughter. Stepmother smiled briefly, more of a knowing grin, and walked out of the room, saying to please be quick about it. But upon her exit, Cindy found herself engulfed by his arms and practically smothered in a passionate hug. "Cindy, my love, I want you to know that last night was exquisite! But please, I beg for your discretion! Not a word to my wife of what we did! Ours must be a secret love! Do you promise?"

She couldn't help but laugh at his language, but when he drew back to look questioningly at her, she covered her reaction with another laugh. "Oh, Daddy, I'm just very happy, that's all! Of course I'll keep our love a secret. And I'll be ready for you again whenever you want me!"

He looked back down almost shyly, breaking eye contact. "I ... I want you constantly, my dear. But at my age, wanting you and having the ABILITY to take you are two entirely different things. I am afraid that I can only work up the physical strength for the act every so often."

Cindy smiled and kissed his cheek. "How often, Daddy?"

"Let's say ... um ... once a week?"

"Then Wednesday will be "our day," she told him, and snuggled herself into his arms again.

"Oh, Cindy, I can't believe the depth of your patience and understanding and passion and ...."

"I love you, Daddy," she said simply.

"And we mustn't let her learn of our affair!"

"It will be our secret."

"Are you through giving Cindy instructions about cleaning the Stamp Room?" Stepmother's voice called from the hall.

"Yes, dear!" Daddy yelled back. 

Cindy lifted her face and let him kiss her briefly on the lips. "Good bye, Daddy," she whispered, and then hurried from the room. Stepmother was just outside, and was laughing quietly. "You heard?" Cindy asked her.

"Oh yes. What a silly old fool!"

"Please don't say that," Cindy urged. "He needs me. I've never been needed by anyone before! And he really DID make me feel ...."

"I don't mean to make light of your feelings, dear ... or of his. Please forgive my last comment. And you did wonderfully just now. You will find, however, that he never really lets up on the 'dirty old man' routine. He may only take you sexually once a week, but he is constantly going to be touching you, petting you, leering at you ... that sort of thing."

"Oh my," Cindy said, more to herself than her Stepmother.

But now, the instructions continued. There were ten bathrooms, but only four or five were ever used. Those must be cleaned daily. Six of the largest rooms would only be dusted and vacuumed once a month, since they were practically never used. Pablo cleaned his own rooms, below in the basement. And above, only four of the nine bedrooms were occupied, including her own. Next, Stepmother produced a schedule, indicating which bedrooms, common rooms, hallways, offices, etc, had to be cleaned on which day of the week. Two hours each day were set aside for exercise, including the shower afterwards. And one hour each day was reserved for "mental conditioning" in Stepmother's office, a chore which had Cindy almost gasping in anticipation. If Cindy missed doing a room on its assigned day, she could slide the schedule as necessary. Every Sunday was a "day off" for Cindy ... but any "sliding" of her schedule had to be made up on that day, so that Monday could restart the whole thing afresh.

"Any questions?" the older woman asked.

"Why would I have to slide the schedule?"

"Remember Rule Number One, dear. Wednesday night may belong to Daddy, but Pablo might easily waylay you for an hour at any time."

"Oh my," Cindy muttered again.

"Then, if that's all your questions, I suggest you start with Betty's room. She might not want you to, but please offer. She has never kept her room very neat, and I'm willing to bet that it hasn't been cleaned once in the three weeks that she's been home from college. We're still not sure why she quit school so suddenly. She won't talk about it. She's really been in a foul mood!"

Cindy stocked the maid's cart that Stepmother showed her in the cleaning closet on the second floor and pushed it to the door that her diagram indicated was Betty's. Acid rock music was coming from inside. She knocked softly, waited a minute, and knocked again more firmly.

Betty jerked the door open, making Cindy jump. "What the fuck do YOU want?" she howled above the music.

"Do you want me to clean ...?"

"WHAT!?" Betty screamed.

"Do you ...?"

"JUST A MINUTE!" Betty bellowed, and slammed the door in Cindy's face. A moment later, the music was suddenly turned off, and seconds after that, the door reopened. "WHAT?!" the girl screamed, startling herself. "I mean ... What?"

"Do you want me to clean your room?" Cindy repeated.

Betty gawked at her. "You mean to tell me that the old man adopted you yesterday ... and he's got you working as a fucking MAID today? Are you really as fucking dumb as you look?"

"I ... uh ...."

"Wait a minute!" Betty said, holding up her hands. "My bad! Dumb question! OF COURSE you're as fucking dumb as you look! Listen, STEPSISTER: You keep your fat, ugly ass away from my fucking room, got it?"

"Sure, Betty," Cindy said softly, turning away. The door slammed behind her, but then opened again.

"HEY!" Betty hollered. Cindy turned back around to face her. "Why the fuck are you limping? You weren't limping yesterday."

"I ... um ...." Cindy stammered.

"Did the old man hit you?" Betty asked, suddenly showing real concern. "Did that son of a bitch beat you?"

"No!" Cindy answered, stunned. "He's ... he's really sweet!"

"Oh, don't go defending the old perv! He's been leering at my tits for the last three fucking weeks. And he's always trying to touch me! Gives me the willies! I told the asshole that if he touched me one more time, I'd kick him in the nuts. That put a stop to THAT! Now, what did he do to you?"

"Nothing!" Cindy insisted imploringly. "I mean ... well ... we ... um ... I mean, we ... uh ...."

"OH! MY! GOD! You fucked him! You fucked him, didn't you? You fucked him!"

"Well ... yes ... um ... we ...."

"What a fucking WHORE!" Betty yelled, her eyes wide. "You're fat and you're ugly and you're a WHORE! Stay the fuck away from my room!" The door slammed once more. This time, Cindy didn't turn around. She only had to wait a few long seconds before it opened again. "So ... uh ... why are you limping?" Betty asked. Cindy blinked, not knowing what to say. "Is he ... is he really that big?" Betty implored. "Big enough to make you limp after you do it with him?"

"I ... I don't know how to answer that," Cindy replied

"Well ... I mean ... compared to other guys," Betty urged. "Among all the guys you've had, how did he rate?"

"Other guys?" Cindy asked meekly.

"OH! MY! GOD! He was your first, wasn't he!?" Betty screamed accusingly. "You gave the old perv your cherry, didn't you? You gave the fucking old man your virgin cunt, didn't you!?"

"I ... um ...."

"What a fucking SLUT!" Betty ranted. "Keep your ass away from my room!" And the door slammed yet again. Cindy sighed and waited. The door opened. "Did he ... um ... did he hurt you?" Betty asked quietly.

"No," Cindy answered. "It was nice, really. I don't know what I was expecting, but it was a lot better than I thought it was going to be."

"No shit?"

"Really. He made me ... shiver."

"Shiver?" Betty asked, confused.

"It was like ... I started shivering, really mildly at first. And then, it just sort of built up and built up ... and then I just exploded in a really big case of the shivers."

"He made you cum, you idiot. He did that, just by fucking you?"

"No, he ... well ... I mean, yes, it happened when he was ... um ... doing it inside me. But the really big one ... was when he used his mouth."

"His mouth?"

"He licked me. He licked me, and I exploded in the shivers." Cindy told her.

Betty stood, not really looking at her, her mouth slightly agape. Unconsciously, she had placed the palm of her left hand against her flat midriff. She said nothing for many long seconds, her eyes unfocused. Finally, she blinked and looked at Cindy. "Stay away from my room, okay?" she said quietly.

"Okay, Betty."

Betty closed the door softly, and Cindy finally turned away and pushed her cart toward the first bathroom at that end of the East Hallway. Three bathrooms and two bedrooms later, she broke for a light lunch in the dining room. Pablo served her a tuna sandwich and some chips, but even though she tried again to engage him in simple conversation, he only shook his head and walked away. His lack of communication skills didn't seem to defray his interest in her breasts, however. He openly stared at them through most of the short meal.

After lunch, her task was the upstairs hallway ... vacuum the carpet and dust the pictures. And then ... it was time for her "mental conditioning" in Stepmother's office. The door to the outer room (the room in which she had waited for her interview the day before and where she was later hypnotized) was open, so she walked through it and knocked on the inner door. "Come in!" Stepmother called out. And as she entered, the elder woman told her to go back out and find the metronome and bring it in with her. Cindy handled the boxed instrument with a reverence deserving of an ancient religious artifact.

"If I ever decide to get out of the gold-digging business, I might take up photography," Stepmother said, smiling. "What do you think, Cindy?" She revolved the flat monitor of her computer to face the girl, who gasped loudly and almost dropped the metronome. 

"OH MY!" she squeaked, staring. The photo WAS perfectly framed, she had to admit. Daddy was upright on his knees at one side of the picture, Cindy's legs were draped over his shoulders and hanging down his back. Her body was canted ever so slightly toward the camera, so that Daddy's pink tongue could easily be seen entering Cindy's pink, glistening sex. The girl's body was arched to such an extent that it formed a straight line from the upper right corner of the photo to the lower left. Her head was thrown back so that only the top of her cranium made contact with the mattress, her eyes clenched, her mouth open in a scream. Cindy's right arm (the one nearest the camera) lay along the surface of the mattress, touching Daddy's knee, while the fingers of her left hand were laced in his hair. The fingers of Daddy's left hand were spreading Cindy's pussy-lips, his right hand was clutching Cindy's left breast, making the nipple strain upward toward the ceiling. It was the most erotic picture Cindy had ever seen in her life. 

"I'll make you a copy, if you want. Now, open the box, Cindy," Stepmother instructed. Cindy tried to calm herself. Hesitantly, she did so. 

"Alright," the woman continued, "do you see how the thing is 'parked' by sliding the rod in the little gap up at the top?" Cindy studied the metronome for a moment and nodded. "And do you see the sliding scale behind the rod? The weight slides up and down the rod. See the little numbers? They're beats per minute. The higher the weight slides, the lower the number."

"That makes sense," Cindy said, nodding. And then she read the words that were inscribed along with the numbers. "Presto, Allegro, Andante, Adagio, Larghetto, Largo ...."

"Do you know music, Cindy?"

"Yes, Stepmother ... a little. I played piccolo in the band, but the instructor never used a metronome."

"Conductors pride themselves on their rhythm ... they all believe they don't need one. Anyway, Cindy, YOUR subconscious lies somewhere in the Larghetto. Please slide the weight up until the top of it is exactly at 72. I'm sure you will remember that number from now on, won't you? Good. Now, wind it up using the little key in the back. Yes, that's enough. Now, release the arm, and then lean back in the chair, please. When you are as deep as you can go in you trance, raise your hand above your head. Good girl, Cindy.

The device began clacking, and almost at once, Cindy recognized the beat of the mechanism as her own personal rhythm. She couldn't keep her shoulders from slumping. Exhaustion engulfed her, and her eyes began watering as she followed the arm of the device back and forth and back and forth. She didn't understand the thing about raising her hand, but now, she was too tired to ask. Looking back on the experience, she couldn't decide exactly at what point she fell asleep. She only knew that she was dreaming again, standing near one of the room's walls, watching herself in the chair watching the metronome. The Cindy in the chair just sat there for the longest time, when, oddly, she raised her hand straight up above her head. Stepmother, sitting at her computer, noticed, and began talking to sleeping-Cindy ... but standing-Cindy couldn't hear what was being said. Sleeping-Cindy could, though ... that much was obvious, because she often nodded and answered: "Yes, Stepmother." "Yes, I understand." "Yes ... I will obey ... I will ALWAYS obey." "Yes, Stepmother." It was all very confusing, and it just seemed to go on and on and on.

But suddenly, Stepmother told her to wake up. And suddenly, standing-Cindy was back in sitting-Cindy's body again. And suddenly, she felt GREAT! Awake! Alive! Happy! She sprang from her chair, beaming a smile. "Oh, thank you, Stepmother! I feel WONDERFUL! I think 'Mental Conditioning' is going to be my favorite part of the day!"

That earned her a smile, but then Stepmother became serious. "Sit down, Cindy. We're not finished yet."

"Oh," the girl replied meekly, resuming her seat immediately. "Am I going to go to sleep again?"

"No. We need to talk." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "Cindy, have you ever heard it said that a hypnotist can't make a subject do anything that the subject doesn't really WANT to do?"

"I've read that in books ... but I don't believe it anymore. You could make me do ANYTHING, Stepmother. I'm sure of it."

"You're right, my dear, I can. But the only reason I have absolute power over you is that you WANT me to. That desire to submit ... that desire to surrender ... is just a part of who you are. It's an integral part of what makes you ... you. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"I understand it, Stepmother, but I don't understand WHY you're telling me."

The woman smiled. "It's always 'Why' with you, isn't it, Cindy?" The girl grinned sheepishly and lowered her eyes. "Your new father is the same way. He was a master of business and industry in this area, but subconsciously, he longed for the control of someone else. But when I placed the other two members of this household under hypnosis ...."

"You've hypnotized Betty?" Cindy asked, startled.

"For all the good it did me!" Stepmother grumbled. "She's just as headstrong and bull-headed when she's under as she is when she's awake!"

"Oh my," Cindy muttered, looking worried.

"But the point that I'm trying to make here is that Pablo was the same way! I had almost no control over him, either! I was able to learn a few clues about who he is, where he goes, desires and dislikes ... that sort of thing. But he almost violently resisted any attempt at actual control. He is a very strong personality. That's why I'm telling you this, Cindy. I'm trying to prepare you for what's about to happen."




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 03



Cindy swallowed nervously. "About to happen?"

The older woman sighed. "Alright, first of all ... a little history. My husband met Pablo while he was inspecting a deep-water oil rig off the coast of Southern Mexico. Pablo was the chef onboard. While he was there, some sort of pressure thingamajig malfunctioned and there was a big explosion that blew Pablo overboard ... and by 'overboard,' I mean sixty feet down to the surface of the ocean. Believe it or not, your father jumped after him ... broke his right leg in the process, but still managed to save him. Pablo has been with him ever since. 

"BUT ... I've been able to find out recently that Pablo is married. He's from this itty-bitty little Aztec village up in the mountains; and while he was on that oil rig, he was sending his paycheck home to his fifteen year old wife ... yes, fifteen! They had just been married in some sort of family-arranged thing. I had no idea that the Catholic Church would sanction such a thing ... and from what I've learned since, the church doesn't ... it just sort of pretends not to notice, I guess. Anyway, that was seven years ago. Pablo's been in the United States ever since, and your generous father has been paying him $4,000 a month, after taxes, and helping him send it all home to his wife."

Stepmother paused in her story long enough to sip from a can of diet cola. "I was recently able to contact this wife of his by email ... and then I phoned her and had a nice long conversation. First of all; evidently, that $4,000 represents about 90% of the GNP of that entire village. Little Mrs. Pablo hates her husband. Evidently, he was VERY rough with her that first month of their married life. But now, she takes half of everything he sends her and tithes it to the church, and then gives the rest of it to Pablo's brother, who is using it to start a farm-and-factory operation that produces Mescal ... and evidently employs most of the village's population. Also, Pablo's brother has shown his appreciation to his sister by giving her all the love she needs, along with two children ... and another one on the way. In other words, EVERYBODY down there wants desperately for Pablo's checks to keep coming ... and they all want just as desperately for Pablo to stay right here.

"Pablo, obviously, knows nothing about this, but he has been just a little anxious for female companionship. Your Daddy used to give him a couple hundred extra every week so that he could go down to the Red Light District and get his pipes cleaned out ... but recently, I put an end to that. There was a big article in the paper about a gonorrhea outbreak in town, and so I laid down the law. He argued, but I had also learned recently that his U.S. visa expired years ago ... so he's illegal. Anyway, I made him get tested, and he's clean, thank God. But I also told him that I was hiring a maid ... and I more or less guaranteed him that he would have sexual access to her." Stepmother shrugged. "And here you are. He's going to be very insistent with you, very soon now ... perhaps even today. Tomorrow, at the latest."

"He must be very lonely," Cindy said sadly.

"Lonely. Yes. But Cindy, he's also a very ... strong man. He has deep, underlying tensions. He is likely to be ... well ... forceful."

"Forceful?"

"You should be prepared for the possibility that he is going to be a very different sort of lover than your Daddy. And I won't be there to help or guide things. You're going to have to make do on your own. But ... if he EVER hits you, I want to know about it. Immediately. Understand?"

Cindy nodded resolutely. "I'll do my best, Stepmother."

"Alright then," Stepmother said, nodding. "And while you worry about the butler, I'M going to be having it out with my brat of a daughter! It's time we put a stop to her rudeness, and her insolence, and her ...."

"Oh, no!" Cindy urged, interrupting. "You can't! You shouldn't DO that ...." But she caught herself and fell silent. "I'm sorry, Stepmother. I shouldn't interfere ...."

The woman was sitting behind the desk staring intently at Cindy, her face a mask of several conflicting emotions. She was silent for many long seconds. "Let's have it, girl," she said at last. "Say your piece."

"Betty's about to run," Cindy said quietly.

"Run? Run where? Run to what?"

"Girls usually don't run TO anything," Cindy explained meekly. "The few that do, usually run to a myth ... to something that isn't really there; like 'true love,' or a relationship where she thinks she's going to be 'respected.' MOST of them are running FROM something. Usually, THEY don't even know what it is ... they just want to get away. And that's Betty, too. She's going to run. She's going to run soon."

"And what makes YOU an expert?" Stepmother said accusingly; and even before Cindy replied, she realized the answer to her own question.

"I've seen it a dozen times," Cindy said morosely. "Two dozen. More, even. I saw the look in a girl's eyes. The same look. And then, she ran. Sometimes, she'd come back ... but sometimes, we'd never hear from her again. And sometimes ... sometimes, we'd hear that she ... she ...."

"What can I do?" Stepmother cried, and when Cindy looked up at her, the woman had a slender hand at her own throat; tears were in her eyes. "What can I say that I haven't already said? How many times must I tell her that I love her? We always wind up fighting!"

"You can't SAY anything," Cindy told her, feeling her pain. "You can't DO anything. You can't help her find what she wants, because she doesn't KNOW what she wants. She needs your attention to find a reason to fight with you. She needs to fight with you to have an excuse to run."

Stepmother shuddered a single sob. "So, you're telling me that I shouldn't do ANYTHING?"

"Yes. After awhile ... maybe a long while ... she will discover something that will divert her ... interest her ... make her a part of you and your family again. But if you try to point something out to her ... even a slight suggestion ... she will use it to rebel; because rebellion is the easiest of all emotional states. Don't do or say anything to her ... unless it is to enforce an idea that is clearly her own."

"Thank you, Cindy. Leave me now, please. I have to think."

Without another word, Cindy rose and went back to work. After another hour, she found herself right on schedule. This fact pleased her immensely. Time now for her two-hour "exercise period." She put the cleaning cart away, went to her room, changed into her shorts and tee shirt, and walked into the special work-out room in the basement. To her dismay, Betty was already there, running on one of the treadmills, reading a book and listening to an iPod. First, Cindy decided, she should get permission from her grumpy stepsister to share the large facility. She didn't want to spark a confrontation. She moved into the other girl's field of vision and waved meekly.

Betty gave her a sour look and took off her headphones. "What the fuck do YOU want, fatty?"

"Do you mind if I work out here, too?"

"Lot of good it's going to do you! Suit yourself. Just stay the fuck away from ME!"

Cindy gave her a little smile, and then finding herself ignored, she went to the other treadmill. She got on, read the instructions, got it going, and adjusted the speed to a pleasant walking pace. She had never worked out much, but this was going to be okay, she decided. She'd walk for an hour, and then she'd easily finish her schedule for the day. She was debating whether or not to ask Stepmother if she could "work ahead" in her agenda, when she suddenly became aware of Betty standing beside her machine. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" the girl barked.

"I'm ... uh ... exercising. I'm supposed to ... um ... exercise for an hour ... and then ...."

"BULL-SHIT you're exercising! You're not even breaking a sweat! Didn't you take PE in school?"

"Uh ... no ... I was in band."

"I was in band," Betty mimicked in falsetto. She shook her head and tapped a few buttons on the console of the machine.

"Aaahhh!" Cindy yelled, as the treadmill suddenly picked up speed. She stumbled, and would have fallen if Betty hadn't put a hand at the small of her back and given her a forward shove. All at once, she was running. "Too fast!" she protested. She was running as fast as she possibly could. And then, to her utter humiliation, her heavy breasts began picking up a harmonic, bouncing up ... down ... up ... down, coinciding with her churning legs and heavy footfalls. This rapidly caused her to lose balance, and she was more or less catapulted backwards off the machine. Somehow, she found herself in Betty's arms, but her weight was too much for the other girl, and they toppled back into a heap on the floor.

Betty was laughing hysterically, but stood up and reached down to help Cindy. "That was the funniest thing I've ever seen!" she chuckled. "Take off that tee shirt! Do it now!"

Cindy was breathing hard, but, despite her embarrassment, she peeled off the shirt.

"Where in hell did you get THAT?" Betty laughed, pointing to her chest. Cindy obviously didn't understand. "That bra would be great to wear to the prom," Betty told her, shaking her head, "but you can't EXERCISE in it!"

"I got it yesterday," Cindy explained, gasping. "I've got four of them now. They're all the same. They're all I have!"

Betty gave her a sour look and muttered something under her breath that couldn't be heard. "I've had just about enough of my dear, incompetent mother!" she screamed, snatching the tee shirt out of Cindy's hands. "You come with me! She and I are about to have this out once and for all!" She spun on her heel and strode out of the room, letting the door slam behind her.

"But Betty!" Cindy yelled, starting after her. Outside the door, she looked up and down the passage, then ran after the slim brunette, trying in vain to cover herself with her arms. "Betty! My shirt!" she squealed.

"Fuck you and fuck your shirt," Betty said, mounting the stairs to the first floor. In the massive marble entryway, she headed for the grand staircase that led to the second story. "You're too busy either kowtowing to my mother or fucking the old man," she griped. "Showing a little skin isn't going to kill you!" She finally walked purposefully into her mother's outer office, and without pausing to knock, she barged into the inner room. Stepmother was at the computer, and now she looked up, startled, as the two girls entered.

"This is the last straw, Mom!" Betty accused at the top of her lungs. "You're forcing this girl to work out every day, but you don't tell her how, and you don't even DRESS her properly!" 

Stepmother's face was a mass of confusion and outright fear. Her eyes were wide, and slowly, she began to shake. It dawned immediately on Cindy that her earlier comments about her daughter running away had made a huge impact on her. "I ... I thought that ... I mean, those shorts cost fifty dollars a pair," she stuttered weakly. "I thought they were good ones. I didn't mean ...."

"The BRA, Mother!" Cindy screamed. "Don't you know ANYTHING?!"

Stepmother blinked in uncomprehending shock. "The bra?"

"Thirty-minutes a day on a treadmill, and in a month, those big old titties of hers are going to be hanging around her ankles!" her daughter screeched. "She needs a sports bra, you nincompoop!"

"Oh," Stepmother said meekly. "Oh, of course. You're right, of course. I'll make sure she gets a couple." She looked at Cindy for a moment. "Will two be enough, do you think?"

"She sweats like a pig," Betty said sternly. "Better make it half a dozen, or she'll be doing laundry every other day." Stepmother nodded and made a note. She obviously didn't trust herself to comment further. Betty, having had the momentum of her anger suddenly halted, seemed to be trying to think of some other source of confrontation. "And exercise alone isn't going to do anything for her, you know! She's going to need a diet, too."

"South Beach?" Stepmother suggested quietly.

"Oh Puh-leez! That is SO right out of the last decade!"

"Oh, Betty," the older woman pleaded, actual distress in her eyes, "I don't know ANYTHING about it. Could you ...?"

"NO YOU DON'T, Mom!" the girl howled. "You're not going to drag ME into your little adopt-a-plaything scheme!" The fire in her eyes had resumed its rage.

Stepmother's shoulders slumped. She looked miserable. "I'll look something up on the internet."

"That stuff is just a bunch of shit! She can't have just a diet ... or just an exercise program ... she's got to have a whole lifestyle change!"

The older woman looked totally defeated. "Betty ... I don't know what to do. I don't know ...."

Betty suddenly sighed and seemed to deflate. She sat down hard in the chair facing the desk and seemed to be struggling with some inner demon. "If I do this," she began firmly, her voice low, "if I take on this task ... then you have to promise that you won't interfere ... AT ALL! What I say GOES! I'm in charge! Period! Is that what you want?"

Apparently, Stepmother had been holding her breath, for now, she let it out in a long, uneven exhalation. "Oh, Betty ... I would be SO grateful! And I promise! I give you my word!"

Betty's nod seemed to be an attempt to convince herself that she had made a correct choice. Finally, she stood back up and flung the tee shirt at Cindy. "Your ass is MINE now, lard-bucket," she hissed. "Put on your fucking shirt! We've got work to do!" Cindy nodded, turned, and walked out of the room, struggling into the shirt as she went. Betty paused before following. She turned back to the woman. "You okay, Mom? You look sort of ... um ... strange."

"I'm fine, thank you, dear. And thanks again for your help with Cindy. I just want you to know ...."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Betty groused, and walked out of the room.

The next sixty minutes were the worst of Cindy's entire life. She had never known such agonizing, unendurable pain. The treadmill was deemed off-limits until the sports bras arrived, and so the Stairmaster was called into play ... once again at a pace that seemed physically impossible to maintain for more than a few seconds at a time. But Cindy tried ... and tried and tried, until her legs ached miserably and her lungs screamed. On and on she went, Betty chiding her constantly for doing it improperly. And when, at long, long last, the time on the machine was over, Cindy was introduced to something called "crunches," which was a half-sit-up sort of maneuver. Betty demonstrated by doing a hundred in quick succession, but when it was Cindy's turn, she could barely do five. And from that point on, she could only try ... over and over again, her stomach muscles on fire. There seemed to be variations on a theme of torture, for there were other exercises: touching elbow-to-knee, sit-ups, some sort of thing that mimicked rowing a boat.

Finally ... finally ... it was over, and Betty slapped her on the ass and said "Nice first effort, Grease-wad." Cindy was lying on her side, gasping and wheezing uncontrollably, her muscles shaking and cramping. She wanted to say something ... and she waved her hand slightly to acknowledge the closest thing to a compliment Betty had uttered so far, but she continued to pant like an overheated hound. Long after Betty was gone, she lay on the floor mat, thinking that she would never catch her breath, but at last she tried to stand, her knees weak and rubbery. There was a damp stain on the mat under her, and her clothes were drenched in sweat. She stood, swaying slightly, and made her way to the water cooler, where she downed cup after cup of cool water. All she could think about now was a shower. But when she opened the door, it was blocked by something very large and muscular.

"Pablo," she gasped, looking up into his lust-filled eyes. The man reached out, grasped her firmly by the arm, pulled her toward him and spun her effortlessly to one side, so that his arm was now around her, and he was leading her toward his living quarters at the other end of the lower level. "Pablo, I just finished exercising. I need to clean up ... to shower first. I want to be clean for you, Pablo." He seemed not to have heard her ... or at least, not to have understood, and he didn't seem to care at all that her body was wet and slick with sweat. For the first time, Cindy became aware that HIS body wasn't too clean, either ... his hands were filthy, the knees of his trousers were dark with caked-on soil. He had obviously been working in the garden.

He was maneuvering her into his room now, and he used his foot to swing the door shut behind them. They were alone. He reached down and grasped the lower edge of her tee shirt, then pulled it up her body. She gasped audibly, shivered for a moment, looked up into eyes that she could only describe as savage, and then slowly lifted her arms over her head. He pulled the shirt free, lifting it over her upraised hands, and threw it on the floor, where it made sort of a wet splat when it landed. Her bra, too, was soaked, but he made short work of it, spinning her away from him, fumbling only a second with the latch at her back, and it was on the floor, as well, before she could lower her arms again. He drank in the sight of her breasts for long seconds, and then began pulling down her gym shorts. Tears trickled from Cindy's eyes, but they were probably unnoticeable on her moist cheeks, and she doubted if he would be swayed by her crying, anyway. He gave her a little shove backward, and she sat down hard on the bed. His hands had shifted as she fell back, and his rough hands had slid from her waist to her thighs, taking her silk panties with them. Another shove, and she was lying on her back while he worked on her shoes and socks. Thirty seconds later she was completely naked. His eyes never left her as he began disrobing.

"Pablo," she said in a shaky, scared voice, "I know you want me ... and I'm going to surrender to you ... completely. But please ... please go slowly. Tell me what to do ... tell me what you want. Let me be a part of this ... don't just take me. Please." He acted as if he hadn't heard her at all. His shirt was off now. He toed off his work shoes, then hopped a little as he stood on one foot at a time, removing his socks. He unbuckled his belt. "Why do you DO that?" Cindy asked, a trace of exasperation in her voice. "Why do you pretend not to understand? I KNOW you know English! You've been in this country seven years! Half of your cookbooks are in English! You're an excellent driver! You KNOW! Why do you pretend otherwise?"

His pants were down around his ankles now, but he paused and looked at her quizzically. She sat up, her breasts bouncing as she did so. "Is it so you can just take me, and do whatever you want to me, and force me, and not be bothered to explain what you're doing or why? Well ... it's not going to work! You WILL take me ... and you CAN do whatever you want to me ... and I WILL surrender to you ... anyway you want me to. But please, Pablo ... please talk to me. Please tell me how I can please you." Before he could react, she had reached out with both hands, seized the waistband of his boxer shorts, and pulled them down.

"Oh ... MY!" she said, gawking, shrinking back from it, despite herself. It was MUCH bigger than Daddy's had been the night before. She sat there, staring, contemplating its size, its hairiness, the blue veins running down its straining length. It seemed to be pointing, accusingly, right at her. She swallowed and took a deep breath. "Wh ... what do you ... um ... want me to do with it?" she asked shakily, peeking for only a second into his eyes before her vision was once again drawn to this phallic club.

He reached out, grabbed her firmly by one shoulder, and pulled her forward, so that she staggered and fell to her knees in front of him. "Suck it, my little Cindy," he growled.




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 03



It was inches from her eyes, now. She could smell it ... and didn't like it. Reluctantly, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around it and brought it to her mouth, sticking out her tongue and giving it a lick. She wondered if she'd be able to do this, but found that there were no other options, as he bent down, put his fingers in her damp hair and pulled her forward toward it. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth as far as she could. "No teeth, mi Cindita," he husked in a deep baritone. "Si ... that's it, my pet. Now, suck ... suck it, mi Cindita!" She thought she was going to gag, but found that she was getting used to the monstrous thing ... its flavor ... its feel. She started sucking harder, then looked up at the man standing above her. His head was thrown back, an almost sinister smile on his face. Her hand was still wrapped around the base of the massive, soft/hard hairy thing in her mouth, and now, to her surprise, his hand came down to hers, urging it to move ... forward ... back ... forward again. Soon, she understood, and she stroked him while she sucked. He seemed to like it more the harder she sucked and faster she stroked him, so she did both things. And with an animal roar, Pablo grabbed the back of her head and pulled it so that the phallus was thrust all the way into her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat. It throbbed ... lurched ... seemed to grow even larger in girth ... and then it erupted. She swallowed automatically, gagged, swallowed again, and she felt the sticky fluid spew back out of her mouth, all around his shaft, dripping in great gobs down onto her chest and breasts. She pulled back, automatically, in a frantic attempt to breathe, and the thing slipped out of her mouth as she doubled over in a coughing spasm.

Pablo was shaking violently. His cock propelled another long, ropy string of white mucus that spattered on her upper chest and chin and then ran down between her heaving mounds. The man was moaning loudly. Cindy, in the meantime, had gotten her breathing under control, and was swallowing what fluid was left in her mouth. She looked down at herself. There was SO much of it! Pablo had fallen to his knees in front of her, and she reached out a tentative hand and placed her palm on his chest, only then discovering that it had a great deal of cum on it, too. She ignored it. "Are you okay?" she asked tenderly. He nodded and stood shakily, then turned and walked into an adjoining bathroom. She waited, still on her knees, and she heard water running for a minute, then Pablo reappeared with a washcloth. He helped her up, and tried to clean her, patting, swabbing, rubbing it on her face and chest and breasts; then he went back and rinsed the cloth out, returning again to clean her some more. She stood, arms akimbo, and allowed him to touch her wherever he wished.

At last, this task accomplished, he dropped the washcloth on the floor and pushed her backwards to the bed again. She tolerated his maneuvering without question or comment, until he had once again positioned her, flat on her back on the bed. He spread her legs, putting his body between them, just as Daddy had done the night before. His manhood had gotten much smaller than it was when he had gushed his spunk into her mouth, but even now, he was relatively hard. Still, she was surprised when he began pushing into her opening; and she was more surprised still to discover that it HURT! She was being stretched much more than she had been the previous night, and the tissues inside her ravaged body were obviously still tender and raw. She remembered Stepmother's words: "Never let him hear you make a sound of pain, even if he hurts you." So she moaned and put her palms on the man's chest. "Please, Pablo, please let me do it! Can I?"

The big man paused, puzzled. Cindy took a deep breath and pushed herself up, impaling herself on his shaft. At least this way, she could control the pain, manage it. But the muscles of her abdomen were weak and rubbery from her workout, and she could only thrust herself upward another small inch. Pablo finally figured out what was happening, and he leaned his body heavily against hers, putting his lips next to Cindy's ear. "Shhhh!" he hushed her, and began pushing again, slowly ... slowly ... pushing ... pushing. Cindy gasped and shook in his grasp, looking up into his eyes. "Shhhh!" he repeated, pushing even more, until his pubic hair was grinding into her own.

Cindy couldn't control the tears, but she smiled, despite them. "I got you in, Pablo. I got you all the way in!"

He smiled again, nodded, and began his steady, humping rhythm ... up ... down ... up ... down ... up. Cindy shook beneath him for a long minute, when she suddenly discovered that the longer he did this, the less pain there was. At first, there was some friction there, but now there seemed to be none at all; and, despite his length and diameter, he was sliding in and out with almost no effort whatever. The truth of the matter was, now that the pain was gone, this felt rather good. In fact, it was beginning to feel VERY good. Pablo pushed his upper body above her, placing his hands next to Cindy's shoulders, and her own hands just naturally migrated down to his waist. The rhythm was increasing now, and his cock was beginning to swell ever larger inside her. She was trying to remember what Stepmother had taught her the night before. Something about not keeping the sounds inside her bottled up ... to let them out. But, she decided at last, it was too late to worry about that lesson ... she seemed to be making all sorts of sounds already, thank you very much.

And now, the pace of his thrusts was increasing even more ... and the strength of those thrusts was escalating, as well. In fact, he was pounding his body into hers, so that her breasts bounced and jiggled with each shuddering impact ... more and more ... faster and faster. And certain strange revelations were just beginning to dawn on her.

I am helpless, she thought. He is ravishing me, and I am helpless. He is POUNDING into me, and I am helpless. SO helpless! And he's going FASTER, and I'm helpless. He is SO strong and SO hard and SO fast ... and I am SO helpless. I am cumming, and I am SO help ... OH MY!

And she was shaking uncontrollably now, and she felt her pussy spasming and clenching and clutching at him now; and now she realized that the fingers of both of her hands were digging into his ass, pulling him into her ... deeper into her. And he was roaring like some savaged, trapped animal above her now. And now, she felt him swelling and jerking inside her ... deep, deep inside her. And now, he had collapsed onto her, smothering her, nestling his body into her own ... as if they were one.

In another minute, he rolled off of her, slipping out of her, lying on his back; so that if she wanted to maintain this closeness, she had to roll onto HIM, snuggling into HIM, her head on his shoulder. He sighed and stroked her wet hair.

"I must get up, mi Cindita. I must make dinner." He lay there for another thirty seconds and got up, leaving her, and began picking up his clothes and putting them back on. Dreamily, she watched him dress, then she rose and began putting her own clothes on. They were sodden and cold, and she felt thoroughly sopping and sore and dirty and cum-soaked. She made her way back upstairs, realizing, as she went, that she was now two hours behind in her work schedule. 

She wanted to spend an hour in the shower, but she turned it off long before she wanted, went back to her room, put on her "uniform" again, and went down to dinner. 

Dinner was yet another shock. Betty had brow-beaten Pablo into a menu change. Cindy found that her meal consisted of a VERY small piece of roast meat ("Never any larger than a deck of playing cards," Betty insisted) and steamed vegetables. Period. No starches. No bread. And no chocolate pie for dessert ... ever again.

The others seemed to commiserate with her plight. And, in fact, when Pablo was serving Cindy the small bowl of fruit for HER dessert, he laid a tender hand on her shoulder and smiled down into her eyes. She smiled up into his, only to glance up in time to see Betty looking quizzically from her ... to Pablo ... back to her. Cindy blushed and looked away.

"OH! MY! GOD!" Betty yelled at the top of her lungs. "Has this whole house gone INSANE?!"

And she got up and stormed off to her room.



Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 04



Chapter Four

Cinderella's Sacrifice

And so, Cindy's life slowly began to form a set pattern. After dinner that night, she had begged Stepmother to allow her to work at night, after dinner, but her request was firmly denied. It became evident that she would be working Sunday, as well ... and most probably, EVERY Sunday. She went back to her room, stripped, put on her robe, and curled up in her chair, thinking about her day. The exertion from the workout, however, had left her very tired, and so she rose, set her alarm clock, hung up the robe, and climbed naked into her bed. As soon as she closed her eyes, she imagined her metronome, and she was almost instantly asleep.

Breakfast the next morning (and every morning after that), consisted of a small bowl of high-fiber cereal with skim milk, non-fat yogurt and fresh fruit. Lunch was a salad. The workout was, if possible, even worse than the day before. With the addition of the sports bras, she worked out hard on the tread mill, the stair machine and the elliptical ... but at a pace that had her stopping every few seconds ... then starting again ... and again ... and again. Her stomach muscles were so sore that she couldn't do ANY crunches ... but that didn't stop her from trying ... over and over and over again. It was agony!

And now, on top of everything else, she was hungry. Almost all the time. She complained to Betty, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. Betty pointed out that she could eat all the carrots and celery sticks she wanted. But Cindy HATED celery ... at least, she DID hate celery. Just after the next "Mental Conditioning" session with Stepmother, she decided to try it just one more time, and oddly, it wasn't nearly as bad as she remembered. So now, she found herself eating an awful lot of celery.

Every Wednesday night, Cindy bathed in scented soap, primped in front of the mirror in her bathroom, and presented herself to Daddy in his room, where his lovemaking would be exquisitely tender and gentle, and he would always make her cum using his stroking fingers or lapping tongue.

Twice a week, Pablo would find her at odd times during the day, usually while she was cleaning, and he would lead her to his rooms below-stairs and make love to her savagely, taking her with an intensity that left her breathless and tingling.

The best part of her day, by far, was the hour she spent in Stepmother's office, floating, dreaming, thinking of absolutely nothing at all, not caring a bit if her thoughts or actions were being manipulated. After the second week, Stepmother loaned her a book ... a romance novel ... the type of book she normally didn't enjoy; but she read it twice during the next week, dedicating an hour after dinner, before bed. She was worried that she might not get another when she returned it, but she was always given a replacement ... a book chosen by Stepmother ... and she was always reminded that this was a privilege that had been earned by her dedication and loyalty. Cindy didn't mind. To her, reading was heaven. 

This was who she was. Work, sex, surrender, pain, hunger, submission. And, oddly, this was EXACTLY who she wanted to be. On and on her life went. Day after day. Week after week.

The change was so gradual, she didn't see it coming until it was already there. The reason for that, of course, was that her workouts never got any easier. They were ALWAYS painful. They ALWAYS left her panting and shaking and drenched. She would work on the stair machine as long as she was able, and be forced to stop when she absolutely could go no further. On the treadmill, she would run, seemingly at a sprint, for as long as she could, and she would only stop when it was positively impossible to go on ... knowing that she would have to start again ... and again and again. 

And so, it was with a sense of absolute shock that, sometime after she had been doing this for almost a month and a half, she had reached the end of a cycle on the treadmill and realized that she had not stopped even once! Within the week, she had accomplished the same feat with the stair machine and elliptical. And she could now do at least fifty of the dreaded crunches! She didn't mention these things to Betty ... she didn't boast or revel in these achievements for fear that her tormentor would simply increase the speed ... would demand more and more.

But Betty DID notice, of course. Cindy hadn't really discerned when it happened, but Betty had stopped calling her the endless string of derogatory names, though she never really called her by her REAL name, of course. And now, sometime nearing the two-month mark of her time here, Betty told her to follow her after the workout session, and took her to a room she had never really noticed before; one that was adjacent to the laundry room where Cindy spent at least an hour every day cleaning the family's clothes. She had always assumed the door led to a storage area, but it was a sewing room! She hadn't even known it existed!

"You know how to use one of these things?" Betty asked her, her hand resting on a sewing machine. 

"Yes!" Cindy responded, checking out the attachments.

"Well, you need to take up all your blouses. They're too big on you. And probably all the waistbands in the skirts, too. You know how to do that?"

"I can do the blouses," Cindy responded. "I've never done a waistband."

"Well, go get one. I'll show you how. There's a little trick to it. It'll take two of us, anyway. You'll have to try it on while I pin it up."

And so, flabbergasted, Cindy ran up and got one of her skirts and brought it back, and she and Betty worked ... worked TOGETHER ... at a common task. She stood, in just her panties, sports bra and the skirt while Betty pinned and marked the garment, and then she was sent scurrying back up to her room to change into one of her regular bras so that she could model properly for the blouse, while Betty did the same for that. It took almost two hours ... two hours that Cindy would have to make up on Sunday ... but it was worth it. Oh my, it was worth it ... to be working WITH someone ... to experience a little companionship with someone near her own age.

The next day, at the end of an intense exercise period (that was painful but oddly satisfying), Betty asked Cindy if she could see her room. This proved embarrassing, somehow. Betty, living in the other wing of the upstairs section, and staying almost exclusively in her room, obviously had no reason to venture into this area of the mansion. And despite Cindy's having been there for two months, Betty hadn't been down this section of hallway since her arrival. "What the fuck happened to your door?" she asked, walking into Cindy's room.

"I'm not allowed a door," she explained patiently, blushing despite herself.

"Not allowed ...?" Betty for once, was obviously speechless. She looked around at the bare walls, simple bed and dresser. She picked up the book on the small reading table beside the chair. "Nurse's Dilemma," she mumbled, reading the title, her lip curling slightly into a sneer. She walked to the only window, and looked out on the driveway below, while Cindy followed and stood beside her. "Why do you do this to yourself?" Betty asked quietly. "Why do you let her do this to you? Take away your privacy? Your freedom? Your happiness?"

"She's given me my happiness," Cindy replied soberly. "This is who I want to be. I want to serve. I think I always have. I want to surrender. I want to please others."

Betty shook her head. "You and I are complete opposites, you know that? We have ab-so-fucking-lutely NOTHING in common! I think a woman should be strong, independent and autonomous. You want to be meek and docile and submissive and compliant."

Cindy smiled. "We each know that there are BOTH types of women in the world. Just because we've chosen different paths doesn't mean we have nothing in common." Betty gave her a quizzical look and finally nodded "Oh my!" Cindy exclaimed, looking out the window.

"What is it?" Betty asked, following her gaze.

Cindy watched the man walking across the broad lawn toward the house from the entrance of the estate."Pablo," she whispered.

"What about him?"

"He's been working in the flower beds along the driveway. It's Friday. He knows that I'm through exercising about now. He's going to want me."

Anger flickered across Betty's face, but she breathed a sigh and obviously tried to make herself see things from Cindy's perspective. "You ALWAYS give yourself to him when he wants you?"

"Yes," Cindy replied meekly.

"Do you ... like it?"

"Yes ... I mean ... yes. He's very ... um ... strong and powerful and ... um ... forceful. It's really hard to explain the things he makes me feel. Yes, I like it."

"You hesitated," Betty accused. "What is it you DON'T like?"

Cindy blushed. "Well ... when he's been working in the flowerbeds, like now, he's always dirty and sweaty. I guess I don't really like the way he smells sometimes ... or the way he tastes."

"Tastes? He makes you suck him?"

"Oh, yes," Cindy said, almost dreamily. "He really likes that."

"Well, DUH! Of COURSE he likes that! What guy DOESN'T like that?" Betty regarded her companion in silent contemplation. "Do you ALWAYS do what you're told?"

"Yes."

Betty was thinking hard now. "Do you do what ANYBODY tells you?"

"Yes."

"Will you do anything I tell you to do?"

"Well, of course," Cindy replied, smiling. "I've been letting you put me through Physical Education Hell for these past two months, haven't I?"

Betty blinked at her, then looked back out the window. Pablo was almost to the house now. "Strip," she said.

"What?"

"Quick! Take off your clothes! Now!"

Without any other questions or comments, Cindy stripped out of her sweat-stained clothing, leaving them in a heap on the floor. She stood, arms at her sides, fidgeting nervously in front of the other girl, but Betty seemed to be paying no notice. She had her face pressed against the window pane, watching Pablo enter the house. Then she ran to the other side of the bedroom, grabbed the bath towel hanging on the wall, and held it out to Cindy. She suddenly found herself staring openly. "Holy shit!" she said. "You've really got knockout tits!" Cindy blushed crimson and took the towel, saying nothing. She wrapped it around her, covering herself from breasts to just slightly below her crotch.

Betty shook her head as if to clear it, then advanced to the gaping doorway and motioned for Cindy to join her. "Okay, here's the plan," she told the almost-naked girl. "When I tell you, you go down the hallway toward the bathroom, like you're on your way to the shower. You're going to act surprised to see Pablo as he comes the other way. Here ... hold the towel this way ... right here, like this, so that one nipple is sticking out ... sort of by accident, you know? He, of course, is going to want to take you right away and fuck you half to death right on the spot. But YOU are going to beg him to join you in the shower, got it? Tell him ... um ... oh, I know! Tell him you need him to scrub your back ... and your breasts. Tell him you want to know what it's like to have his soapy, slippery hands on your tits! Yeah, that's it! And then let the towel slip and fall off you!"

"But, Betty!"

"Shhh! I hear him on the stairs. You SAID that you'd do what I told you, right? Get ready! GO!"

And Cindy suddenly felt herself propelled out the door and down the hallway toward the oncoming butler. She stumbled, then righted herself and looked back at the bedroom doorway, but Betty had obviously hidden herself inside. She kept walking, and when she looked forward again, she found herself in Pablo's arms. "Oh my!" she said, startled.

"Ah, mi Cindita," the man growled, raking his eyes up and down her lush figure, his gaze stopping at the nipple peeking shyly up at him. "I think it is time, no?"

Cindy swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and then batted her eyes at the man's leering face. "Please, Pablo ... please let me take a shower first. I want to be all clean and fresh for you. I know! Let's shower together! Please Pablo! Please shower with me!" The man frowned and shook his head slightly. "You could scrub my back for me!" Cindy rushed on. "Please? Of course, you could scrub my front, too, if you want. When my breasts get all soapy and slippery, they're ... uh ... whoops!" And her hand let go of the towel, exposing her entire body.

Pablo staggered back a step, and he bent to retrieve the towel, never taking his eyes from Cindy's naked form. Cindy was breathing hard and blushing. Pablo almost turned toward the other end of the hall when they heard what might have been a stifled giggle from the direction of Cindy's room, but Cindy grasped the man's hand and began tugging him the other way. "Please, Pablo! Come on ... please?" The man allowed himself to be led in the direction of the bathroom-without-a-door.

Once there, Cindy turned on the water to allow it to warm, and then began tugging at Pablo's clothing. It was obvious that the man was having a great deal of difficulty keeping up with the rapidly changing events. He looked dubiously at the missing door. "Oh, it doesn't matter, Pablo," Cindy told him. "Nobody is in this wing of the house at this time of day. And everybody knows that you're making me have sex with you whenever you want. It's alright. Here ... let me help you with your shoes. There. Come on, Pablo. Please?"

And finally, they were in the shower together, the hot water cascading down all around them, all over them, drenching them. Cindy grabbed a bar of soap and began rubbing all over the man's chest, sides, stomach, ass. She reached for his cock, wrapping her fingers around it, squeezing rhythmically. He wrested the soap from her slippery fingers and then got busy with her breasts, sliding his palms and fingers all over her pliable mounds. His cock gave a couple lurches and grew considerably harder. Cindy bent lower, sliding her soapy breasts slowly down his torso, until she was finally on her knees in front of him. Her soaking hair was getting in the way, and she paused only briefly to scoop it over her shoulder before she engulfed his manhood with her sucking mouth. He tasted clean and smelled of the scented soap. She brought her hands around and filled them with his buttocks, pulling him into her voracious mouth, letting him stroke forward into her ... pull back ... forward again. She glanced up at his face, and saw that his head was thrown back in ecstasy, then caught sight of a movement off to one side, and when he stroked back away from her again, she glanced that way and saw Betty peering around the corner of the doorway, watching them. Oh my, she thought, but decided that she should put all of her attention and efforts into the task at hand. It didn't last too much longer, anyway, and Pablo roared out his passion and flooded her mouth with more spunk than she had seen since that first day together. This time, however, the surging water washed away his effluence that had overflowed her mouth.

She rose to her feet and let him hold her bare form against himself. He was still hard (this had not always been the case, but on occasions, he DID take her twice during a session, as he had that first time), and he turned her away from him and bent her over. She allowed him to position her feet far apart, and she reached down and placed her hands on a low shelf in the built-in shower stall that was used to hold soaps and shampoos, supporting herself. She felt him position himself behind her, and he slid into her slippery cunt with a single, easy thrust. She had to brace herself with her hands as he picked up his tempo. He was taking her VERY hard now, and it was all she could do to keep him from pushing her head into the side of the shower stall. His hips were making a wet slap-slap-slap against her butt as he pounded her. The feeling of overwhelming helplessness was pervading her consciousness, as happened almost every time she was with him, and that strange, inevitable sensation was beginning again ... building ... building. She ducked her head slightly and looked, upside-down, at the doorway. Betty was still there. She's going to see me cum, Cindy suddenly thought. She's going to see what I'm like when I lose all control and cum. She's going to see it really soon now. Oh my! Here it is! Betty's seeing me cum now! OH! And she felt her pussy contract, jerking, squeezing. And now Pablo was roaring again, like a bull in a field, charging. And then she was dangling in his firm grasp. Helpless. Spent. Clean.

Betty wasn't in Cindy's room when she got back, and so she got dressed and spent the rest of the afternoon at her chores. Dinner that evening was the same as it always was, with Daddy talking about his stamp collection, and Stepmother saying that she was going out again this evening, as she seemed to be doing more and more often these days. Betty said nothing at all, and gave no hint about what she had made Cindy do upstairs, or of what she had seen.

Saturday was just another work day, as far as Cindy was concerned. She cleaned the rooms on her weekly schedule, spent an hour in the laundry room, altering another blouse while she was waiting for the wash cycle to finish, using the one she and Betty had done two days ago as a pattern. The exercise session was rigorous, but she again managed to finish her machine workout without stopping, and was especially pleased to pump out seventy-five crunches before she could do no more. Betty surprised her yet again by asking if Cindy could come to her room after she'd had her shower. Of course, she readily agreed.

She showered, went back to her room, dressed, and walked down to the other wing. She expected to hear loud music coming from the room, but there was none this afternoon, and the door opened immediately upon Cindy's gentle knock. Betty actually said "Hi, Cindy," and stood back to allow her to enter. The shock of hearing her use her name for the first time was only surmounted by the state of the room itself. It was immaculately clean. Cindy stood near the bed and slowly turned around in a complete circle, taking it all in, then couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter.

"What's so funny, Cum-bucket?" Betty asked, but found herself smiling along with her. 

"Why, you little fake!" Cindy accused. "Your mom thinks you keep your room like a pig sty. You keep it spotless just to spite her, don't you? Even though she doesn't have a clue ... you keep it this way, just to secretly prove to YOURSELF that she's wrong!" 

"That's some pretty deep psychological shit you're spouting there, Ding-wad," Betty sneered. "Sit down, before you blow a gasket with all your heavy thinking." Cindy sat down on the bed, still chuckling and looking around. "Wanna watch some TV?" Betty asked. "Couldn't help but notice that you don't have one in that convent you call a bedroom."

"No. Thanks anyway."

"What kind of music do you like? I have sixty gigabytes of pure bliss, right here at my fingertips." She held up her iPod. "Name your poison. Anything but country."

"I really had my heart set on country," Cindy said, shrugging.

"Vintage rap it is," Betty said, plugging the thing into the charger/speaker system. She turned it down low, though. "So," she continued, lying down next to Cindy, "did you really cum in the shower yesterday, or were you faking it?"

"Oh, my," Cindy shuddered. "You really come right to the point, don't you?"

"Just the way I am, kiddo. So, was it real, or was it Memorex?"

"Oh, it was real, alright. I can't help it. I just start feeling all helpless and weak and ... feminine, I guess. Before I came here, I hardly ever felt that way. I think I wanted to, though. I think I wanted to feel that way almost all the time."

"You really get off on submission, huh?"




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 04



"Yes," Cindy said in a small voice, not able to look the other girl in the eye.

"Hey, Cindy, it's okay," Betty said, reaching out and putting her hand on the other girl's. "I'm different, but I understand. I've been with an awful lot of boys, and that's the kind of girl they all WANTED to have. It just wasn't ever me, you know?" She watched closely as her companion nodded to see if she really DID understand. She seemed to think Cindy was being sincere, because she let the subject drop and changed topics. 

"Hey, want to see what I do in here all day?" She bounced up and went over to a draped easel. She pulled the cloth off of it and displayed a still-life oil painting of the bedroom window and the meadow beyond. Cindy got up and studied the picture.

"This is good. This is really good."

"You're not just saying that?" asked Betty, standing back and canting her head, studying it herself. She paused a moment, and went to the closet, pulling out another oil painting of the same scene. "What about this one?"

Cindy frowned. "You were having trouble with perspective," she answered. "But you've fixed it with the new one." Betty grinned, as if Cindy had just passed some sort of test. "Was Art your major in college?" Cindy asked, not looking away from the painting on the easel.

That earned a frown from Betty, though Cindy didn't see it. "No. I took a few courses. Aced them all, too. But Mom wanted me to major in Business. She doesn't even know I'm interested in this shit."

Cindy walked back over and plopped down on the bed again. "Do you really hate her that much?" When Betty didn't answer, she asked: "Do you want to hate her? I mean, if you could make things up with her, would you want to? Or do you think the relationship is just too far gone?"

"I'm not sure I like the psychoanalysis shit anymore, Cindy."

Cindy shrugged. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." She looked back at the painting. "Have you tried human form yet?"

But Betty just frowned and sat quiet for a long time, thinking. "Mom has never really hidden the fact that when I was born, it was a big mistake. I don't think she even has a clue who my real father IS."

"Yeah, me too," Cindy said, shrugging again. She spoke for ten minutes about her own mother, and how she came to be in the orphanage all her life.

Betty listened intently throughout the discourse. "That's some really deep shit." She gave Cindy a sidelong look. "Or are you just trying to win the awful-story contest?"

Cindy barked a laugh and stood up. "I'd better get back to work," she said quietly.

"Hey! You said that you'd do whatever anybody in this house told you to do, right? That includes me, right? If you can put out to all the guys, the least you can do is sit here with me and listen to some tunes and talk for awhile!"

"I've run out of Sunday," Cindy said, shrugging. "I have to work all day tomorrow, making up for the time I lost with Pablo ... and the time we spent altering my clothes ... and the time I've already spent here. I'd like to stay. I really want to stay ... no kidding. But I can't. I have to start in the morning at eight o'clock as it is. I'm sorry, Betty."

"And you won't even consider playing hooky, just for one day, will you?" Betty taunted. "You won't consider that, because you're all trustworthy, loyal, helpful, and all that other boy scout shit, right?"

Cindy smiled ruefully. "I'd REALLY like to stay," she said meekly.

"Get out of here!" Betty barked. However, when Cindy turned toward the door, she yelled: "Hey!" and then smiled. "Thanks for listening, Cindy."

And Cindy smiled, too.

But the biggest shock of all ... the biggest thing that had happened to Cindy in the two months that she'd been there, occurred the next morning at precisely eight o'clock, when Betty showed up just as Cindy was finishing the last of her fruit and non-fat yogurt. She was dressed in a ratty-looking sweat suit, and she had a pair of rubber gloves clutched in one hand. Once she could find her voice, Cindy protested rather stridently, but Betty was not to be dissuaded. And so, together, Cindy and Betty finished the rest of the weekly cleaning schedule. They talked as they went from room to room; sometimes whispering to one another as they scrubbed one of the bathroom floors, side by side; sometimes yelling over the roar of the vacuum. They shared a couple of gossip magazines as they waited for the dryer to finish with the last of the clothes. They talked through their salads at lunch. They talked while working out during their exercise period. And, since the work was all done early because of the helping hands, they had the whole afternoon together in Betty's room, listening to music, surfing the internet, reading magazines and just talking even more. 

At the end of the day, Cindy couldn't think of one really meaningful thing that had been discussed, but she had NEVER talked to ANYONE so much. And, she had to admit, it had been just about the best day of her whole life! The one thing Cindy had never expected to possess had somehow, miraculously, come her way.

Cindy had a friend.

There had been no "mental conditioning" session on the weekend, but though she could never remember what was said during one of Stepmother's little sessions, she must have mentioned that Betty was helping with her chores. At first, the elder lady was beside herself to think that her daughter was working alongside the hypnotically enslaved house-cleaner. She also seemed to think that her offspring's friendship might somehow threaten her hold over Cindy. But, while Cindy sat in the office chair and listened to her rant after her "session," Stepmother seemingly began to talk herself into the idea that this wasn't such a bad course of events, after all. With a "friend" in the house, Betty was probably less likely to run away. And Cindy, herself, seemed just as dedicated and loyal as she always was. The house was certainly as clean as always, too ... the laundry was all done ... the two men seemed blissfully satisfied, sexually. Stepmother desperately wanted to talk to Betty herself, but still greatly feared another confrontation.

And so, a new "norm" had been established. Betty didn't help every single day, and she always "stepped aside" and let the men of the house have their sexual fun with Cindy when those "chores" needed doing. She also seemed to have a morbid fascination in these affairs, and pressed Cindy for facts following each of these little trysts, sometimes demanding particularly embarrassing details. There was never any doubt about who the dominant personality was in this odd friendship, but Cindy appeared to relish that part of the relationship, never arguing, always giving minutiae when pressed to do so (though usually blushing beet-red during those explanations).

Cindy's first outing came during the next week. Betty had helped her four of the six normal workdays, rewarding both girls with afternoons together in Betty's room, relaxing and doing "girl stuff," fixing each other's hair, doing each other's nails, reading, listening, talking. Even with the two hours Cindy lost servicing Pablo, they found themselves all caught up with the week's schedule at Saturday's end, and with the prospect of an ENTIRE Sunday at their disposal, Betty risked an argument by going to her mother and demanding that she and Cindy be allowed to go out together. Oddly, the woman had simply agreed. And so, they went riding at one of the nearby horse farms Sunday morning, went to a putt-putt golf course in the afternoon, and out to dinner and a movie that evening.

The first real crisis to the friendship came on Thursday evening during the next week. Following dinner, Betty had asked Cindy to come to her room to listen to some blues music and read the latest Hollywood gossip magazines. They had both taken off their shoes and were sitting cross-legged on the bed, reading, when Betty started the conversation that would eventually change things forever. "You've never asked me why I dropped out of college," she commented.

"You're right, I haven't," Cindy replied, not looking up from her magazine. She didn't say anything further, and the silence dragged on for a long minute.

"Most friends would be really curious," Betty pressed.

"I AM really curious," Cindy said, still not looking up. "You'll tell me when you're ready. If you're never ready, you never have to tell me. I can live with being curious."

There was another long silence. "I think I'm ready now," Betty said, barely above a whisper. "If I don't talk to somebody about it, I think I'm going to go crazy."

Now Cindy put the magazine aside and gave the other girl her full attention. "Whatever it is, I don't think it's as big a deal as you're making it out to be. Most things aren't."

"It's pretty fucking big." Betty took a deep breath. She was shaking slightly. "I tried to kiss my roommate."

Cindy regarded her curiously. "I take it from your expression that did not go well with her."

Betty barked a laugh. "Well, THAT'S an understatement. She screamed blood-fucking-murder and then proceeded to tell all of her friends ... AND all of mine. She even complained to a couple of the campus counselors. I left before anybody took any official action."

Cindy sighed. "Why did you try to kiss her?"

"I don't know. She was ... well, I THOUGHT she was ... giving me signals that she was interested in me. You know ... little smiles, little touches, an occasional hug ... that sort of thing. She was also acting really shy around me. Innocent. But afterwards, she wasn't shy at all."

"It sounds to me like there's a distinct possibility that she set you up," Cindy said. "She was probably after the attention she'd get if she could convince people that she'd been a 'victim.'"

Betty shrugged. "Yeah, I thought of that. No way to prove it, though."

"I'm sorry it happened to you," Cindy said solemnly. "I don't know what you can do about it now. You just have to move past it."

Betty regarded her for a long minute. "Aren't you going to ask the obvious question?" she said, almost accusingly.

"No."

Betty sulked. "What kind of friend ARE you?"

"I'm the kind that doesn't care about trivial shit like this," Cindy said earnestly. "I'M the one who's the household sex slave! And somehow, YOU seem to be able to get past that little fact."

"Ask it," Betty demanded.

Cindy breathed a deep sigh. "Golly-Gee, Betty, are you a lesbian?" she said, her eyes wide in a too-obvious, faked look of shock.

Betty glared at her, but then seemed to deflate. A tear trickled down her left cheek. "I don't know," she said in a low voice. "THAT is the real problem here. I really, really don't know."

Cindy's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry, Betty. I didn't know you were struggling with this. I didn't mean to make light of it. Of course we can talk about it. We can talk about it all you want."

Betty reached out and took Cindy's hand, looking at it as she did so, seemingly surprised that her friend didn't shrink back or pull her hand away. "I've been with a dozen guys in my life," Betty began quietly. "More than half of those times I was sober, so I remember them pretty well. I have NEVER had the sort of reaction I saw you have with Pablo in the shower that time. In fact ... I don't think I've ever really liked sex." She shrugged. "It's not repulsive or anything ... well, not really. But almost every time I've ever done it, I wound up wishing I hadn't. You know what I mean? You LOVE giving up control during sex ... I could tell, just by watching you. But ... I don't! I HATE that! Do you understand?"

"Yes," Cindy said honestly. "Yes, I understand perfectly."

"Seeing a girl act all shy and submissive is a real turn-on for a guy," Betty explained. "But that's the problem, you see. Because it's a real turn-on for ME, too!"

Cindy couldn't look her friend in the eye anymore. She looked down and took a breath. "And I turn you on," she said in a half-whisper.

"Oh, yeah. You really do."

Cindy tried to talk, but there was a catch in her throat. She took a breath, swallowed, took another deep breath. "Is that what ... THIS is about? Us, I mean. Our ... 'friendship.'"

Betty gave a little laugh. "Is that what YOU think it is?"

Cindy smiled, despite herself. "NOW who's being all psychological?" she accused.

"Will you help me?" Betty begged. "Will you help me figure out what's going on in my warped fucking brain?"

"What do you want me to do?" Cindy asked in a whisper. She still couldn't look up and meet Betty's eyes.

"Well, first of all, I really, really, really need to kiss a girl that I'm attracted to. I need to see if there's anything actually THERE, you know? I need to act out one or two of the fucking fantasies that have been stuck in my head for so long. I need to DOMINATE a submissive girl. I need to see what it's like. I need to feel the power that the men in this fucking house feel whenever they're with you. Just once, I need see if I get the same sort of sexual rush that THEY get!"

"You want to make love to me," Cindy said, crying now.

"Is the idea of doing it with a woman that abhorrent to you?" Betty asked, concerned.

Cindy shrugged. "I've never thought about it. I suppose that I've never really WANTED to think about it. But I know that we'll never be the same again. No matter what happens; whether I like it or not; whether YOU like it or not; I don't think we'll ever really be the same kind of friends anymore."

"Friends TRUST each other," Betty said patiently. "Will you trust ME?"

Cindy sighed. "Yes. No matter what I think is going to happen, I will trust you. I'll obey you. I'll submit to you. I'll be your sex slave. I'll do whatever you tell me. You have my word."

Betty was still holding her hand. "Thanks, friend," she said quietly. They were silent for several long minutes. "We'll do it tomorrow night, after dinner. Come back here then, just like you did tonight."

And without another word, Cindy got up and left.

The next day, Betty didn't help with the housework, and there didn't seem to be an opportunity for the two girls to talk. Even during the workout session, they only communicated in short, monosyllables. They both seemed nervous and distant, but Cindy especially appeared to harbor a deep-set melancholy. On a whim, she decided to leave for Betty's room wearing only the robe she wore in her room, she padded down the hallways in bare feet and she knocked on the door. Betty, herself, was only wearing a bathrobe. Her short hair was still damp from a shower.

Betty grinned at her. "Well, YOU look ready for action!" But Cindy couldn't return the smile, and found it difficult to even meet the other girl's eyes. "You really don't trust me, do you?" Betty asked.

"I know that you think this won't matter to us," Cindy replied sullenly, "... that it won't matter how we act toward each other, I mean ... but if I've learned anything since I've been here, it's that sex changes everything."

Betty stepped closer to her and grasped her by the shoulders. Cindy shivered. "I'm your friend. You should trust me, okay?" Cindy nodded. "Now, drop the robe." Cindy shook nervously again, then undid the belt on the robe and dropped the garment on the floor between them. Betty stared at her unabashedly. "Holy shit, I can't get over how great your tits are!" Betty breathed. "You've been losing weight in your waist and hips and legs, but I don't think you've lost anything at all up top." She shook her head in amazement, stared for another long minute, then reached up and slid her own bathrobe off of her shoulders, letting it bunch up around her waist, where the belt of the robe held it.

Cindy swallowed hard, staring at Betty's slim, streamlined figure. She had never seen Betty like this, and she was surprised to find that the brunette's breasts were substantially larger than she'd imagined. The difference was that they rode high on her chest and appeared very firm, pointing straight in front of her. They seemed to fit her perfectly ... solid, no-nonsense boobs, for a solid, no-nonsense girl. It took Cindy several seconds to realize she was staring.

"This is it, Cindy," Betty said huskily. "I'm going to kiss you now. Please just let me take charge, okay? Let me kiss you the way the old man does ... or Pablo does. Let me dominate you ... do what I want, okay? Just let it go on for as long as I want it to, okay?"

"Okay," Cindy whispered.

Betty's hands slid down Cindy's shoulders to her upper arms, then further, to her elbows, and then her forearms. She lifted them without any resistance, and placed them on either side of her own head, then took another half-step forward, so that their breasts were pressing into each other's. Cindy couldn't help but gasp at the feeling, and then she gasped yet again when she felt Betty's hands on her bare sides. They were both shaking in anticipation. "Look at me, sis," Betty ordered. Cindy wasn't sure if she was simply reacting to an order, the way she reacted to ALL orders; or if this first use of that particular verbal endearment had shocked her into looking up at her; but their eyes met, and then the next second, their lips met, as well; and Cindy closed her eyes ... the way she always closed her eyes during a passionate kiss. And oh, this WAS a passionate kiss. Yes indeed, it was.

Looking back on it (as she did from time to time), she could never really remember when certain things happened during the course of the next thirty seconds ... or a minute ... or two ... or ten ... or twenty. Time just sort of stopped. At some point there, she realized that her hands, which had been so strategically placed on the shoulders of her friend, had snaked around the girl's neck, and then, further, one of her hands had gone to the back of Betty's head, her fingers in her hair, holding her there, trying to pull their lips, their heads, their bodies even closer. She was aware that Betty's arms were around her waist, her hands on the small of her back. And she was oh so aware that those hands could be moving elsewhere ... roving anywhere their owner wanted to touch, or to stroke, or to pet ... but they didn't. Oh, WHY didn't they?! But, they didn't. She became aware that their mouths were open (though she couldn't remember the precise moment it had happened), and that their tongues were stabbing, sparing, licking, roaming freely. But she DID remember the precise moment that the kiss ended, because she had just wished that this would go on forever ... and as if in answer to her wish, it had been promptly denied.

They remained in each other's arms, panting deeply, holding each other, their noses touching, their lips touching, their nipples touching, their bodies shuddering. Betty got her breathing under control with a sort of gulping sigh, and then she brought her hands back up to Cindy's shoulders and pushed her away. "And THAT answers that," she said, resolutely. She looked steadfastly into Cindy's eyes. "I will never do that to you again," she told her. "Ever. But now, I know. Thanks, sis."

"Sis," Cindy repeated quietly, swaying a little on her feet.

"The closest kin there is," Betty told her. She pulled her robe back up and around her shoulders, then turned and picked up something from her desk. "However, I'm not through with you yet. I still want to see what it feels like to dominate you physically."

Cindy looked at the length of rope in the girl's hands. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to hurt you."

"Hurt me?"

Betty smiled. "Do you trust me, sis? You trusted me before, and you didn't seem to mind too much. Put out your hands."

"W ... Why do you want to hurt me?"

"I'm not going to tell you. Not yet, anyway. Do you trust me, Cindy? Give me your hands."

In response, Cindy reached forward with both of her hands and waited while Betty tied her wrists together, and then led her silently to the bed. "On your back, please," she ordered gently. In less than another minute, Cindy's hands were firmly secured over her head to the center bars of the brass bed. She lay, docile and unresisting, as Betty positioned her legs in an almost obscenely spread position, each ankle attached to one of the outermost bars of the footboard. "Have you ever been tied up before?" Betty asked as she worked on the knots.




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 04



"No," Cindy replied in a quiet, shaking voice.

"Neither have I," Betty said, matter-of-factly. "I think it sort of becomes you, though." Next, she produced a dark strip of cloth and blindfolded the prone girl. "Just for awhile," Betty promised. "I want this to be a surprise."

"And ... and this is going to hurt?" Cindy asked shakily.

"Oh, yeah. This is really going to hurt."

Cindy could hear something happening on the other side of the room. Something slammed. She heard a fan going ... like a loud computer fan, and finally a "ding." She placed the sound now. It was a microwave oven. Again, Betty was busy with something, and then Cindy lurched and squealed as something was placed on her lower abdomen. 

"Oh, don't be such a baby!" Betty chided. "I haven't hurt you yet!"

"Wha ... what are you doing?" Cindy whimpered. Then she gasped loudly. "What is THAT?!" All of a sudden, something hot was spreading down low on her tummy, where she had felt a pressure a moment before. It wasn't, however, painful at all ... it was just very warm. Betty's fingers were sliding back and forth, just above her pussy. They felt slippery ... back and forth ... back and forth ... but oddly, the longer she did it, the less Cindy could feel it. Finally, she stopped. A moment later, Betty removed her blindfold. Cindy blinked and strained to look down at her crotch, but her large breasts made it difficult. And then, Betty stood beside the bed where Cindy could see her best, untied the belt around her bathrobe, and let the garment slide off of her and onto the floor. She was completely nude now, and when Cindy looked up and down her sleek body, her gaze settled unwittingly on the Betty's sex. There was no pubic hair at all. Betty was completely bald between her legs and around her pussy.

"The Full Monty," Betty said, smiling. "And yes, it's going to hurt. Try not to think about it." She stepped closer to Cindy and touched her on the nose three times to emphasize her next words: "Do. Not. Scream." At last, it was finally beginning to dawn on Cindy what was about to happen, but before she could ask a question, Betty had stepped lower so that she was even with the wax strips covering the top of Cindy's pussy, she reached down, and yanked.

Cindy's entire body jerked upward, straining against the ropes restricting her limbs, and her throat constricted in a silent scream of pure agony. Tears flooded her eyes, and she gasped and whimpered and cried. In only a few minutes, however, the pain lessened considerably, and as Betty stroked her fingers against the skin that she had so brutally assaulted a few moments before, Cindy flinched, but was surprised to find that there was no pain at all. "I think we got almost all of them," Betty commented, studying the patch of bare skin closely. "One or two strays, but we can take care of those with tweezers. Now, a couple more strips on either side of your slit, and we'll be done."

"Oh my, Betty! No more, please!"

"Don't be such a wimp! The old man is absolutely going to cream in his shorts when he sees this. And if you thought it felt good when he ate you out before ... well, just you wait!" She turned back to the preparations on the other side of the room. Cindy begged. Cindy pleaded. Somehow, Cindy did NOT scream. And twenty minutes later, Cindy's pussy was a bald as a cue ball.

"Now, don't think that your big sister is getting overly fresh, but I'm going to put some anti-bacterial lotion on you," Betty said, brandishing a tube of salve. "Can't have you getting infected down here." She squeezed some into her hand and then began rubbing her palm all over Cindy's nether region. The bound girl squirmed and let a moan escape her lips. "Your hair is going to grow back real fine ... sort of like fuzz ... at first. We'll do this once every three or four weeks ... but it's going to be a lot easier from here on, because the hairs are going to be so thin." She kept rubbing the lotion between her legs. "You like that, huh?" Betty commented. "You're pussy is leaking all over my clean sheets. Do you think that maybe you get off on a little pain?" 

"I ... I think ... oh ... you should stop doing that now," Cindy groaned.

"You're kind of in a bad way, Cindy. I ought to help you out here. Tell you what ... since we're doing things on a one-time-only basis, why don't I just finish you off?" She went to her bedside table and opened a drawer.

"F ... finish me off?"

"Relax, little sister. The state you're in, this is only going to take about thirty seconds." Something started buzzing ... a deep, almost rumbling sound. 

"Aaahhh!" Cindy croaked, her ass straining off the bed as the vibrator made contact with her hairless pussy-lips. She was slick down there from the lotion and her own juices, and the tip of the thing slipped into her effortlessly. Betty poked a few inches into her canal, but withdrew it and slid it upward until its tip was pressed directly into her clit.

"Have you ever used one of these, Cindy?"

"N ... n ... n ...."

"I didn't think so. You never had any privacy in the orphanage, did you? Now, just relax and let go for me, okay? Just let go, and let it happen, okay?"

Cindy's hip were moving, seemingly all on their own. They strained upward, then left and right, rotating up and over the mattress, the ropes on her ankles under a lot of tension. "I'm ... I'm ... I'm going to ... to ...."

"Let go, Cindy." And suddenly, Cindy's eyes rolled back in her head and she began to quake all over, grunting rhythmically, her body arching up ... up, Betty keeping the buzzing monster pressed directly on its moving target. The orgasm just went on and on. Finally, Betty took the instigator off of her, and her body collapsed, limp, her chest heaving. 

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Betty said, switching the thing off. She looked down at the naked form beneath her and she sighed. "Hey, Cindy ... since this IS the only time we're doing this ... and since this isn't going to impact our friendship or anything ... and since this entire episode has got me hornier than I think I have ever been in my whole life ... do you think I could just lie her, next to you, and use this thing on myself for a few minutes? I won't make you do anything else, I promise. Can I?" Cindy opened one eye and looked at her. She still didn't seem to be able to catch her breath. "I'll take that as an okay," Betty said. She stretched her own naked body out on the bed beside Cindy and rested her head on her friend's chest, nestling a little into Cindy's right breast. The vibrator switched on again. Cindy felt Betty begin to move subtly, her slender frame writhing as she ran the device over her own sex.

Finally, Cindy caught her breath. "Untie my hands, Betty. Please. Do it now."

"I'm a little busy here, kiddo."

"Now, Betty. Untie my hands now."

Betty half rolled over and looked up into her face. She sighed and put the vibrator down on the bed, still running, so that the vibrations could be felt all over the mattress. "Just your hands?"

"Yes. I don't care about my feet right now."

Betty shrugged, crawled up to the headboard, and pulled a loose end of the rope binding Cindy's hands. It must have been some kind of slip knot, because the whole thing suddenly loosened and unraveled. In another few seconds, Betty was resting her head on Cindy's right breast again, but now, Cindy's hands came down and stroked Betty's hair, holding the girl's head nestled in her arms. Betty's body began moving again, sinuously, as she started stroking herself with the vibrator, little jolts of passion seizing her at odd moments.

"Oh, Cindy!" Betty moaned in a voice that sounded almost like a little girl's. "Oh, Cindy, this is going to be a big one." She turned her head in Cindy's arms and pressed the side of her face into the soft, yielding flesh of the breast. "Oh, Cindy. It's almost here, and it's going to be so big. Oh, Cindy. OhCindyOhCindyOhCindy ... ugh! Ugh! Ugh!"

Betty's body squirmed almost serpent-like, twisting, wriggling, straining. She finally let go of the buzzing apparatus (which rolled off onto the floor and abruptly stopped), and she turned and twined her arms around Cindy's waist, never taking her face away from the soft fleshy pillow of her chest. Cindy simply held her, feeling the girl's body relax and settle into an exhausted slumber. 

Cindy tried to think about this. She probably ought to do something. But then again ... maybe not. She pulled the naked body of her friend closer, snuggling into her. And in another minute, she was asleep herself.



Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 05



Chapter Five

Cinderella at the Ball

They were both right. Cindy had feared that the encounter would change them ... and it did. However, she was forced to admit that she and Betty were, if anything, even closer friends than before. Betty had sworn that this would be their only sexual encounter ... and she was as good as her word. She continued to help Cindy with the housework three or four days each week so that they could spend more leisure time together ... they even had another Sunday outing. She continued to be a bit of a slave-driver in the workout room ... and she DID increase the speed on the machines ... although Cindy found that, even though the periods left her gasping and drenched, she could STILL manage to finish the cycles without stopping. 

But now, even though their time together was never spent in the act of sex, Cindy found that the topic of sex was ever more in their conversations. Betty wanted to know how Cindy's newly denuded pussy was received by her two lovers, and she had to relate the encounters in excruciating detail. Daddy had found her so irresistible that he had licked her to two crashing orgasms ... the first time that Cindy had ever experienced multiple climaxes. Even Pablo had been insistent on performing orally ... and when Cindy explained that encounter, Betty had commented that he had raped her with his tongue ... an observation that probably wasn't too far from the truth.

But the real topic of discussion was Betty and her newly discovered proclivity toward lesbianism, for she now had little doubt that was the direction in which her love life must proceed. Neither girl had any experience with the tender dalliances into Sappho's art, and so they engaged in a lot of "what if's" and various other forms of pure conjecture. They surfed the internet, but found that most sites were pornographic in nature. Betty didn't want masturbatory fantasy ... she wanted to find the real thing; but if there were any bars or social organizations in the city that catered to lesbian interests, they didn't seem to advertise. 

Cindy certainly couldn't go bar-hopping with her; not at her age. And so, even though Betty longed for her friend's companionship in her quest for finding a potential partner, she started spending more and more time just going out. She would often leave in the late afternoon and not return until near midnight, most often after Cindy was already asleep in bed. It made her friend nervous. And it made Stepmother almost frantic.

During the second week of these little outings, Cindy began to notice that her "mental conditioning" sessions were changing. Over the months, Cindy had been putting herself into trance by setting and starting the metronome, and then simply allowing herself to sink down and down and down into the familiar state of being that was a wonderful dream-like condition she had rapidly become addicted to. She looked forward to these moments ... she desired them with an almost sexual intensity. She never remembered what Stepmother had told her when she was in her trance ... and more than once, she had noticed afterwards that her ears were rather damp with sweat and her hair had been pressed in on the sides, indicating that she might have been wearing headphones ... and so, she decided, Stepmother's hypnotic instructions to her might have been recorded in advance. Perhaps she was simply re-living the same trance state over and over again. However, each time she awoke from these sessions, she felt alive and happy and energetic.

But now, she found herself struggling up from the depths of especially profound levels of sleep ... like trying to awaken after taking a sleeping pill. She had the strange impression that she and Stepmother had been arguing about something, and this left her feeling disturbed and uncertain. Finally, after having awakened from what she somehow knew was the deepest trance she had ever experienced, she asked in meek supplication what the matter was. Stepmother seemed to be pouting, but finally appeared to give her a weak smile. 

"I have discovered a willful streak in you, Cindy. It bothers me exceedingly."

"Willful?" Cindy pondered aloud. "Stepmother, I will do ANYTHING for you."

"Will you tell me what you and Betty talk about while you are together in her room?"

"Oh my," Cindy exclaimed aloud, looking troublingly down at her hands on her lap. "You ... you want me to ... to tell you what has been said to me in confidence? You want me to act as a spy against your own daughter?"

The woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You ... um ... have a way of making my request sound rather sinister."

"Oh, Stepmother, PLEASE don't make me do that! Betty is the only real friend I've ever HAD!" Cindy took a deep breath. Her eyes were threatening to spill over. "Can I just tell you that she is trying to work out her problems? That I think she's going to be okay? I really, really don't think that she's going to run away ... not any more. But ... but if she finds out that I betrayed her .... Oh, please don't make me!"

"She's been home for more than four months now," Stepmother groused. "I AM going to find out why she dropped out! I AM going to help her! Why does she confide in YOU and not in ME? And what could be so onerous that you ... who I thought I had broken completely to my will ... won't answer a few simple questions about her, even when I take you to the deepest levels of hypnotic control?"

Tears were streaming down both of Cindy's cheeks now. "There's NOTHING onerous! But Betty is my sister! She's my FRIEND!"

"Sister?" The word seemed to physically shake the woman. She sat back and regarded Cindy in new light. "Sister?" Cindy couldn't make herself look up. She tried to silently command her tears to stop. "Alright, Cindy," Stepmother said quietly. "I'm sorry I upset you. You may leave now."

And Cindy fled. She tried to find Betty, not really sure what she was going to say. Somehow, despite all the openness and honesty she shared with her, she had never actually TOLD Betty that she was being hypnotically controlled ... that most of her actions, sexual or otherwise, had been directed through a sort of consensual mind control. But Betty had gone out again, leaving a note in Cindy's room that she was going to meet up with some girls she'd met the previous week, and together, they were going to some bars downtown. She would be back late, the note said. Cindy finished her daily chores, worked out alone, and tried to listen to Daddy at dinner as he talked about some old British stamp he had won on an online auction. She resolved to read her novel (another of Stepmother's romance books) until Betty returned, but she kept nodding off. She stripped off her robe and climbed into bed, where she immediately saw her metronome in her mind, and just like always, she was instantly asleep.

The next morning, Betty rushed into the dining room while Cindy was pouring the skim mild on her cereal and hugged her. "I've FOUND her, Cindy!" she squealed, jumping up and down in girlish excitement. She was still wearing the clothes she's had on the day before. She stopped and looked around nervously. "Can we go up to my room? Can we talk?" Cindy looked forlornly at her breakfast, but smiled and followed her friend upstairs.

"It's her!" Betty cried as soon as the bedroom door was closed. "Absolutely! Beyond a doubt! Cindy, I'm in love!" 

Cindy grasped the girl by the arms and led her to the bed, sitting down next to her. "I believe you! Tell me!"

"I met these girls last week, and we had a few drinks, and so yesterday, one of them called me up and they all wanted to go out again. And so, we had a drink in the Hyatt bar downtown, and then we left and we went to this upscale bar next door ... I don't even know the name of the place ... some yuppie pub that had ferns hanging all over the dining area, and I spotted her on the other side of the room, and she was with a bunch of girls, too, and she looked up and our eyes met. Have you ever seen West Side Story? It was like that, honest to God! And I got up and she got up and we walked toward each other and we met in the middle of the room. And I said: 'Hi, I'm Betty.' And she said: 'I'm Juno.' And ...."

"Juno?"

"Yeah, like the city in Canada. And ...."

"Alaska. It's the capital of Alaska."

"Whatever. And we sat down at a table that was open ... right there where we met ... and we both ignored the girls we were with. And we just talked and talked and talked. And Cindy, she's so SMART! I mean, she's got a degree in Electrical Engineering! But the job market being what it is, she's only got a job as a tech support person for some big software firm downtown. But ... oh, Cindy, I don't know what to tell you next! She's fucking PERFECT!"

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong next," Cindy hinted quietly.

Betty paused and seemed to shrink a little. She regarded her friend almost shyly. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

Cindy paused a few seconds. "What is it, Betty?" she asked tenderly.

"Damn, girl, you can see right through me, can't you?" Betty fidgeted and wrung her hands together.

"Whatever it is, it's probably all in your mind," Cindy said calmly. "Nothing is ever as bad as you think it is."

"It's pretty bad." Betty took a deep breath. "She's black."

Cindy couldn't help it. She barked a loud, single laugh before she could stop herself. "You mean she's African American?" She smiled askance at Betty. "Are you out of your mind? This is the Twenty-first Century! This is OUR generation! Nobody gives a shit about race anymore!"

"Louisville is in the South, honeychild," Betty said bitterly. "Or it THINKS it is, anyway. And oh yes, it does matter. You should have seen the girls I was with! You should have seen the girls SHE was with! They all sat there scowling at us. One of the gals I was with came over and confronted me ... wanted to know what if I was going to come back and sit with them or stay there and make sweet-talk with the black girl ... only she didn't call her black, if you know what I mean."

"What did you do?"

Betty reflected for a moment and shrugged. "I hit her, of course."

Cindy grinned. "Of course."

"And then Juno and I got out of there, and we went to another bar down the street. And we just talked and talked forever."

"And did anybody give you any shit in THAT place?" Cindy wanted to know.

That made Betty pause. "No."

"That's because: IT. DOESN'T. MATTER." Cindy said, punctuating each word. "And, it's red-neck bigots that REALLY don't matter. Ignore them. Love matters. Is it love, Betty?"

The girl smiled. "Oh yes. Yes, it is."

"Then I'm really happy for you."

Betty seized Cindy's hand and held it in both of hers. "Oh gosh, I can't even explain it! We split a sandwich and we had a couple drinks, and then I told her that I wanted to take her to a hotel room; and she got all nervous and smiled and said that she'd never ever done anything like that before; and I told her that I hadn't either, except that I'd kissed my stepsister because we were best friends and I just wanted to see what it was like; and I think that maybe she was getting a little tired of hearing about YOU, because I'd already mentioned you more than a few times; but anyway, we went to the big hotel next door and I got us a room; and we went upstairs; and she just stood there while I undressed her; and then we kissed; and oh, Cindy, it was just PERFECT! And she didn't know what to do; and I didn't know what to do; and we just kissed and touched and caressed and stroked and nibbled and licked; and she makes this funny little noise when she cums; and her body just seemed to melt into mine; and she was almost frantic because she just HAD to please me sexually, but she didn't have a clue what to do; and God, she's so fucking CUTE!"

"It's going to work out, Betty," Cindy said encouragingly. 

The slender brunette shrugged. "We're like those two families in Romeo and Juliet."

"The Montagues and the Capulets?"

"How do you KNOW all this shit?" Betty said admiringly. "First geography and then lit. Anyhow, I'm afraid we have a forbidden love."

That made Cindy laugh out loud. "Give me a break! There may be a few religious wackos out there hung up on the lesbian thing that might call it 'forbidden,' but only social Neanderthals still worry about race, trust me." 

Betty sighed. "Whatever. It doesn't really matter. She says her mom is going to freak. Hell, MY mom is going to freak!"

Cindy shifted nervously. "And speaking of your mom ... Betty, you have GOT to start talking to her. She's really, really worried about you. She's asking about why you left school ... but I don't think that's actually what she's concerned about. She's concerned for YOU! For your happiness! You don't have to TELL her anything ... but if you don't start TALKING to her pretty soon, she's going to flip!"

"Yeah. You're right. It's time to bury the hatchet. It's just that her idea of happiness is two ex-husbands, pre-nups that pay big, and the freedom to go get porked by somebody else."

"You think she has a lover?" Cindy asked, shocked. That had never dawned on her.

"Oh, you'd better believe it. I don't know who the guy is ... somebody she's been seeing for a long time, I bet. Probably since before husband numero uno. She's been sneaking out at night for as long as I can remember."

"Wow."

"Okay, I'll go talk to her. Juno and I are meeting again tonight. I can't WAIT!"

And so it was that Cindy's routine changed yet again. Betty was busy with her newfound love, and so cleaning duties were lonelier, as were her afternoon workouts. The hour-long sessions in Stepmother's office went back to their old custom, as well, since now mother and daughter were speaking again, at long last. There didn't seem to be any substantive communication going on, but oddly, that didn't seem to matter. They were pleasant, and that was enough to establish an uneasy contentment. Three times per week, Cindy had sex. In the evenings, she sat and tried to keep herself interested in her novel, and she wondered what the characters in the book were getting that she was not. Something was lacking, she felt. The sex was most certainly satisfying ... it made her body shiver and tingle. She liked the men she was with, even though they were so amazingly different. And, at the end of each day, she would get up, strip off her robe, and crawl into bed, only to be plunged into her hypnotically-induced slumber until morning and the start of another day.

And then ... catastrophe. Juno had shown up for one of their trysts, and she had told Betty that it was over. She had evidently confided in her mother, and the woman had come unglued. Betty didn't know if it was racial or the sexual orientation of the affair or simply the idea of sex at all. It must have been a horrible argument, for Juno (according to Betty) had been so upset that she seemed on the verge of emotional collapse. In her angst, Betty had insisted on driving Juno and confronting her mother along with her, but that had not ended well at all. In fact, Juno's mother had met them on her front porch with a loaded shotgun. When last Betty had seen her one true love, Juno was crying hysterically at her mother's feet, screaming at her lover to leave. Now, Betty was certain that her love life was over forever.

In the following week, Betty stayed mostly in her own room, moping and crying. She refused to eat until Cindy and Stepmother had joined forces and taken a tray to her room, refusing to leave until she had eaten something. Stepmother still had no clue that her daughter's lover had been another woman ... but, Cindy reflected, it didn't seem to matter anymore, now that the relationship was over.

It is important, in this, the next portion of our tale, to realize that the idea of the masked ball was Stepmother's, and hers alone. Neither Cindy nor Betty knew what had prompted her to start making plans for the affair. And anyway, it wasn't really a ball ... or even an actual party. There were to be only three guests, but Cindy was never made privy to any further plans, other than the cleaning of the main library in the south wing of the first floor. Stepmother DID press Betty into service for the event, and oddly, the girl seemed to come out of her melancholy shell and support the matter in the end, though she was rather unenthusiastic. Cindy asked her friend for details, but now even Betty refused to let her become involved in any way. 

Betty and her mother spent a few hours in the woman's private office, discussing this and that. Phone calls were made. Pablo was sent to a costume shop to pick up hanging bags and wrapped parcels, and later, he was also given the task of fixing the hors d'oeuvrs. The event was set for Friday night. Thursday, Cindy tackled the library ... a room she had only been in twice before, since it was one of those odd places that nobody ever used, and so it was never actually in need of cleaning. She vacuumed, dusted and used furniture polish on the various library tables. The worst task of her tenure here, in her opinion, was the dusting of the books themselves. To her, it was as if she were an underpaid cashier who was forced to handle large sums of money, knowing that none of it would ever come her way. She loved books ... longed for books ... possessed an emotion akin to lust for books. The only volumes she was actually allowed to READ were those "loaned" to her by Stepmother; and their choices of genres were evidently vastly different. Cindy sighed and tried not to read the titles she was dusting, hoping only to finish her task and leave.

And still Betty seemed to be avoiding her.

The afternoon of the next day, things really started getting frantic. Daddy seemed to have no knowledge that anything was happening in his household at all. He spent the day in his Stamp Room, doing whatever it was that he did all day. Pablo pouted. This was his day to take Cindy sexually ... usually in his room. But now, his duties preempted this luxury, and he was busy in the kitchen the entire day. Cindy stuck to her schedule, altering it only to include two of the downstairs bathrooms, a sitting room and a den, none of which had ever been used during her tenure there. She was told to forgo her daily workout in order to include the extra tasks. Then, after dinner, Stepmother told her to go and bring Daddy to her office. He seemed peeved to leave his stamps, but answered the summons without comment. Cindy was surprised, moments after he had gone in and closed the office door, to hear the metronome clacking away at what she now recognized as his special rhythm. The goal of this occurrence was evident; he would sleep while the party was going on downstairs.

The doorbell rang about eight-thirty while Cindy was bringing up the laundry from downstairs, and since no one else seemed to be around, she went to the door and answered it. A tall, slender blonde in tight halter and miniskirt stood on the threshold, looking around. "Ho-lee shit, will you look at this place!?" the blonde exclaimed, stepping into the foyer, her eyes wide. She turned to Cindy. "Do you LIVE here!?"

"I work here," Cindy said calmly. "Can I help you?"

"Are you alone?" yelled Betty, walking down the big stairway. "Where's the other one?"

The blonde shrugged. "I don't know. She might be late."

"What do you mean, late?!" Betty screamed. "I thought you two were coming together!"

"Well, we didn't," the girl said defiantly. "Am I going to go to this party like this?" She held out her arms to indicate what she was wearing. "You have some sort of costume, right? Where do I change?"

Betty gave her a sour look. "Follow me!" she ordered, and led her up the stairs, Cindy following with the laundry basket.

"Hey," the blonde said, walking along. "Do you guys have any blow? You know ... just something to take the edge off?"




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 05



Betty groaned. "No, we don't have any blow."

"In a place like THIS? What? You can't afford it?"

"We don't have any blow!"

"Alright! Sheesh! What a grouch!"

At the top of the stairs, Betty pointed. "Third door on your left. The costume is on the bed. I'll come and get you in forty-five minutes. And your friend had better show up soon!"

"She'll be here. Don't get your shorts in a bunch!" The girl disappeared into one of the spare bedrooms.

Betty turned to Cindy. "Listen, baby sister ... I know you're curious about what's going on here. It's a really bizarre plan that Mom thought up ... and I just sort of went along with it because ... well, because I didn't have anything else to do tonight, I guess. But my one and only stipulation was that YOU were not to get involved. Mom agreed, and so that's that. I promise I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. I'll tell you everything, scout's honor. You okay with that?"

Cindy reached out and took her hand. "Sure, whatever you say. I hope you have fun tonight."

Betty gave her a thin grin, then turned and walked down the hall to her own room. Cindy sighed. She carried her load of laundry to the maid's closet and deposited it for tomorrow's chores, then went to her room, stripped, put on her robe and sat down to read. An hour later, she heard a car on the driveway and went to her window to see what the commotion was. Three guys, each of them dressed like Robin Hood, were getting out of a sleek Mercedes sports car, laughing, yelling at one another. It looked like it was going to be quite a night, she decided, and she honestly hoped Betty would have a good time. She was on her way back to her chair when Stepmother rushed in, a look of panic in her eyes.

"Cindy! You've GOT to help me! Can you? Please?"

"Of course, Stepmother. I'll do anything you want! What's the matter?"

"One of the girls didn't show up! It's VITAL that there be another girl at the party! Can you? Can you, please?"

Cindy looked uncertain. "Betty said I wasn't supposed to attend. Is it okay with her?"

"I'm sure she'll understand. There simply is no other way to make it work! We're out of time! Come with me! Hurry!" The woman literally ran out of the room and down the hall toward the other wing of the building. Cindy didn't wait to change. Still wearing the light robe, she sprinted after her. They wound up in the spare bedroom the blonde had used to change. Spread out on the bed was a harem girl's outfit: pants of gauzy, see-through material that was only slightly more translucent at the crotch, and a top that was little more than a sequined bra, also made of a flimsy material that would leave very little to the imagination.

"Hurry!" Stepmother pleaded. Cindy unfastened the belt of her robe and shucked it off, letting it fall to the floor. Stepmother gasped. "When did you do THAT?" she asked, pointing toward the girl's nether region.

Cindy blushed. "A month ago. Betty helped me. We did it again last week." She picked up the pants, which were obviously meant to be worn without panties, and began pulling them on.

"Sisters," Stepmother muttered. She shook her head and stepped back to observe the girl getting dressed. "My gosh, Cindy, what's happened to the pudgy little girl who came here four months ago?" she queried wonderingly. 

Cindy blushed and started working on the top. "Oh, Stepmother! This is NEVER going to fit!"

The woman hurried to her and groaned. "It was done with a special fitting for the other girl. Oh! We've got to make up at least three inches before we can get it on you. Wait right here!" and she rushed out, only to return thirty seconds later with a couple safety pins and a piece of satin ribbon that didn't even come close to matching the garment's color. She struggled with it behind Cindy's back. "There!" she said at last. "I don't know how long it's going to hold. Try not to breathe!"

There were no shoes to the costume. The final phase was a mask which was so elaborate that Cindy had to sit in a chair while Stepmother worked for two full minutes getting it on. Cindy's hair stuck into the back of the affair, hiding it completely, and then the mask came over the top of her head and covered her face down to her nose. It latched on either side, so that nothing would allow it to come off without first working to release the latches, and then unwinding it from her face, head and hair. Cindy looked at the finished product in the mirror. It was an owl mask, replete with colored feathers, and it covered the top of her face and head so completely that there was absolutely nothing that gave any clue as to her identity. The last step was the application of bright red lipstick.

"You are to leave the mask on at all times. Understand? Now, hurry!" Stepmother urged, leading her out of the room and down the stairway. At the door to the library, she paused. "Stay here!" she ordered in a harsh whisper, and she ran in the direction of the kitchen and returned with two glasses of pink liquid. "Drink this! Hurry!" she urged, thrusting a glass into Cindy's hand. She didn't hesitate. She drank two gulps, paused to accustom herself to the harsh taste, and then took two more swallows, finishing it. It left her gasping a little. "Good girl!" Stepmother said, beaming. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Stepmother."

"Good. Now, do exactly as you are told. Men will touch you. Allow it. Men will want to have sex with you. Do whatever they want. Understand?"

"Sex?"

"I'd better prepare you," the woman declared solemnly, and in one smooth motion, she pulled something out of her sweater pocket and held it up in front of the girl. 

"Oh my," Cindy said softly, staring at the dangling crystal.

"Relax, my little pet. Relax for me, and stare into the crystal. See only the crystal. Hear only my voice. Relax ... submit ... surrender ... obey ... obey ... obey. Say it, Cindy."

"Obey," Cindy muttered in a faraway voice.

"Good girl. You are feeling very good now, because I put something in your drink. You will be relaxed tonight. You know that you are going to have sex with each of the men in that room, but you accept that. You will do that. You will do whatever anybody tells you. You will obey."

"Obey."

"Good girl. And now, wake up!" and Stepmother snapped her fingers.

"Oh my," Cindy said, blinking. 

"Here! This is your second drink. The other girls have already finished theirs. Sip it slowly, but finish it, alright?"

"Yes, Stepmother. I won't let you down. I promise."

"Good girl. Now, in you go!"

Stepmother opened the door, and suddenly Cindy was in the room. She staggered a little, and only just kept from spilling her drink. The others hadn't noticed her yet, and kept talking animatedly at the other side of the room in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace. The three Robin Hoods were there, and Cindy now saw that they were of three distinctly different sizes, ranging from about five-feet six-inches, to well over six feet in height. The tallest one was lanky. The shortest one muscular. All wore masks that covered their faces very effectively, like her own, and she couldn't even discern their hair color.

The two women in the room were dressed exactly like she was herself; the same diaphanous pants, the same skimpy top, the same owl mask that hid their identities completely. At last, one of the girls saw her and broke away from the group, coming toward her rapidly. "It is about-fucking-time you showed up, slut!" the sexy owl said. "What in the name of almighty hell kept you?"

"Betty?" Cindy asked meekly.

"Cindy?! What the fuck are YOU doing here?" She put her hand to her head. "Oh, no. You are NOT getting involved in this! That was my ONLY condition! She PROMISED me, damn it!"

"The other gal didn't show," Cindy explained in hushed tones.

"I don't give a flying fuck!" Betty hissed. "I'll call the whole damn thing off! I am NOT getting my little sister involved with ...."

"Tina!" the other sexy owl cried, walking up to them. "I thought you were going to Aspen with that fashion photographer! What made you change your mind?"

"I ... um ...." Cindy stuttered.

"Hey, Tina, you got any blow? These tightwads got nothing! I mean, what kind of party IS this, anyway?"

Betty took Cindy's drink out of her hand and gave it to the other girl. "Here."

"Oh, gee ... thanks! This is some kind of great shit! I don't know what's in it, but ... say, Tina, did you get your breasts done? You are NEVER going to get fashion work with gazoombas like THAT!"

"I ... uh ...."

"Wheeee!" the girl shrieked. She had just been grabbed around her bare waist by the mid-sized Robin Hood and spun back toward the fireplace.

"Hey girls! Come on back and join the party! We're just getting started!" the guy slurred. 

Betty spoke up: "Um ... could you give us a minute, Robin ... you big stud? We girl owls have to ... uh ... powder our beaks."

The guy guffawed and dragged the other owl back into the fray. She was gulping down the contents of Cindy's glass.

"Aw, fuck, Cindy. I can't believe you let yourself get roped into this," Betty moaned.

"What's happening?" asked Cindy. "What's this all about?"

"These three bozos are the 'Three Musketeers.' Ever hear of them?"

"No. And the Musketeers were French. Robin Hood is English," Cindy commented.

"Shit, girl! Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"Um ...."

"The 'Three Musketeers' are the most eligible bachelors in Louisville. Each of them is filthy rich, they all went to the same high school, they all went to the same college, yada yada yada. One is the son of the owner of the largest thoroughbred stables in the whole metropolitan area. One is the son of the biggest coal mining mogul in the state. And one is none other than The Prince, himself."

"Prince?"

"Have you ever heard of 'The King of Carpets?'" Betty asked.

"The guy on all the TV commercials?"

"Yep. The largest flooring manufacturing and sales outfit in the Ohio Valley. Well, one of those goons is his son. Believe it or not, 'The King' actually named his son 'Prince.' Of course, the old man croaked last year, leaving Princey Boy with a gaboodle of money." She paused and shook her head. "Anyway, dear old Mommy got the idea of having them all come here for an orgy."

"Orgy?"

"Sex, baby sister. The three of them are going to have sex with the three of us. That's the hypothesis, anyway. Mommy Dearest's plan, of course, goes a step further. In Mom's deepest, darkest fantasy, one of them becomes so enamored with little old ME, that he pursues me, weds me, and sets me up financially for life! Get it?"

"Betty," Cindy groaned. "You don't even LIKE men!"

Betty's shoulders slumped. "Cindy, if I can't have Juno, it simply doesn't matter anymore." She shrugged. "Guys. Gals. There's no difference without her. My one true love is lost and gone forever." She paused. "Sorry, I'm a rambling here. Mom spiked the punch."

Cindy reached out and put her arm around her friend's waist. "I'm feeling a little funny myself."

"One was enough for me," Betty explained, hugging her back. "I gave my second one to the Blonde Bimbo, too." Cindy giggled in response. "Okay, baby sister," Betty sighed. "I tried. I failed. So ... welcome to your first orgy. Try not to fuck it up." She brightened. "Hey! I made a joke!"

Cindy came to think of the Three Robin Musketeer Hoods as: Small, Medium and Large. Since she didn't have access to more intimate information ... at least not yet ... she based these descriptions on height only. Large, she decided, was dumb ... or at least, not very witty. Medium was loud, obnoxious, and clearly the leader of the group. She couldn't help but wonder if he was making up for some other inadequacy with his brash and condescending tone. And Small was quiet. Very quiet. He seemed out-of-place, nervous, ill-at-ease. She found herself feeling sorry for him.

The most embarrassing episode of the evening occurred early ... right after Cindy had joined the group. Medium was all over her almost immediately, touching, petting, feeling. She simply smiled and tolerated it, just as Stepmother had said she should, though the harem girl who was Betty seemed decidedly ill-at-ease and wanted secretly to play mother-hen. Eventually, he tired of Cindy's non-responsiveness, though, and turned his attention to the girl Betty had dubbed 'The Blonde Bimbo,' who was now feeling no pain whatever. They all stood around watching as Medium told yet another fantastic story of daring and chivalry while simultaneously feeling up his new sex interest, when suddenly, Large brazenly stuck his hand down the back of Cindy's pants and squeezed her ass. Cindy jumped and squealed, her breasts bouncing due to the sudden movement, when both of the safety pins holding her top let go simultaneously and bra, ribbon and pins scattered under extreme pressure, freeing her large breasts for all to see.

A cheer went up from a couple of the guys, and while Cindy was busy looking for the various parts of her makeshift top, they quickly decided to get the party moving at a faster pace by demanding that the other two girls ease the discomfort of the third by voluntarily removing THEIR tops, as well. This suggestion was finally put to a vote, but since the Blonde Bimbo had (in a fit of drunken revelry) already removed hers, the act of voting was moot. Cindy stopped struggling with the too-small garment, and Betty reluctantly removed hers as well. Medium and Large were really getting into the feel of the evening now. Cindy found her waist surrounded by Tall's strong arm, and he absent-mindedly traced a finger across her breasts as he recounted an episode that had occurred during a fishing trip the previous week. Medium was beginning to get very confidential with the Bimbo, who was giggling almost uncontrollably now. Small had wandered off to the other side of the room by himself.

"Hey, Big Boy," Betty said, somehow insinuating herself between Large and Cindy. "Why don't you tell ME about that fishing trip. I LOVE fishing!"

The tall Robin kept looking from Cindy's breasts to Betty's. Physically, he had made his choice ... but this new, slender woman would at least listen to his story, he finally realized ... and so he switched allegiances and set Cindy free. "Thank you," Cindy mouthed silently to Betty, and she quietly backed off from the pair and wandered over to where Small stood alone.

"You don't seem to be as enthusiastic as your buddies," Cindy said.

He shrugged. "I always thought this was a bad idea," he complained in a low voice. "I'm sorry if I'm being a party-pooper, but I really get tired of apologizing for those screwballs. They act without thinking, sometimes. Most of the time, actually." He shook his head as if to clear it. "I wish I hadn't taken that damned drink. It had something in it!"

"I know what you mean," Cindy replied. "I feel funny, too. I gave my second drink her." She pointed.

"Well, that explains a lot," he said, glancing at the masked girl making out with Medium. She could hardly stand on her own, and she was pressing her body against his with obvious passion. "I think they gave us guys a little something extra," Cindy's companion complained, blushing while he adjusted his trousers. "The number one party drug in the world now is Viagra or one of those other drugs like it."

Cindy smiled. "I'm sorry about speeding things along," she told him. "I really didn't mean for that to happen. This outfit wasn't designed for me, and it's way too small. I'm just sort of a stand-in."

He regarded her with a lot more interest now. "You're a stand-in for an orgy?" he asked. "What made you do that?"

She blushed. "I'm helping out a friend. The truth is, I'd do just about anything for her." She paused. "You ought to know about that ... being a Musketeer, and all. Or a Robin Hood, as the case might be."

"The idiots couldn't even get it straight between French heroes and British," he complained. "They STILL don't get it!"

Cindy swept her hand toward the bookshelves. "I'm sure we'll find Alexander Dumas here somewhere," she said smiling. "AND various British authors who wrote about the Locksley's. Maybe we could explain it to them." She looked across the room at the others. "But on second thought, maybe they all have something else on their minds right now."

He was giving her his entire attention, now. "You know, for a stand-in orgy harem girl, you are VERY interesting." He kept trying to peer only at her covered face, but his eyes were naturally drawn to her tits. 

She felt like covering herself with her hands, but she forced herself to just stand there, letting him feast his eyes on her flesh, and she tried to think of something to say. "Um ... I've never understood why the books on this side of the room are all the same ... all LOOK the same, I mean ... while the books on the other side all look normal."

He laughed. "Those over there are all modern firsts ... first editions, I mean. I could show you how to identify most of them, if you want."

"They're all well cared for," Cindy remarked. "They all have plastic protectors around their slipcovers."

"Slipcovers are for furniture, my dear. Books have dust jackets. And, believe it or not, the dust jacket is often the most valuable part of the book ... at least as far as collectability is concerned." He shifted his attention back to the leather-bound volumes nearest them. "These books over here are part of an old collection. Back in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries, bookstores were very different than they are today. Literacy rates were very low. Books were either made for schools, for churches ... or for the rich. If you wanted a new book, you went to a bindery. Printers would print the book ... the interior of the book, I mean ... and a book binder would bind it. If a wealthy family used the same binder, then it was easy to acquire a library where all the books were identically bound. Make sense?"

Cindy smiled. "You're a bibliophile!"

He seemed to be contemplating her. "Would you like to ... uh ... go somewhere else and just ... talk?" he asked. 

"Sure!"

But alas, that was the instant that a yell went up from the other side of the room. "Hey Robin Hood, you ugly fuck! It's time! Grab that wench and get your butt over here! Now!"

Small sighed. "I wish we didn't have to do this. I'd rather get to know you," he said, almost ruefully. He extended his hand to her, and she took it in her own, letting him lead her back to the other four participants. Once there, Medium took off his hat and put something in it, then held it out toward the Bimbo. It soon became obvious that she couldn't even focus her eyes on it, let alone figure out that she was meant to pick something out of it. Medium sighed and held the hat out to Cindy, instead. She reached in a picked something out of it. It was a red feather.

"You are most certainly a lucky girl," Medium declared. He motioned toward his hat, and Cindy saw that it had a red feather in its band. Looking around, she realized that each had a different colored feather. Betty picked a green feather, meaning that she would be with the Small Robin. Large quickly went to the tipsy Bimbo and gently led her over to the sofa at one side of the room. "Madam," Medium declared gallantly, extending his hand to Cindy. She took a deep breath, put her own hand in his, and followed him out the door and down the hall into the sitting room. Before entering, she looked back and saw Small and Betty going into the den. 

As soon as she was alone with him the guy grabbed her, pulled her body against his own, and kissed her ... not an easy task, considering that each was wearing a mask that extended over the wearer's nose. Then, the mask-nose poked her sensitive breast, making her cry out, before he finally got his sucking mouth over her right nipple. He clamped his teeth over the erect bud, making her jump and squirm. He was being very rough, pawing her, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples hard, running his palms down her sides, around her back to her ass and grasping it roughly. He fiddled for a long fifteen seconds with the catch at the back of her costume pants before becoming overly anxious, grasping the thin waistband and ripping the garment asunder, making her issue a scared little scream. 




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 05



This only seemed to turn him on more. He dragged her to one of the couches and flung her down on it, where she couldn't help trying to cover herself with her hands. Even Pablo, as rough as he was sometimes, was nothing like this. This man didn't just want sex. He wanted the power of taking someone weaker than himself. It was Cindy's first experience in the realm of sadism, and she had absolutely no idea what was happening to her. 

With little effort, he grasped her around the waist and flipped her over, then grabbed her thighs and dragged her backwards, draping her over the arm of the sofa. He stood behind her and pulled her legs far apart, then on a whim, he hit her ... hit her hard with his open palm across her ass, making her shriek. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. He slapped her again, then again and again, and finally stood behind her, fiddled with his pants for a few seconds, lined himself up and thrust hard into her open pussy. She screamed again, and in response, he laughed, leaned back and slapped her quivering buttocks three more times in rapid succession. Finally, he paused in this act of brutality, and he set up a rhythm, pumping hard into her. Cindy felt him fill her, but nothing else. She just prayed for it to be over ... and then, her prayers were answered. He stiffened, shouted a curse, pushed as far into her as he could, and began to shiver. Cindy didn't feel it happening inside her ... with Daddy and Pablo, she could feel their lurching cocks ... their squirting cum. But with this guy ... nothing. 

He breathed a ragged sigh and pulled out of her, panting, then he busied himself with his pants, pulling them up and fiddling with the buttons. Cindy crawled forward, away from him, crying. She curled up into a ball in the center of the couch and lay there, watching him the way a trapped mouse watches a snake. He grinned at her. "Well, THAT's the best YOU are going to get tonight, Sweetie," he declared. "Do me a favor; don't tell my friends how much better I am than them. I don't want them to get a complex or anything." And he walked to the door, opened it and was gone.

She didn't know what to do ... didn't know what to think. She just lay on her side, hugging herself. She closed her eyes and tried to stop the tears, shivering. She stayed that way for a long, long time. Then finally, slowly, she became aware that she was no longer alone in the room, and she opened her eyes again and saw a man standing right in front of her. Without conscious thought, she sprang upright, sitting in the center of the couch, and she drew her legs up against her and clutched her knees with her arms, watching him. At long last, she became aware that the man in front of her was the smallest of the trio ... the one she liked ... the one who talked about books. Their eyes met, and it was as if a massive emotional wave washed over her. She trusted this man. Somehow, she instinctively KNEW that he would be gentle with her ... would respect her ... would protect her. She leaped up and threw herself at him, standing on tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing the whole of her naked body against him.

"What did he do to you?" he hissed in her ear.

"It doesn't matter," she whispered. "Hold me. Oh, please hold me."

His arms were around her then, and they were strong and soothing and infinitely reassuring. She felt at home. This is where I belong, she thought. I was born to be held in these arms. She was aware that he was suppressing deep inner feelings, shaking slightly, clutching her nakedness to himself. She was very conscious of the hardness pressing against her lower belly.

"Would you think me terrible if I told you that I need you?" she asked softly. "Will you take me? Please?"

"Tell me what he did to you," he urged.

"No ... please don't make me tell. I just want to be yours now. I'll do whatever you want. I need to feel what it's like to please you. Please?"

He grasped her around the waist with his hands and lifted her, swinging her body to the side, scooping her into his arms, gently depositing her back onto the couch. He stood and stripped out of his clothing, slowly, purposefully, until he was as naked as she. Only the masks remained. He settled himself atop her, pressing his body into hers, feeling her luscious breasts flatten against his chest, feeling her legs spread wide, so that his cock lay against the smoothness of her vaginal lips. His mouth sought hers, and they kissed tenderly, gently, warmly, fervently, urgently, desperately. His cock lurched against her, straining. She began rotating her hips, trying to find the stiff invader and bring it home inside her. Somehow, it happened, and he was pressing, pressing, further, deeper. She gasped and clutched him with her arms, her legs moving up now, encircling his hips, her heels urging his buttocks to push forward, ever forward. 

They were together now. Firmly together. Wonderfully together. It was as if their bodies had fused. "Do you ... do you feel that?" he whispered hoarsely. 

"Oh, yes," she answered, straining upward to meet him. "Oh, my darling, yes."

He began thrusting, slowly, purposefully, endlessly, and each time their bodies met, they were as one. Her orgasm came from nowhere, shocking them both. It crashed over her, and she clenched every muscle in her body, her fingers digging into his back, her heels bringing him as deeply inside her as was physically possible, her toes curling, her cuntal walls grasping him, milking him. He strained his head upward and roared his lust at the ceiling, his passion throbbing and gushing in her body's core. And then he collapsed atop her, gasping, nestling into her.

"I ... I don't know what just happened," he told her quietly. "Whatever it was ... it's never happened before. Never before now."

"Yes," she told him gently.

"What ... what are we going to do about it?"

"I don't know," Cindy replied, so softly he could barely hear.

The door opened. "Hey dude! Time to switch!" The tallest of the three Robins stood there, lanky, naked except for his mask. His cock was flaccid.

"Listen, man," her lover said, annoyed. "Give us a few minutes here, will you?"

The other man approached. "Nothing doing, dude. Time's up. Get your wick out of that hole and give me a shot, will you? Your next assignment is back in the library. If she doesn't wake up, do her anyway. She's a nice piece."

The man atop her looked down into her eyes helplessly. "Listen ... I ... I ... um ...."

"Go," she told him softly. "And, thank you."

He got up, picked up his clothes, looked at her longingly, and left. He didn't bother getting dressed again.

"Okay, little lassie," the tall guy said, sitting down hard next to her. She sat up, waiting to see what he intended to have her do. "I hope you're ready for a food gucking!" he exclaimed. He blinked and thought for a moment. "A goof rucking." He frowned. Then he leaned his head back against the back of the couch and started snoring.

Cindy sat looking at him for a very long time, then she stood up, collected the shredded costume pants and went to the door. The hallway was empty. Nude, she tiptoed to the foyer, up the stairs, down the hall and into her room. It took a few minutes to finally get the mask off. She crawled into her bed, and for the first time, she did not think about Stepmother's metronome. Her thoughts were on something else entirely.

Below, a man entered the sitting room and stared at his sleeping friend. Frantically, he searched all the other rooms in that wing of the mansion.

Somewhere in the quiet house, a clock stuck midnight.



Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 06



Chapter Six

Cinderella's Choice

"You've got to be kidding!' Cindy giggled. She was lying on her stomach on Betty's bed, her chin propped in her hands, her bare legs and toes flexing, her eyes wide. "Pablo?"

"Weirdest thing I ever saw," Betty responded, lying beside her. "I got feeling all guilty in the middle of the night, and went back down to see if Bimbo was down there by herself somewhere, but she wasn't, so I figured that she'd left with the guys. And then this morning, I got up early and went down for a little breakfast ... and there she was, sitting across from him, holding his hand, and they were looking into each other's eyes like they were indulging in some serious infatuation. Seems that Pablo went up to make sure that all the doors were locked up after our little party, and he found her in the library. When he woke her up, she thought he was one of the 'guys,' and she told him that she was really tired of doing it on the couch, and begged him to take her to a bed somewhere and let her screw him there. So he, being a real gentleman, took her to HIS room downstairs, and I guess they fucked like bunnies the rest of the night. She was asking him to come to her place for dinner tonight!"

"Poor Pablo," Cindy muttered. "I bet he has a better English vocabulary that she does ... and I can't even IMAGINE how she cooks!" She pondered things for a minute. "When did YOU leave the party?" she asked.

Betty shrugged. "A little before midnight, I guess. I don't know when the guys left ... but one of them most certainly didn't leave under his own power."

"Because he was drunk?" Cindy guessed.

"Because I kicked him in the crotch so hard, his balls are probably in his lungs," she said acidly.

"You did WHAT?"

"He hit me, the asshole. I told him that he'd better NEVER do that again ... and of course, he did it again ... slapped me right across the face. I had a boyfriend once that taught me how to punt a football ... and that's just what I did with his nuts. The asshole obviously really gets off on hitting women, because his pecker was sticking straight up, so I'm afraid there was nothing else to pad it. He didn't even yell. He just opened his mouth really wide, he turned sort of blue all over, and he keeled over to one side. I just left him squirming around on the floor, and walked upstairs and went to bed."

"I know how you feel," Cindy said quietly.

"OH! MY! GOD! He hit YOU! He hit you, too, didn't he? The asshole hit you, too!"

"Oh, yes," Cindy said. "Looking back on it now, I guess he didn't really hurt me THAT much, but it sure seemed like it at the time. I don't think I've EVER been so afraid!"

Betty actually had tears in her eyes. "Aw, Cindy ... THAT'S what I was trying to protect you from! I can't BELIEVE I caved in and let you stay! I was such a dummy!"

"It's okay. The next guy was REALLY sweet. He sort of made up for any of the bad stuff."

"The short one?" Betty guessed.

Cindy blushed. "Yes."

"He's the 'Prince' I was telling you about last night. And guess what? I've got a date with him tonight!"

Cindy suddenly sobered. "You're going out with him?"

"What's the matter, baby sister? Jealous?" Betty looked at her for a long moment. "Hey, you ARE, aren't you? Are you hung up on the guy?"

Cindy shrugged. She tried to smile, but failed. "I thought maybe something was there. I guess not." She thought for a moment. "Are you getting back into guys now?"

Betty sighed. "I don't know. I just can't let go of the idea of HER, you know? Oh, man, I loved that girl! But, maybe Mom is right. Find a rich guy and take him for all he's worth. And he WAS sort of sweet last night. Not only gentle ... but a gentleman, you know what I mean?"

"Yes," Cindy said, barely above a whisper. "I know what you mean."

"Hey, baby sister ... if this isn't okay with you, I'll tell the guy to go fuck himself. No kidding."

"No, I'm being silly. I'm just a stupid maid, for goodness sake! He's a Prince! Of carpets, or whatever."

"Mom says that he sold out the whole shebang, lock, stock and linoleum. She says he hated the family business. He's into some weird, off-the-wall hobby now. Books or something." She contemplated this. "Could be worse, I guess. Mom said he called her about noon today and wanted to know who the three girls were ... said he wanted to get in touch with one of them. Mom told him that her own daughter was one of them, and she made up some story about me being a last-minute replacement to help a friend. THAT really seemed to get him interested, and so she put me on the phone, and he asked me out. Five-star restaurant, even." She pondered the situation. "Of course, he's done it to me once ... so he's just going to naturally assume that he can do it again." She lapsed into silence.

"I've got to get back to work," Cindy said sullenly. She left Betty to worry about her night out ... or whether she really wanted one. Once again, the afternoon workout was on her own. Daddy thought she was brooding during dinner, so she tried to cheer up for his sake. Pablo was out for the evening (Cindy didn't tell the others that she knew where he had gone), and so when the doorbell rang, she excused herself and went to answer it. 

And there he was. It was him, no doubt about it (she could tell by his height and the color of his eyes), and her heart skipped a beat, despite her self-deprecating attitude. He looked like a million bucks, dressed casually in a white turtleneck and sports coat. But his gaze didn't settle on her at all ... it slid over her shoulder to Betty, who was coming down the stairs with Stepmother. Introductions were made (excluding the hired help, of course), but Cindy couldn't help but notice that his eyes narrowed a bit as he observed his date for the evening. "I'll have her home by midnight, ma'am," he told Stepmother cordially. 

Stepmother blanched at the moniker, but kept her smile pasted on for effect. "No hurry at all. You two have fun," she told them. "Drive safely. It's supposed to rain tonight, and they say it might be icy, too." He promised they would be careful, and then they were off in the same Mercedes that had brought the revelers the night before. 

It turned out to be a long night. Cindy did some laundry and finally went to her room rather late. She tried to read, but she found the book sappy and juvenile. In her mind, she kept wondering what Betty and the Prince were doing at that moment. Dinner had to be long-over, she thought. She tried to rationalize things ... approach them logically in her mind. It simply didn't make any sense that she should feel this way about somebody she had no chance at all of being with, while Betty looked upon sex as simply something that needed to be done ... a chore to be tolerated. 

Well, except when she was thinking about Juno, of course. THAT was different. In her room today, she had spoken about sex with ... (what was his name, she wondered. He simply COULDN'T call himself "Prince"). Anyway, Betty had spoken about the prospect of sex with him as something that should be expected because it had happened before. B follows A, and C follows B; therefore, etc, etc, etc. Oh, but when CINDY had been with him ... well all logic was suddenly called off. Had it really all been her imagination? Had it been an illusion?

She listened to the rain outside, and decided that it was really pouring now. She looked at her alarm clock; eleven-thirty. If he was true to his word, he would have her back, soon. She got up and went to the window overlooking the driveway. Holy cow, it was raining hard! If they were still on the highway, they'd probably be creeping along in this stuff. Maybe they'd just stay together ... in a motel room, maybe. Cindy's imagination was really running rampant.

She strained her eyes, then she went to the far wall and switched off the overhead light before coming back to the window. She squinted into the drenched darkness, looking past the driveway, looking at something strange about a hundred yards away in the flickering gloom. Somebody was there. The longer she stayed, peering at it, the more certain she was. Whoever it was, he wasn't moving ... just standing there in the awful rain.

And suddenly, she knew.

She raced out of the room without bothering to change out of her robe ... down the stairs ... down the short distance to the closet that held the vacuum cleaner. She'd seen it a hundred times, and had never really thought about it until now ... the yellow rain slicker. There was an umbrella, too, and she snatched it up while struggling to cover her robed figure with the raincoat. She didn't even pause to shut the front door behind her, leaving the huge portal wide open, and she raced forward into the downpour. 

OH MY, it was cold! In the snugness of the mansion, she had never realized how chill the evening had become. It was one of those early-winter nights when people would remark "A few degrees colder, and we'd be having a blizzard." As she grew closer, the figure finally moved ... moved away from her, albeit slowly. What should she do? If it was her out there, what could be said to stop her? Ah, she knew the answer to that, too.

"Juno!" she cried. "Stop and obey!"

The figure froze and just stood there, uncertain, immobile. Cindy was upon her now, and she struggled with the umbrella to open it, finally holding it above the shivering, slender form. She put her arm around her. "Oh my, Juno, you're freezing! How long have you been out here?" Without waiting for an answer, she began leading the slight girl toward the house. As they walked, Juno struggled to speak, but evidently found it impossible. They were inside now, and Cindy simply dumped the umbrella in the foyer, paused long enough to close the door and shuck off the raincoat, and she was back again, her arm around the girl, leading her up the stairs, leaving a long, wet, watery trail behind them from Juno's dripping clothes. She took her to her own bathroom ... why, she didn't really know ... and she started the shower to get the water temperature up. Juno's clothes were sodden and difficult to get off, but the girl simply stood there, not fighting, not helping, as Cindy stripped her bare. Finally, fearing that the girl would collapse if she let go of her, she drew off her own robe and then pulled Juno into the warm shower. She wasn't sure how to treat hypothermia. If the water was too hot, would it pose a risk? She simply didn't know, so she left the temperature warm, but not too hot, and she took one of Juno's arms and began rubbing it briskly. (Cindy would read later that her choice of treatment was all wrong.)

Juno looked at her blankly. "Is Betty ...?"

"She's out tonight. She should be back soon."

The girl blinked. "You're Cindy."

"Yes, I'm Cindy."

"I ... I thought I was going to hate you," the girl said. She staggered and tripped into Cindy's arms, shaking uncontrollably.

Cindy put her arms around her. "Oh my," she mumbled. "You're REALLY cold!"

And suddenly, Betty was there. "WHAT! THE! FUCK!?" she screamed, staring at them.

Cindy had no stomach for games. "Damn it, Betty, HELP ME!" she hollered back.

Betty's eyes went wide, and she appeared to physically stagger back under Cindy's rebuke. "What ... what ...?"

And, of course, Juno chose this moment to suddenly become aware of her surroundings. She noticed Betty for the first time, and with a plaintive cry, she ran out of the shower stall and into her arms, immediately soaking the evening dress Betty was wearing. "SHIT, Juno ... you're FREEZING!"

Cindy followed Juno out of the shower after turning it off, grabbed a towel and began drying the dripping, slender figure; which was not an easy task to accomplish when two lovers are clutching each other. She dried herself, as well. Finally, she snatched another dry towel, pressed her own naked body against Juno's bare back, and wrapped the towel around all of them like a blanket. (Cindy would read later that this was actually an EXCELLENT way to treat hypothermia.)

They stayed like that for a long, long time. Slowly, it dawned on Cindy that she was the only one in this strange threesome who was not crying like a baby, and she felt that, if the medical crisis was over, she should leave the two lovebirds alone. "Do you think you're going to be okay?" she asked tentatively. Not getting an answer, she said: "I think we should get her into your room, Betty. Strip and hold her against you for body heat and keep covered up. As soon as I help you get her there, I'll go get some cocoa or something. Lord knows how long she was out in the cold rain!"

"What the fuck did you think you were DOING?" Betty chided, starting to lead her lover toward the other wing of the mansion. Cindy, also wrapped in a towel, helped support the girl on the other side.

"I ... I ... HAD to see you," Juno said in a weak voice, her teeth chattering. "I HAD to! I made the cabbie drop me off at the gate at the head of the driveway. But when I got closer, I started worrying that this was the wrong house. And then I started worrying that it was the RIGHT house! I mean, what was I supposed to do ... knock on the door and say: 'Pardon me, but does my white lesbian lover live here?'"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Cindy said loudly. "You two DESERVE each other! You're both IDIOTS!"

And, as if things couldn't get any worse, one of the doors in front of them opened, and Stepmother was standing there, glaring at them. Juno, like a frightened little animal, turned toward Betty, threw her arms around her lover and buried her face into the side of her neck, shivering uncontrollably. Unfortunately, as she did so, the towel that was wrapped around her slid off, leaving her completely nude.

"What in the world is going on out here?" the woman demanded.

"Um ... Mom ... I ... uh ...." Betty stammered.

Cindy detached herself from the other two and stepped forward, grasping her mistress's arm. "Stepmother, please. We're in the middle of a little crisis here, and it would be SO much better if you'd let us handle it right now. Betty can explain it all to you tomorrow ... please ...."

Slowly, slowly, a small smile spread across Stepmother's face. "At last," she muttered, "... at long last, a little light begins to dawn." But then her expression turned to one of worry, and she reached out and put a hand on Juno's shoulder. "Are you alright, my dear?"

Before anyone could answer, Cindy put her lips to her ear and whispered: "Stepmother, you REALLY should let Betty handle this herself."

The woman nodded. "Very well ... you're right, of course. I'll bid you goodnight, then." And she went back into her room and shut the door without further comment.

Cindy got the two girls settled in Betty's room, went and made hot chocolate, in hopes of getting some warm liquid into the shivering Juno (yet another proper treatment for hypothermia, she would find out later), then spent the next half hour mopping up the water that Juno had dripped from the front door all the way up the stairs to Cindy's bathroom (which, of course, was the way Betty had tracked them there and found them together). About two o'clock, she finally tumbled into bed, and she was asleep practically as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next day, Cindy was restocking all the bathrooms on the upper floor when Betty and Juno found her. "Mom's given you the rest of the day off," Betty said, smiling. "The three of us are going shopping together. No ... don't try to argue! It's all arranged. Just drop everything right where it is and follow us!"

Their first stop was at a beauty salon, where all three had their hair done, then lunch, and then to the best dress shop in the mall, where each of them tried on a half-dozen dresses each, commenting on each other's choices, and finally, they decided to wear their purchases out of the store, carrying their old clothes in shopping bags. Next stop, the shoe store, where Cindy found herself in a new pair of heels to match the dress. She had never done this type of shopping before, of course ... never had the money, the time or the inclination. But she had to admit that she was having the time of her life. This was the first time she had really had a chance to get to know Juno, and she found the young woman bright, witty and a lot of fun to be with. Like Cindy, she had never been a part of this type of shopping spree before. And now, to top it all off, Betty took them both to the cosmetic counter in the mall's high-class department store and commanded a "makeover" from the sales representatives, making it more than worth their while by purchasing in excess of five hundred dollars worth of cosmetics.

During this last exercise in femininity, however, Betty started checking her wristwatch frequently, and wound up rushing things a little at the end. She drove home rapidly, and perhaps a little recklessly, pulling up in the driveway behind a now-familiar Mercedes sports car. "The Prince" was leaning nonchalantly on the trunk of the vehicle, watching them drive up.

"Hey, Betty. I thought we had a date," he said, smiling.

"I'm just using my womanly prerogative by being ever so fashionably late," she answered sweetly. "Raymond, I'd like you to meet my two best friends in the whole world." She turned and indicated them. "This is Juno, and THIS" (pause for effect) "is Cindy. Ladies, may I introduce you to Raymond, the erstwhile Prince of Carpets."

Cindy fidgeted while Juno shook hands, and then extended her own. His hand was warm and strong, and his eyes glittered as he swept them up and down her body, finally letting them rest on her own. "Do I know you?" he asked pleasantly.

"Cindy let you in yesterday evening," Betty said sweetly.

He nodded. "Please forgive me, Cindy. I don't know why, but I thought you were the maid."

"I ... I AM the maid," she answered, before Betty had a chance to explain.

And instead of being embarrassed, he threw back his head and laughed merrily. "Well," he said smoothly, "besides being the maid AND one of Betty's best friends, you're also distractingly pretty. Please pardon me for staring." He finally let go of her hand while she blushed and looked down self-consciously. "Okay, Betty," he said, turning to her, "ready to go?"

"No," Betty said smugly. "The truth of the matter is that I want to tell my two friends a little story. Do you mind?" He gave her a quizzical look and shrugged. "Ladies," Betty continued, "once upon a time, there was a prince. This prince, a brave, chivalrous fellow, attended a masked costume party, and there, he fell in love with a girl ... and, coincidentally, he fucked her silly ... not necessarily in that order. Unfortunately, at the height of this occurrence, he was: Number One, high as a kite because somebody had spiked his drink; and Number Two, unable to learn his new love's identity, because of her mask. He doesn't know what she LOOKS like, but the one thing he DOES know is what she FEELS like. He'll never forget how they 'fit' together. Later, he decided that he must pursue this girl ... he must find her at all cost. Eventually, he located one girl who he believed was there that night. He wined her and he dined her and he coaxed her into his bed; but alas, he did not 'fit' inside her the way he had with the woman of his dreams. Is he doomed, do you think, to fuck every girl in the city until he finally finds the one who will prove to be the lock to his key?"

Well, he was certainly blushing now. He sighed and straightened his shoulders. "Look, Betty," he said quietly, "I'm really sorry if I embarrassed you last night. I had no intention of ...."

"Don't be silly, Raymond," she said, grinning. "I had a GREAT time last night. I really did. And, I'm glad that you invited me out again. You're really sweet, no shit. But the truth of the matter is that Juno and I have something we need to do instead. So, I was wondering if you could do me a BIG favor. Would you mind taking Cindy out tonight, instead?"




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 06



Cindy's eyes went wide. Raymond seemed clearly taken aback, but he turned again to Betty's friend, the maid, and he stared at her curiously before once again addressing Betty. "I don't get it. Why the elaborate story?"

"I have no secrets from my friends," she said, suddenly serious. "Cindy's the sweetest girl in the whole world. I know that she'd love to go out with you, but I want her to know the whole story before she does."

He regarded all three of them and finally broke out in a boyish smile. "Alright, I get it. Well, Betty, I hope you and Juno enjoy the evening together ... somehow I think you will. And Cindy, if you would consent to letting me escort you to dinner, I promise that there will be no ulterior motives involved. I'd really like to take you out. What do you say?""

"I ... um ..." She looked questioningly at Betty. " ... sure. I'd love to."

"I think that whole story is so amazing," Juno said, putting a hand on his arm. "I hope you find her someday."

"I'll let you guys know," he responded. He put out a hand to Cindy. "Shall we?" She let herself be led around the vehicle and settled into the passenger seat of the sports car, and she waved wonderingly at the other two as they sped off.

On the way to the restaurant, which was down south, out in the country, he talked about the weather, about the region, about the history of the places they passed, and on and on. He kept stealing little glances at her ... at her face, at her figure, at her legs, which were in a new pair of nylon stockings. He made her feel feminine, alluring, and she glowed in an almost permanent blush. Eventually, she began to loosen up a little and respond to his banter. And finally, they were talking and talking and talking. The restaurant was wonderful. EVERYTHING was wonderful, though there were awkward moments, like when he wanted to order wine and she pointed out that she didn't bring her purse along, so she had no ID. She didn't bother to mention that the ID would not have allowed her to have the wine, anyway. During the "makeover" that afternoon, her appearance had gone from 18 to 23 in 30 minutes flat.

Eventually, of course, the topic of conversation turned to books, though it was obvious that he was very reticent to do so, afraid that he would bore her. The result of this focus of discussion, however, left him astounded that a girl so shy and reserved would speak her mind so honestly. For example, Cindy espoused the belief that Slaughterhouse Five would eventually become known as one of the one hundred most important books ever written; but she also believed that Breakfast of Champions was a literary failure (simply too "cute," she said). Whether he manifestly supported her opinion or vehemently disagreed, he suddenly realized how starved he was for the mental opportunity to do either with any human being, much less someone he found intoxicatingly attractive. As the talk continued, they physically drew closer, leaning toward each other, resting a hand on each other's for emphasis.

She asked about his "collection," and he told her that he sought "pulp" books and magazines. When she professed her ignorance about this type of literature, he explained that cheap, literary magazines of the 1920's, 30's, 40's and 50's were made from 100% pulp paper, like newspapers and the old-style comic books. In 1939, when the "modern paperback" first appeared in the U.S., they also used cheap paper (and only charged 25-cents per book). A few companies, such as Gold Medal and Lion, printed "paperback originals;" in other words, first editions in paperback. He was flabbergasted to find that she was hanging on his every word. He talked about the importance of first editions to collectors, their condition, and their dust jackets.

"Dust jackets," she remarked, nodding. "Slip covers are for furniture."

And he froze. A long, full minute passed, during which she realized what she had said, and she lowered her gaze, blushing. At last, she stole a peek at him. He was pale, and he was shaking slightly. "I'm sorry," she said, honestly. "I ... I didn't mean to say that. Please ... can't we just keep talking? I would really like to keep talking to you. I wouldn't mind if we kept talking ... forever."

"It was you," he said breathlessly. "You were there. You're the girl in the library."

"Yes," she said in a voice so slight that he almost couldn't hear. And then, slowly, the expression on his face changed ... changed to display the worst possible emotions he could have, in her opinion. Happiness, joy, contentment, longing and love all shone in his eyes. And a tear slid from hers. "Oh, Raymond," she told him in a hushed tone, "can't you see what type of girl I am? Can't you see that this is one of those books you start reading, and you know, instinctively, that it can't possibly have a happy ending?"

He barked a laugh. "And yet, we keep on reading, don't we? Some books, you simply can't put down. And I don't CARE what 'type' of girl you are. We are human. We fall in love first and then spend the rest of our lives adapting to 'types.' But we do adapt. And I do love that girl I held in my arms that night. And if you are that girl, then there's nothing you can say that would make me believe that you aren't in love with me, too. And I also refuse to believe that our ending won't be happy until we finish writing the story ourselves."

She was really crying now. "Oh, please. Please take me out of here. Take me somewhere and ... and let me hold you again. Just for a little while. Please."

She let him help her out of her chair; and she let him lead her out to the car; and she sat silently in the passenger seat, trying to control her tears; and she watched as he pulled into the first motel they came to; and she stood silently beside him while he paid cash to the man at the front desk and listened to him make snide remarks, like: "Can I help you with your luggage, folks?" and "We have a free breakfast down here in the lobby from six to nine-thirty;" and she leaned into him as he put his arm around her and led her to the elevator and down the hall and into the plain room. But then she was lost in a world where there was just the two of them. He held her, crushing her in his arms, and the kiss went on and on and on and on. She let her body collapse into his, clung to him with what little strength she could muster, and felt the room whirl around them. His lips were at her neck now, his hands at her back, unzipping the new dress, while she kept her arms wrapped around his neck, allowing him access to whatever part of her he wanted.

She toed out of the heels as the flimsy dress slid down her body and pooled at her feet. His hand seemed to only stroke her back, and the bra miraculously snapped free of her. She allowed him to push her body back away from his, let his gaze rake her breasts and nipples, and she blushed demurely as he muttered to himself: "Perfect. Just perfect." This was the first time she had worn nylons stocking and a garter belt in her life, but fortunately, he seemed to have had at least some experience with them, for he made short work of the task, and she lounged back on the bed, completely naked, waiting for him as he disrobed, exactly as it had happened during their last encounter two nights before.

They kissed again, like the two thirsty lovers they were, drinking from the tender contact, but their desire never quenched. His hands were all over her, and hers responded, grasping him, stroking him, releasing her hold on his cock only to fill her hand with his balls. He groaned into her mouth and responded by finding and fondling her clitoris, pinching it lightly, pulling on it.

"Oh, please," she begged. "Don't make me cum yet! I'm ready for you! Please?"

"You sure are," he told her, kissing her again and then grinning down at her. "You're soaking down there."

She blushed. "I can't help it. You make me feel so powerless!"

He positioned himself between her legs while she reached down again, grasped his cock and guided it to its target. Then she reached back up and put both arms around his neck. The tip of his cock was in, but he didn't push down into her, and with a whine, she began straining her hips upward. "Please! Don't make me wait anymore!" And he began pushing into her, slowly, slowly. She gasped loudly and began to shiver. "Oh, Raymond, I hope I'm the girl you want me to be," she said in a little-girl voice.

"But you know you are, don't you?" he moaned, pushing further in. Further yet. And finally, finally, they were pressed together ... firmly together, touching from head to toe. "You're the one, Cindy. We fit. Do you feel it? You do, don't you?"

One of her hands was in his hair, "Oh, Raymond. Oh ...."

He began his rhythmic strokes now, and, sensing that she wanted him to take her hard, he made his downward thrusts powerful, harsh, almost violent. Immediately, her legs came up and encircled his hips, pulling him into her with all her might. "OH!" she cried after each crushing assault. "OH! OH! OH! OH!" and eventually her exclamations went up in pitch and volume, until the dam burst and the orgasm flooded her body. He was right behind her, and with a shout, he slammed fully into her body, crushed her to himself with his strong arms, and his cock lurched and pulsed inside her. 

Long, long minutes later, resting on their sides but still clutching each other, his cock still impaling her, they both sighed, their desperate embrace easing as their bodies nestled together. "Would you really have done that to every girl in the city until you found me?" she asked him.

"A horrible sacrifice, I know; but even THAT would have been worth it to find my one true love," he said, seriously. Then both their faces split into smiles, and they laughed.

"Where will we go on our honeymoon?" he asked her, abstractedly. And she was silent for a long minute before he realized that she was crying again. "Hey, Cindy, what is it? Whatever it is, we can work it out. I promise you."

"I belong to someone else," she said sadly, quietly.

"You're married?"

"No, no. I mean I REALLY belong to someone else. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I am a slave. I can't leave. I don't think I could EVER leave. Deep down inside, as much as I love you, I don't think I WANT to leave! It's SO confusing ... I don't suppose I could ever really explain it to you ... not so you'd understand. Can't we just hold each other tonight and pretend? Can't we have each other, just for tonight and ...?"

"No," he said simply, silencing her. He untangled their bodies, finally letting his half-engorged cock slip from its new home inside her, and he propped his head up using two of the pillows; then he gathered her back into his arms, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. Instinctively, she threw her arm across his chest and her leg over his lower body and hugged herself to him. "Now," he said calmly, idly stroking her bare back. "You enjoy being a slave, is that it?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Well, at the moment, you are mine. I will not let you go until you tell me whatever strange story it is that you have to tell. This is my very first command to you ... one that you MUST obey. Tell me, Cindy. Tell me now."

And she did. 

From first to last; from the moment she had set foot in the mansion until this day with him, she told him. She left nothing out. Each character in the drama was described in exacting detail, each encounter, each desire, each demand, each response, each act of surrender, each emotion. He broke into the tale frequently, asking questions ... which she answered immediately and honestly, holding nothing back. The only long interruption came when he asked her if either Pablo or her "Daddy" had ever done it "with her on top;" and when she had answered both in the negative and with inquisitive wonder about how such a thing was supposed to work, he scooped her body atop his, had her sit up, straddling him, and demanded that he provide a demonstration. Perhaps this explanatory exhibition would not have taken so long if he hadn't been so insistent on showing her what he could do with his hands in this position, rolling her nipples between thumbs and forefingers, then sliding one hand down between them and rubbing her clit as she pumped herself up and down on his hard, unyielding shaft, causing her to arch and strain and shiver and moan and quake and cum and cum and cum; which sparked his own rather animated orgasm. This, of course, led to another period of recuperation ... but finally the story continued. Counting the aforementioned questions and demonstration, it continued for three hours.

In the end, he had to admit that Cindy had become so hypnotically, emotionally and physically entangled with this crazy household's occupants, that indeed, she may NOT be able to break away from them, and he resolved (to himself) that any attempt to wrest her away would have to start with Stepmother herself. Without her consent, he felt, Cindy would never be his. Exhausted, they arose, dressed and left (despite having to miss the free breakfast in the lobby). Fortunately, the front door of the mansion had been left unlocked. Cindy passionately kissed him goodbye, went upstairs and she finally crawled into bed a little after three o'clock.

For the rest of her life, she would never forget the next day. Still arising at six-thirty, she set about her normal routine. The change in that schedule came at about noon, when Stepmother insisted that Cindy wash and dry all the bedspreads and sheets in the UNOCCUPIED bedrooms upstairs, and that she PRESS the sheets! She stripped all the beds at once, made six trips down to the laundry room, and started the task. It would take hours, she knew, resulting in her missing her exercise and "mental conditioning" periods. It further surprised her when Pablo brought her dinner on a tray, so that she could continue, uninterrupted. Finally, long after dark, Cindy had brought the clean, wrinkle-free items back upstairs and had just finishing replacing them on their original beds, when Stepmother called her into her office.

"Cindy, I have some news that you might find a little unsettling. Please sit down, my dear." Nervously, she did so. "I know from various conversations I've had today that you've become acquainted with that fine young man who took Betty out on a date the other night," the woman continued. "Now dear, please don't get excited, but I just got a call from Betty. She and the gentleman ... Raymond, I believe his name is ... went to Las Vegas this afternoon and got married."

Cindy blinked. "Married?" she asked quietly.

"Yes dear. I realize that you and he had been ... um ... intimate during the party I asked you to attend. And I know that it's very, very easy to form ... an attachment with a boy under those circumstances, and I feel horribly responsible, in a way. But you see, that had been my design from the beginning ... to get a wealthy young man interested in Betty; someone who could support her in the style I'd like her to live ... someone that could be ... well ... manipulated, I guess you could say. So, you see, this worked out EXACTLY as I had envisioned it. But, my dear Cindy, I NEVER wanted to hurt you. I'm so sorry if it has."

Cindy blinked again. "What about Juno?" she asked, feeling dull and puzzled.

"Juno? You mean the girl I met in the hall the other night? I'm sure I don't know ANYTHING about her. You'll have to ask Betty, when she comes back after the honeymoon."

"Honeymoon," Cindy echoed. She swallowed and took a deep breath. "I'm just the maid," she muttered.

"Exactly," Stepmother said, nodding. "I'm so pleased that you appreciate the hierarchy of modern society and your place in it. I just KNEW that you'd understand." The woman stood up. Cindy looked at her for a moment, and did the same, and then allowed herself to be led to the office door. "Now, look at me please, dear ... yes, right into my eyes ... just like that. You are VERY tired, aren't you, Cindy?"

Cindy sagged. Her thoughts seemed muddled and uncertain. "Tired."

"Yes, dear. Now, go to your room, please. Just go right to bed. As soon as you lie down, you will see your metronome in your mind. Off you go, now."

Dazed, Cindy did exactly as she was told. She stripped out of her clothing and stretched out under her blankets, knowing that she should have a lot to think about, but she was too sleepy to do so, and anyway, the metronome was clacking in her head. It seemed only a few minutes later that her alarm was sounding. 

In the shower the next morning, she started to cry. She cried as she dressed, and halfway down the stairs, on her way to breakfast, she suddenly decided that she wasn't hungry; so she sat down on the steps, buried her face in her hands, and she cried some more. She was alright for most of the morning, and actually took a level of pride in the fact that she finished the daily bathroom chores without shedding a single tear. But something happened during lunch, and she left her food untouched and raced to her next chore, sobbing. She realized that she could handle things if she simply kept working, concentrating only on the task at hand, never wavering. And so, she worked through her "conditioning" period ... Stepmother said she was busy, anyway ... and when it was time to exercise, she rushed to get dressed, then set her machines at a higher level, almost reveling in the pain from her screaming muscles, refusing to stop even once, though her lungs were threatening to burst. During her crunches and other calisthenics, she counted loudly, blotting out any thoughts. But, alas, in the shower, there was little to distract her, and so she found herself sitting on the cold tile floor, letting the hot water wash over her nakedness, crying, crying.

For the first time, she changed her schedule without approval from Stepmother, and she worked at cleaning the downstairs hallways and foyer, skipping dinner, as well. Pablo approached with a tray of food, but she refused. He, however, simply would not leave her side until she had consumed something, so she took a bite of the sandwich and told him to be gone. Not enough, he argued, and again stood firm. They squabbled for awhile, and in the end, she ate about half the meal before he finally, finally left her alone. About ten o'clock, Stepmother herself came to her, but seemingly only to comment on how tired she looked. At that point, however, Cindy was consumed with an almost overpowering drowsiness, and it was all she could do to stagger up to her room, strip, and crawl into bed.

The next day started out to be a repeat of the one before. Cindy alternately cried and worked, but finally began to justify occurrences in her mind. She would ALWAYS be a slave, a maid, and a girl whose body was meant to comfort men in need. She would NEVER be free, or independent, or self-sufficient, and she would NEVER deserve the happiness reserved for those who were. She should try to find comfort in these truths. But then, of course, she would start crying again.

She reported for her mental conditioning period at the appropriate time, but instead of placing her immediately in a trance, Stepmother wanted to talk. Cindy was almost desperate for the peaceful oblivion of hypnosis, but tried to give the woman her full attention. And what she had to say was yet another harsh shock. "Cindy, I'm going to be leaving on a long trip soon. I'm going to be leaving you in charge of the house and all its affairs."

"In charge?!" Cindy gasped. "I am a SLAVE! I can't be in CHARGE of ANYTHING!"

"You are a slave, and you will damn-well do as you're told," Stepmother said firmly, but without a trace of anger. She saw a myriad of emotions crowd into Cindy's expression. "Don't worry, my dear, I wouldn't be making you do this if I wasn't certain ... beyond any doubt ... that you could handle the assignment. I will spend the next few days explaining exactly what things you have to do, when you have to do them, and how they will be accomplished. I will be available by phone and email. We will even have a daily video conference via computer, and I can hypnotize you for brief periods then. You WILL do this, Cindy. You will NOT argue."




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 06



Cindy took a ragged breath. "Yes, Stepmother."

The phone rang. Stepmother answered, listened intently, muttered a few "yes's" and "I see's," hung up, told Cindy to remain there for a moment, and she hurried out of the room. At least now, Cindy had SOMETHING else to keep her gloomier thoughts from overwhelming her. Could she actually run the mansion administratively, AND keep the place clean, AND put two hours a day into exercising, AND keep two men satisfied sexually?

Stepmother came rushing back into the room. "Oh dear," the woman sputtered. "Pablo is out somewhere doing Lord-knows-what, and someone just pulled up in the driveway. Go down and see who it is, won't you Cindy?"

The girl rose immediately and ran out and down the stairs. At least, thanks to this most recent distraction, she was dry-eyed for the visitors. Just as she was crossing the foyer, the door burst open and Betty came in, carrying a shopping bag in each hand; but upon seeing Cindy there, she abruptly dropped them both and ran forward, throwing her arms around her.

"Happy Birthday, baby sister!" she screamed, hugging her tightly.

Cindy blinked. "What?"

"Don't you know what day it is, you ninny? It's your birthday!"

"I ... I thought you were on your honeymoon," Cindy stuttered.

"Well, yes, I was. But I'm not going to let something like a marriage keep me away from my best-friend-sister's 18th birthday party! Oh ... and here comes your present!"

Raymond walked in carrying two suitcases. "Where do you want these ... honeybunch?" he asked Betty.

"Oh, just drop them anywhere, sweety-bumpinks," Betty responded. "And can you go get the others, please?"

"Mind if I take a little break first, rose-blossom?" he asked her, staring openly at Cindy.

"Oh, very well, light-of-my-life," she grinned. "But please, make it snappy."

Raymond took two long strides to them, pried Cindy out of Betty's arms, engulfed her in his own, and he kissed her. He kissed her hard. He kissed her for a long, long time. "Oh, God, Cindy, I missed you," he said, looking steadily into her eyes.

"I don't understand what's happening," she told him, suddenly cognizant that without his arms around her, she would have collapsed. Slowly, she struggled to get her feet back under her.

He released her. "Well, THAT'S an understatement," he told her. "I don't think ANYBODY could understand this setup. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get sugarplum's other suitcases." And he turned and left. He smiled and made a little wave as Juno passed him and came to stand beside Betty.

"You took your lesbian lover on your honeymoon?" Cindy gasped.

"Well, shit yes! What the fuck ELSE was I suppose to do out there?" Betty turned to Juno. "Show her what we did while we were in Los Angeles!" she ordered.

"Oh, Betty, please, no," Juno pleaded.

Betty looked at her, kissed her on the tip of her nose, and said: "You are my sex slave, right?"

Juno's face turned dusky. "Yes, Betty. I'm your sex slave."

"Well then, do as I say. Show my best friend what we did in Los Angeles."

Juno breathed raggedly, then reached down with both hands, grasped the hem of her blouse, and pulled it up to her chin. Juno's breasts, slim, firm and proud were capped by long, thick, fat nipples; and each of those nipples sported a round gold wire ring, piercing it and hanging below it, alluring, erotic, enticing.

"Oh, my," Cindy exclaimed, unable to take her eyes off the sight.

"You should have SEEN Raymond when he saw that!" Betty laughed. "I think he is going to INSIST that you do it, too! And if he doesn't make you, I will!"

"BETTY!" Cindy yelled ... and at last, her stepsister paused and looked at her silently, curiously. "Betty, what is going ON here? I thought you MARRIED him! I thought you were on your honeymoon! Why is everybody acting so INSANE?!"

Betty blinked at her, realization slowly dawning. "OH! MY! GOD! Mom didn't tell you, did she? You've been sitting here for three days, NOT KNOWING!" She put a shaking hand to her head. "You must have been thinking horrible, awful, terrible things about me! Oh, gosh, Cindy ... you've been crying, haven't you? I can see the circles under your eyes! And you look gaunt! Have you been eating?" She spun on her heel and marched toward the stairs. "MOM!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Blinking, Cindy followed her. Juno, looking stunned, stood there and slowly lowered the hem of her blouse again.

They marched into Stepmother's office. The woman was sitting calmly, waiting for them. "You didn't TELL her!" Betty accused.

"No."

"Why the fuck not? I can't IMAGINE what she's been going through!"

"Cindy has never experienced loss," Stepmother said calmly.

Betty looked completely taken aback. "What?"

"The girl has never lost anything, because for her entire lifetime, she's never OWNED anything. She never HAD anything TO lose, don't you see? YOU have loved, and YOU have lost. You have owned something dear to you and lost it. But Cindy never has. And now, she knows. Now, she knows defeat ... and now, for the rest of her life, victory will be that much sweeter. Now, she has lost a love; and now, possessing that love will be even richer, even more fulfilling and satisfying. Now, she knows."

Betty sighed and gave her an exasperated look. "You hurt my best friend. Don't think that I'm ever going to forgive you for that. Tell her. Tell her now!"

"Of course, dear." The woman turned toward Cindy. "My dear, your swain, Raymond, came to me and asked me to release you to him. I refused. Then, to my utter amazement, instead of threatening me or bargaining with me, he offered to pay me every penny he had in the whole world in exchange for your hand. At that moment, I had a brainstorm. I didn't want his money ... I didn't NEED his money. What I wanted was security and respectability for my DAUGHTER. And so, I again turned him down flat. He was a most-dejected fellow, I must admit. I told him that I wanted more. 'I don't HAVE any more,' he wailed. 'I've offered you all I have!' But no, I told him, he DID have more. In fact, the girl he was so desperately courting had given up MUCH more than he was offering. And he -- smart boy, your Raymond -- seemed to understand immediately. 'Very well,' said he, 'I will give you my wealth, my freedom ... and my free will, if that is what you demand. I will share her with the other men here. I will GIVE anything and DO anything if I can just be part of her life.' I must admit, I don't think I've ever encountered a man quite as smitten with anybody as he is with you."

Cindy staggered to a chair and sat down. "What ... what did you DO to him?"

"I hypnotized him, of course. He went right along with it. All he asked was that I give him my word that I would let him be near you ... be with you. I gave him my promise; and he simply ... gave up. He went right under, just as soon as I began my induction. Then, he went DEEP! Just as deep as you go, my dear. He merely surrendered himself ... surrendered his free will, completely and without reservation. I woke him up, put him back under, over and over, deepening, strengthening my control over him. And when I was thoroughly convinced that he was completely in my power, I summoned Betty and laid out my plan. We would go out and get a pre-nup done immediately ... one that would give her everything in the event of a divorce. You, of course, were busy with the sheets in the basement. That evening, they would fly to Las Vegas and get married. She would have her security, she would have her money, she would have her respectability, and she could then go out and do whatever she damn-well pleased for the rest of her life. She agreed, much to my amazement. I don't know how they wound up in Los Angeles, though." 

"Thank you, Mom," Betty said, walking over to Cindy and hoisting her stunned friend out of the chair. "But next time, whatever your motives, keep your promise to ME and tell her! Don't you EVER hurt my sister again, got it?"

"Yes, dear. I AM sorry. Oh, and Betty ... I've gotten the tickets to Paris! The four of us leave next Tuesday."

"Great, Mom. Cindy and I need to talk. See you around." She led her friend out of the office, down the hall and into her room. Once there, she closed the door and pulled her to the bed, both of them instinctively plopping down on it the way they had so many times before during the previous months.

"Mom wants Juno and me to go France with her and her girlfriend ..."

"GIRLFRIEND?" Cindy squealed. 

"Well, sure, haven't you figured THAT one out yet? Why do you think she avoids the old man so much? She hates sex with ALL guy! And I was right ... she's been seeing this lady friend of hers for almost fifteen years now. Some housewife up in Jeffersonville. But now, I guess her kids are all grown up and gone, so she's getting a divorce from her creepy husband and she's going to start spending a LOT more time with Mom. Wouldn't surprise me in the least if she moved in here. Hell, why not? Everybody else has.

"But, listen, Cindy, let me tell you what's REALLY going on around here. No secrets, I promise. I went along with Mom's twisted, nefarious scheme for two reasons. Number one, I was afraid that if I didn't strike SOME sort of compromise with her, she'd be trying this kind of shit with me for the rest of my life. Anyway, I kind of like Raymond myself ... a real gentleman, like I said before. He's witty, and he's sharp and he's fun to be around. I think we really like each other, despite all the weirdness. That's why we play at all the 'sweety-pie' stuff. It's fun. 

"But Cindy, I give you my WORD, I'll never come between you and your man. You KNOW what my word is worth ... don't you? After that first time, I never kissed you again, now did I? I felt like it a few times, I'll confess, but my word is my bond. However ... I MAY ask you to let me break that promise just once ... or twice. I ...." Betty paused, trying to work up the courage to put her thoughts into words. "In two or three years, I want Raymond to be the father of my child, when I think the time is right. AND of Juno's children. And yours, of course. I want them all to be REAL siblings ... or half-siblings at least. But we won't do ANYTHING without your consent, I promise.

"And number two, now that we're all legal and everything ... now that all the documents have been signed ... now that he's MINE; well, Mom isn't the one pulling his strings anymore. He'll live here with us ... he'll be part of our family ... but I'm going to give him the freedom to do whatever the hell it is that he likes to do. We went to LA yesterday so he could go to some Vintage Paperback Book Show in Mission Hills. He mailed back twenty boxes filled with books and some sort of weird magazines. Also, I am only going to ask him for the money that Juno and I need to have a little fun every now and then ... he can use all he wants to buy his books, or whatever. And I told Mom that he's going to get one of the big ballrooms downstairs to turn into his own library. Whatever he needs ... whatever he wants. And, that means YOU, baby sister. I made Mom agree. When he wants you, he'll have you. If he wants you in his bed all night, then, by God, he's going to get you! Period."

Cindy was crying again. "She was right, Betty," she said at last. "I don't think that I'll EVER take him for granted ... not for as long as I live. When I thought I'd lost him ... I thought that I'd died. And a part of me had, I think. Now ... Oh, gosh, Betty!" And she flung herself into Betty's arms and held her.

"Happy birthday, little sis," her friend whispered in her ear.

Back downstairs, Cindy found Raymond in one of the big ballrooms, and threw her arms around his neck. He picked her up and spun her around, squeezing her, laughing with her. "You had no right to do that for me!" she scolded. 

"I'd have done more for you, if she'd demanded it," he told her seriously. "I love you, Cindy." He kissed her again. Then he knelt at her feet, pulled up the hem of her skirt, and pulled down her panties.

"What do you think you're doing?" Cindy laughed.

"I've been on my honeymoon for three days without you, and I'm horny as hell!" he exclaimed, pulling the panties down to her to her ankles. He stood back up, grabbed her around the waist, picked her up and sat her on the edge of one of the big conference tables. 

She issued a little laughing shriek as he did so. "Somebody is going to see us in here!" she squealed.

"We're just in here having a pleasant conversation," he told her, stepping back a little so that he could unzip his trousers. He undid his belt, unfastened his pants, and shoved them, along with his underwear, down to his knees, then he stepped forward again. Cindy just naturally spread her knees apart for him. "You're wet," he commented, lifting her skirt and feeling with probing fingers between her legs.

"After that kiss you gave me in the foyer, I'm surprised I'm not leaving a trail," she said, breathing hard.

"So, you see," he continued, matter-of factly, "this room is going to house my collection. I'm going to arrange it in stacks ... double-sided bookcases ... over there. Ungh!" He shoved forward.

"OH MY, Raymond!" she gasped. She put her arms around his neck and clung to him. "You're so BIG! You're so DEEP!"

"My pulp magazines are going to go over there. Ungh! Ungh! Computers and scanners over here. Ungh!"

"Oh! Oh my! Oh!" She raised her legs and locked her feet behind him, urging him on. Her panties dangled from one ankle.

"Ungh! I'm part-way through writing a book for collectors now. Ungh! Ungh! I'm going to start a blog and an online reference site. Ungh!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!"

"Hey guys!" Juno cried happily. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you!" She advanced toward them. "Am I interrupting anything? I just wanted to talk to Cindy about ...." She rounded the corner of the table and came to an abrupt stop. "OH! I ... uh ... I guess I AM interrupt ... Holy cow!" She stood, hands at her sides, mouth slightly agape, staring with wide eyes at the pair.

'Ungh! Ungh!" Raymond gasped frantically. "Cindy will be ... Ungh! ... with you in ... Ungh! ... just a minute. Ungh!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh my! Raymond! Oh! It's coming! Oh! It's coming now! OH! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!"

"Arrrgh!" Raymond bellowed. They clutched at each other frantically, their bodies arching into one another's, fused together. His lips were at her throat, her fingers in his hair. They strained and shook and gasped and shivered and clutched. Eventually, taught muscles relaxed, breathing slowed, dilated eyes focused once again. 

Cindy glanced over toward Juno, who continued to stand in intense frozen amazement, and then she took a deep breath and looked back at the man in her arms. "Well, Raymond, thank you for explaining all that to me. I guess I'll go ... um ... see what Juno wants now."

He took a last ragged breath. "Great idea. I'll just help you down off this table. Here you go." He lifted her off and onto her feet. Great talking to you. I'll see you tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes. I intend to take you to bed with me and fuck you non-stop until sunrise."

"Oh. Well, until then ...." She gave him a smile and a little kiss and turned expectantly to Juno.

The girl seemed to suddenly come alive. "Oh, Cindy ... I'm really sorry about ... I mean ... I should have left and ... I just didn't seem to be able to ...."

Cindy laughed. "Relax, Juno. We were just saying hello. Did you want to speak with me about something? I was about to go upstairs to talk to Stepmother." Juno pointed uncertainly down toward one of Cindy's feet, where her panties remained around one of her ankles. "Oh, right." Cindy stooped and plucked the garment from her foot, stuffed it into the pocket of her skirt and walked toward the door of the ballroom. "Would you mind if we walked while we talked?"

Juno fell into step alongside her. "Does she hypnotize you?"

"Stepmother? Oh, yes ... yes, she does ... almost every day."

"What's it like?" the girl asked her quietly.

"I think it's wonderful. Stepmother says I'm psychologically addicted to it. I'm sure she's right. I really miss it when we skip a day. Why do you ask?"

"Does she control you? Are you her slave because of it?"

"Yes. She told me once that she has no control over those who resist her ... but I don't resist her, you see. I've surrendered to her. So, yes, I'm her slave." They were walking up the stairs now, but Cindy stopped and turned to her. "Do you want to be a hypnotic slave, Juno?"

"I ... yes, I think I do. The whole concept makes me feel ... all quivery inside. Betty is SO dominant, and I LOVE that! I've told her that I'm her sex slave ... that I'll do ANYTHING for her. But when I look at you .... I don't know, maybe I'm just envious. The idea of surrendering emotionally AND mentally ... oh, I think that would be so ... wonderful!" The girl paused and took a breath. "Should I ask her? Betty's mother, I mean. I'm a little afraid that she'd interfere with Betty's and my relationship ... but she might also make it SO much more ... profound. What do you think?"

"I think that you're just like me. I think that if you submitted to her ... even once ... you would be giving in to an entire lifetime of emotional slavery. There would be no turning back. And as for her interfering, well ... tell HER about your concerns. And, I'm willing to bet that she won't interfere at all. She values her daughter's happiness above all else, so I think you can trust her, as far as that."

"We're all going away together next week ... to Paris ... Betty and me in one apartment, and her mother and her ... friend in another."

"Yes, I know."

The slender girl was quiet for a spell. "I took my last paycheck and bought Betty a bunch of English-language classes at one of the Parisian Art Schools. Do you think she'll be surprised?"

"I think that's a tremendous idea! She's going to LOVE it!"

Juno sighed, and then smiled at her companion. "You and I are going to be great friends, aren't we?" She asked softly.

Cindy grinned and tucked her arm inside Juno's. "I think we already are," she answered, and they continued up the stairs together.

Before they could turn toward Stepmother's office, however, she heard hammering from the other wing, and went to see what it was. Pablo was in Cindy's room with some sort of oak furniture kit, putting it together. She asked him what he was doing, but he only smiled at her and told her to go ask the "señora." Curious, they turned toward Stepmother's office door and after knocking gently, the woman bade them enter. 

"Hello, ladies. What can I do for you?"

Juno breathed a ragged breath. "I want you to hypnotize me, please, Stepmother."

The woman sat back and allowed a small twinkle to light her eyes. She smiled gently. "And why do you want me to do that, dear?"

The girl took Cindy's arm in her hands and held it. "I want you to make me just like Cindy. Betty loves her ... EVERYBODY loves her!" She took another breath. "I think I love her, too."

Stepmother's small smile grew. "You realize that this is going to be forever, don't you?"

Juno shivered. "Yes, Stepmother," she said, looking submissively downward. "But ... I ... if Betty ...."

"I promise you that I will not alter your relationship with my daughter, dear. But ... you can never imagine the levels of submissiveness into which you are about to plunge. Are you certain that this is what you want?" She paused while Juno nodded silently. "Very well then. Go out into the adjoining room and locate a pyramid-shaped wooden box. It contains a metronome, which I will use to enslave you. Hold it on your lap while you sit and wait for my summons. Please close the door on your way out."

Juno gave Cindy's arm a gentle squeeze, and she left.




Hypnotic Adventures of Cinderella Ch. 06



"Suddenly, I'm EVERYBODY'S stepmother," the woman muttered.

"Stepmother, what is Pablo doing in my room?" Cindy asked now that they were alone.

"He's putting together a bookcase," was the reply. "Four feet wide ... eight shelves. Have you ever heard of a 'book fair,' Cindy?"

"No."

"Well, it's a truly American invention, thanks to our tax codes. Charitable organizations ask people in the community to donate their old books. Then, they sell them all at a huge discount. There's one at the fairgrounds tomorrow ... more than half a million books, they say. Most hardback books will sell for a dollar ... paperbacks for fifty cents. It's all tax-free, since it's for a charity. Anyway, my dear little slave, I've decided that you can go, and you can buy all the books you want, as long as they fit on the shelves of your bookcase. I will give Pablo the money. I'm sure Raymond will want to go, as well. If you get too many, then you have to immediately donate back whatever doesn't fit on your bookshelves, so I advise you to take a ruler or something. Next year, you can donate all the books you want, and then go to the next annual book fair and fill it up again. Whatever books are on your shelves are yours to keep." The woman reached into one of the drawers in the desk and took something out. "And here," she said, holding it up. "You can start with this one." It was the Little Golden Book ... Cinderella.

With a cry, Cindy ran around the desk to her, startling the woman somewhat, and she fell on her knees and put her head on her mistress's lap. "Oh, Stepmother!" she cried tearfully. "Thank you. Thank you SO much ... for everything!"

Stepmother smiled and stroked the girl's hair. "Ah, my little Cindy, you have NO idea what you've done for me ... what you've done for my family. Before you came here, I was at my wit's end. I won't even tell you what horrible, awful things I was considering. I didn't want to share my husband's bed ... but I didn't want to leave the comfort of his home, either. And, then you came, and you let me resolve all of my problems through YOU! My husband, my daughter ... even the the butler! You've been a Godsend, my dear."

Cindy kept her cheek on the woman's knee, smiling contentedly. "Four days ago, I didn't know how my story could possibly have a happy ending," she said. "I didn't want to leave Raymond ... and I didn't want to leave Daddy ... or Pablo ... or Betty. And I knew that I COULDN'T leave you. There was no answer ... but you found one, anyway." She sighed. "You aren't really my Stepmother." 

"I'm not?"

"You're my Fairy Godmother!"



Hypnotic Blunder



I attended one of those hypnosis shows where a hypnotist takes people from the audience and hypnotizes them. Of course, I was skeptical. I figured the people were plants and the whole thing was a ruse. C'mon, seriously, you can't control someone's mind by having them look you in the eye, while dangling a shiny object.

Much like professional wrestling, there for just the entertainment value, I thought it was all just fake. For those of you who like wrestling, as I do, even though it's not as real as a boxing match, these wrestlers are still well trained athletes and have to be in good condition to take the abuse they dish out and receive. My hat is off to them, fake or not.

Anyway, I never really believed that someone could hypnotize a person to make them do something that they wouldn't ordinarily do, such as get naked and perform a sex act. You get where I'm going with this, don't you? I mean, wouldn't it be cool to hypnotize women you know, you've always wanted to be intimate with, and have your way with them just by saying a word, their hypnotic suggestive word. Imagine the wonderful possibilities, if hypnotism is real.

So, I went to the library and took out every book they had on the subject. They didn't have much, but it was a start. The librarian gave me an odd stare, making me feel that she could read my dirty mind and knew my intentions in learning hypnosis wasn't honorable.

"Research. I'm doing a school paper," I said to satisfy her curiosity, while wanting to stick my tongue out at her.

To be honest, I wouldn't mind hypnotizing her into giving me a blowjob, she was cute and had a decent body.

Over the next few weeks, I learned from reading about hypnosis that it depends on the person. Some people can't be hypnotized and others are more susceptible to suggestive thought and their minds can be more easily controlled. I bought a couple more books at the book store and read more information on the subject. I discovered that psychologists and psychiatrists use hypnosis as part of their therapy. Did you know that? I didn't know that.

Psychiatrists, except for dentists, are the craziest group of people on the planet, bar none, I wondered if they took advantage of women who were under their spell. C'mon, they're human. If a good looking woman was lying on their couch wearing a short skirt and/or a low cut top, wouldn't you have a peek what's underneath knowing she'd never know? I would.

What's to stop them from giving them a suggestive word and having sex with their patient? Yeah, I know it's against their ethics and they could lose their license to practice, but we're talking about having real power and control over someone. Wow.

By the way, pardon the aside, but why do they call it practice when these doctors are treating you? They're highly trained professionals. Don't they know what they're doing that they must refer to what they do as practice? It makes me more than a bit nervous that my doctor is practicing on me. 

Much like an auto mechanic who practically disassembles your entire car to find the real problem, a worn $2.00 gasket. By trial and error, they rule out one thing before continuing to the next. Surely, with all these diagnostic machines and equipment, by now, there must be a better way than the process of trial and error. Shouldn't these psychiatrists, psychologists, and all doctors, as well as auto mechanics be skilled and knowledgeable enough at their professions that they don't have to practice anymore? They should be able to heal thy mind, thy body, and thy car without having you to go through all the practice attempts.. Sorry, I digress.

If nothing else, it was fun imagining all the women that I could take advantage of by the power of suggestion. I was eager to see if I could hypnotize someone, but I needed a victim, er, I mean, a volunteer, but who?

I thought of hypnotizing my sister, certainly that would make for a good story on this site but, if I was successful putting her under my spell, what would I do with her then? Sorry, but I'm not into having sex with my sister. I can't go there, it's just wrong. Besides, you should see my sister, she's not so hot.

I do have some hot cousins that I'd like to see naked, but that would be a bit depraved, perverted actually, on my part, don't you think? Okay, maybe I'm asking the wrong person by asking you, but sex with a cousin is still incestuous sex. You'd probably love to read a story where I not only hypnotize my sister and my cousin but also have sex with them.

I could hypnotize my mother or my Mom's sister, my aunt, but that's really getting into incest and I'm not into that. Although I know how popular mother and son stories are on this site and how arousing it is to imagine my aunt naked, I just couldn't go there. Sorry.

With no one to hypnotize, I returned the books I borrowed from the library and stopped off at Starbucks to get a coffee. I was sitting there dangling my keychain trying to think of who I could try to hypnotize. I was eager to see if I could really do it. I think that I could. I mean, from all that I read, it sounded plausible.

"Hey, aren't you in my English Lit class?"

I looked up and there was a girl who sat beside me, Gloria, I think her name was. She was a pretty brunette. She has a rack.

"Yeah, hi," I said looking up at her and concentrating on moving my gaze from her breasts to her eyes. "I'm Joe."

"Hi Joe. I'm Gloria and this is my friend, Julie," she said introducing me to the very pretty girl with her, a thin blonde with small tits.

"Hi," I said giving her half a smile.

"Why the long face," asked Gloria.

"Oh, I went to one of those hypnotism shows and ever since I been reading books on hypnosis. I wanted to see if it really works, only I don't have anyone to try it out on."

"You can try it on me," said Gloria with a shrug. "I've been trying to quit smoking. Maybe we can help out each other. You can use me to see if you can put me under your spell and I can finally get away from those terrible and too costly cancer sticks."

"Can I try, too," chimed in Julie. "I've been trying to diet. Chocolate is my weakness. If you could give me hypnotic suggestion not to eat chocolate, I'd be forever grateful."

Diet? The girl was a walking bone, a coat hanger. By the looks of her, maybe she's a model.

"You don't look like you need to lose any weight," I said threading on dangerous ground when discussing weight issues with a woman.

"Yeah, well, tell that to my modeling agency. They want me to lose 5 pounds before the summer to model swimwear."

"Sure why not," I said getting up. "Let's do it."

Damn, if nothing else, even if I don't hypnotize anyone, I picked up two hot chicks by just telling them about hypnotism. I'm going to try this Saturday night at the bar. I suddenly imagined hot women coming up to me and asking me what's wrong.

"Why the long face, handsome?"

"Oh, I've been reading up on hypnotism and wanted to try it out, but I don't have a volunteer," I imagined saying to a hot woman.

"You can try it out on me, sugar," I imagined her replying. "I'm a sex addict and I've been trying to stop."

"A sex addict? You are? Well, you know, it's not good to stop cold turkey," I imagined saying to her. "We can have sex first, before I give you the hypnotic suggestion to make you stop."

"Okay," I imagine her saying.

Wow. I think I'm going to like this hypnotism. With this whole scenario running through my mind in a nanosecond, I was returned back to Starbucks with Gloria's invitation.

"We can go to my place," said Gloria. "I only live a block away."

Gloria had a small studio, but it was on the top floor of a 4 story walkup. Being one story above most of the other houses in the neighborhood, it was private enough. Both women were wearing short denim skirts and scalloped blouses, the kind of blouse that opens and gives you a nice down blouse view of their bra and cleavage, whenever they lean forward.

Gloria had put out some dip and crackers and both she and Julie were leaning forward to dip their crackers giving me a nice down blouse view of their bras and cleavage and, once they settled back in the comfort of the soft cushions of the couch, an up skirt view of their panties. Today could be a memorable day, a day that I'll be masturbating over for a decade. With the women sitting together on the couch, I sat across from them in a chair.

"Concentrate on my keychain," I said dangling my keychain at eye level. "Imagine it's made of shiny gold and you cannot remove your eyes from the brilliance of it. It is the most beautiful gold keychain you have ever seen. Only, this is a magical keychain. It relaxes you, the more you stare at it."

I watched them relax. So far so good.

"You're suddenly getting very tired. You feel so sleepy. Concentrate on the motion of the gold keychain. You can't stay awake another minute. Your eyelids are getting very heavy. You just want to sleep. Sleep. Sleep deeply. You are in a deep, deep sleep."

I couldn't believe it when both women had their eyes closed and their heads leaning forward with their chins on their chests. Now, they were ready for my hypnotic suggestion.

"Gloria, every time I say the word dog, you will feel the need for a cigarette, but instead of reaching for a cigarette, you will remove an article of clothing. By removing your clothes, you will feel, as if you have had a cigarette. You won't feel embarrassed by your lack of clothes, just satisfied with your craving to smoke gone."

I couldn't help but feel as if I were a wizard or more appropriately, an evil doctor. Maybe, I could take my show on the road and make money doing this. I can call myself Gypsy Joe and buy a tight fitting gypsy outfit, something that will drive the women wild by the site of the impression of my cock through my tight pants.

"Sleep Gloria, sleep."

I returned my attention to my other victim, I mean, volunteer.

"Julie, every time I say the word cat, you will feel the desire to have a piece of chocolate, only instead of eating chocolate, you will remove an article of clothing. By removing your clothes, you will feel, as if you have had a piece of chocolate and won't need to feed on candy. You won't feel embarrassed, just satisfied."

Then, I had a terrible thought. What if these women are faking being under hypnosis? What if they are both waiting to see what I make them do, before they call the police, report me, and have me arrested?

Surely, no doubt, I'm committing a criminal act by doing this. This is too good not for there to be a law against hypnotizing and taking advantage of women. There are laws against all the fun things in life, such as, shooting guns in the neighborhood, driving recklessly, and taking advantage of women.

"Sleep Julie, sleep."

At the count of three, you will feel rested, one. At the count of three, you will feel relaxed, two. At the count of three, you will not remember any of this, except for when I give you the hypnotic suggestive word, three.

"So, when do we try this," said Gloria looking wide eyed and happy.

"Yeah, I'd like to know if it will work or not," said Julie.

"I think I have to read more on the subject, before I try it on humans," I said with a sly smile. "I should probably try it on my dog or my cat."

Immediately Gloria and Julie stood, reached down to their waist and pulled their blouses over their heads and off their bodies. I couldn't believe it. I was stunned. It worked. It actually worked.

The proof of my scheme, I mean, scam, sorry, what I meant to say is hypnotic suggestion. There they were sitting in front of me in their short skirts and bras. Gloria had a rack with beautiful cleavage. She had C cup tits and Julie had A cuppers.

"Only, I wouldn't know what hypnotic suggestion to give my dog or my cat," I said hoping they'd take off another piece of clothing.

As soon as I said their suggestive word, they both stood, unbuttoned and unzipped their skirts and allowed them to fall to the floor, before returning to their seats. Except for looking a bit dazed, both women looked normal sitting there, as if they were fully dressed. If only they knew they were sitting before me in the lingerie. If only they knew I was ogling their lingerie clad bodies.

I couldn't believe both women were sitting across from me in their panty and bra. Did I dare continue? Are they really hypnotized or just pulling my leg? How far will they go in this little charade? How far will I go with my hypnotic perversion? What the Hell? Why not? Hopefully, I have more to gain than to lose.

"My dog and cat would probably enjoy being hypnotized," I said, while watching them reach around behind their backs and unhook their bras. 

Dear Lord, I know that I haven't been the best person, but I swear to you, from now on, I'll go to church every Sunday to give my thanks for this glorious day and these two fine Christian women. Oh, my God. I couldn't believe it when they removed the straps from their shoulders and peeled off their bras. Now, topless, I couldn't believe my eyes.

Tits! There they were, yep, all four of them. Gloria had a gorgeous set of knockers and even though Julie's boobs were small, they were very shapely, with pink puffy nipples. I wouldn't mind sucking on those little tits, while making love to her.

"I love my dog and cat," I said hoping they never find out that I don't have a dog or a cat.

Immediately, they both stood and removed their panty. They were both naked. Did I mention they were naked? Yeah, they were naked, alright. I couldn't stop staring at their naked bodies. I wanted to touch them, but was afraid they'd awaken.

Gloria had a trimmed brown pussy and Julie was shaved. By her complexion, it was obvious that Julie was a natural blonde. Instead of shaving her pussy, to prove to all that she was a natural blonde, she should have left a little runway of hair to show that her carpet matched her drapes.

Now what? Now that I had seen them naked, now that I was done ogling, their hot, naked bodies, how do I get them to put on their clothes? I didn't read that in any of the books. Afraid to get caught molesting these women, I left. 

I couldn't believe it when I ran into Gloria and Julie the next day. I wanted to die. I wanted to run and hide. I figured they'd really be angry with me. Only, both were so very happy.

"I don't know what you did, Joey, but I no longer want a cigarette and Julie hasn't had a piece of chocolate. That's not all. We had the most unbelievable sex after you left. You missed a wild show."

"Yeah," said Julie. "We had no idea we were lesbians."

Gees, are you kidding me? I left before the good part. I can't wait to try this hypnotism stuff again.