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Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 01

By: blacknight99



This is a chronicle of the most important two weeks of my life. First things first, though. I should warn you about this story. For, while the title is certainly accurate... and while this tale really IS about me hypnotizing the babysitter... and while it really IS about how this girl's head was filled with all sorts of enticing and passionate suggestions... and while it IS about how these suggestions led her to engage in extremely arousing and exotic sexual relations with me... I feel obligated to inform you that this story is NOT actually about what you THINK it's about.

Now that you've been properly cautioned, and if you are so inclined, I invite you to read on.

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

MAY 19th

I was a wreck. I hadn't been out of the house in months. Well, not except for the normal, non-entertainment reasons. I dropped off my daughter at pre-K and picked her up from daycare on most days. And, I shopped for groceries and clothes and shoes for my little Tina. And, I still ran 5K twice a week during breaks in my schedule. But I hadn't been OUT, if you know what I mean.

I got these weird, wild, off-the-wall ideas in my head, for some reason. And that's what had happened that evening. I decided I HAD to get out of the house. Get out anywhere. I arranged for our regular babysitter, a young tenth grade high school student that was the daughter of a guy who did small plumbing jobs in town. (And before you get ideas that I was destined to wind up stalking this underage little gal, I should mention that this was NOT the babysitter our story is about. You'll meet her soon enough.) I was walking in the general direction of a bar that used to be a favorite of my wife. She was in Portland, so there was no danger of running into her there.

Almost as an afterthought, I realized that I probably didn't have enough money, and I started digging in my pockets in order to take financial stock of the evening. I had a twenty and a five. The sitter would take care of the twenty... I'd HAVE to pay her for two hours, minimum. I racked my brain. Monday. It was $4 domestic bottled beer night. I could just make it... for one beer, plus a tip. Tomorrow, the auto-payment on the credit card would take effect, and I'd be solvent. God, this was the pits. (Of course, things weren't really THAT bad. I could always dip into my savings account or increase my credit limit, the way my card company tried to get me to do three or four times every year. But that would be admitting defeat; and if I could just hold out... if I could just make ends meet a little while longer... I was SURE things would come my way.)

I started to feel the world closing in on me again. My heart began hammering in my chest. Crap! I stopped and leaned heavily against a tree only five houses up the street from my own.

"Evenin', Reggie. You okay?" The question floated out toward the street from the darkened porch.

I straightened myself upright. "Hi, Sam. Yeah, just resting. Nice night."

There was a hesitation. "Sorry to hear about you and Rita."

I kept the sigh out of my voice. I didn't know if he could see my shrug. "It happens. Catch you later, Sam."

"G' night, Reggie."

I walked on toward the waterfront. In all my born days, I never, ever could have imagined that I would be prone to panic attacks. I'm a big guy, athletic, strong... and, I like to think, stable. When a problem presents itself, I always step back a pace and judge my options. Calm. Self-assured. A good man. A good father. For a long while there, I had been a good husband.

My heart rate was steadying out, and I took a deep breath. There was little doubt what was causing this. The psychiatrist knew. I knew. But knowing didn't seem to make it any better.

Nine months ago, I had left home on a business trip. The first leg of any travel entailed an hour-and-a-half drive to either Portland or Boston to catch a plane. On this particular day, my flight had been cancelled, and the next one on the schedule would have put me into Denver too late for my meeting. So, after conferring with my office, I'd driven back home... where I found my wife and her best friend's husband in our bed. I'd never seen it coming. Didn't have a clue.

There had been individual counseling and couple's counseling and marriage counseling. I'd gotten a shrink and a specialist to help with the horrible insomnia... which had led eventually to the panic attacks. But, like I said, knowing what causes something doesn't always mean it's going to go away.

And, eight weeks before this (the start of our story), Rita had dropped the next bombshell. Oddly, though, this time, it didn't seem to faze me. The bad marriage wasn't a result of the infidelity, she said. Rather, the infidelity was the result of a bad marriage. It wasn't my fault, she explained. (WHY do women always say that?) She simply didn't love me. She hadn't loved me for a long, long time, now. She wanted out. And, like always, I stepped back a pace and judged my options. Fine. Whatever. Let's get this over with and get on our lives. I just didn't care anymore.

We didn't fight. We didn't even get lawyers. We did it through something called "Divorce Mediation." She floored me by suggesting that I keep primary custody of little Tina AND the house. She'd simply sign her share over to me. She only wanted our daughter two days a week and every other weekend. It took me awhile to see her reasoning behind this. We had moved to Maine to be close to HER family. There was really nothing to keep me there after the split unless I kept the residence and promised to raise our daughter in it. She figured that giving me the house would do that, and she'd always have easy access to her child while living near her family.

It was a BIG place; six bedrooms, four bathrooms, and it was on the National Register of Historic Places; some treaty had been signed there the better part of two centuries before. It had been hard getting the house in the first place, financially; but she was a doctor and I earned even more than she did. We'd gotten it while the economy was down; and now that times were better, houses in our little seaside tourist town were skyrocketing in value. (A couple movie stars had bought places there.) I figured I could just swing it economically on my own, but financial plans never work out the way we hope; and now I was "house-poor." Without access to her salary, after the mortgage payment, taxes, insurance and utilities, I was literally living from paycheck to paycheck.

I walked into the bar portion of the pierside restaurant, greeted the bartender, and ordered my bottle of Sam Adams as if I actually had more to spend than the fiver I slapped down on the bar. We chatted awhile. He told me it was a shame about Rita. I'd almost perfected my sad-smile-and-shrug routine. "It happens," I told him.

It was warm for May, and I took my bottle and drifted toward the tables outside. While tourist season would officially begin with Memorial Day in less than a week, there were only locals present and the place was sparsely populated. I was actually beginning to think I was going to be allowed to sip my beer unmolested when both Tod and Teri Ramsey barked my name in unison from a small table near the railing. I contemplated how I could get out of sitting with them, and couldn't figure any solution. I realized I shouldn't have tried going out yet. It was too soon. I pasted on my bravest face, went over and sat down.

They offered their condolences about the breakup, pushed gently for juicy details they could pass on to the local gossip mill, but mainly settled for my nondescript answers. We talked about the kids... their two boys and my daughter... and about upcoming events. I was immensely sad to realize that, in lieu of talking, I had been drinking, and now my beer was empty. It was early yet to be heading home, but there was really nothing else to keep me there. However, when I tried to make my excuses and leave, they both protested to the extent that I just sat there, pretending there was still something in the bottle. Without meaning to, I started talking about the house and its associated expenses. I even mentioned that the simple luxury of having a babysitter was more than my budget would allow nowadays.

Teri got a look in her eye that was something between devious mischief and determined resolution; then she got up from the table and headed inside without a word of explanation. I turned a questioning gaze toward Tod, but he just shrugged, indicating that there was no attempting to explain women. She returned with another round of drinks, set them on the table and announced that neither of us was to go anywhere until she returned. And then, she left.

Very strange. Tod only added to the weirdness when he pointed toward the drink Teri had left in front of her own place at the table. "She NEVER drinks wine coolers," he commented. The conversation lagged, and he eventually began lamenting the state of the greens on the country club golf course. After what I deemed a long, long time, I began counting, silently. When I got to a hundred, I resolved, I was going to leave, no matter what he said.

And just as I reached 95, a young woman was suddenly standing at the table. Tod was immediately startled out of his musings about the local links. "Dawn! What are you doing here? Are the kids okay?"

The lady looked down upon us with a great deal of interest. She didn't answer immediately, and seemed to be studying me intently. Finally, she turned to my partner and said: "The children are fine, Tod. Teri is with them." And she returned her scrutiny to me.

Under the circumstances, I didn't feel too self conscious studying her, as well. She was not a pretty girl. She was rather "big boned;" that is to say, she was tall and about thirty pounds overweight. She was obviously Asian in heritage. Her black hair hung long and limp, unkempt, down past her broad shoulders. Her eyes were wide-spaced and intelligent, and her complexion was clear; though her mouth was a little too small and her nose a little too broad to fit any definition of beauty. Her whole face was a contradiction in symmetry. Despite her size, she wore a sweatshirt that was much too large for her, and I immediately surmised that this was to hide the fact that her breasts were... well, they were much more than generous, if you catch my meaning.

"Won't you sit down, Dawn?" I asked, trying to break the silence.

This seemed to shock her. "Um... thank you." She pulled out the chair that Teri had left and sat, still regarding me openly.

"Do you like wine coolers?" I asked her. "We seem to have one that's going to waste."

Again, my words appeared to startle her. "Uh... thank you. I love wine coolers." She twisted off the cap of the bottle and poured it into the glass of ice before her.

"Dawn is Teri's cousin," Tod explained to me hesitantly. "She's... uh... staying with us for awhile."

She waited for the effervescence to die down for a moment before pouring the remainder of the small bottle into the glass, and then she returned her attention to me. "Are you Mr. Torrance?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered, bemused by this whole scenario. "Please, call me Reggie."

"This is for you," she told me, handing me an envelope. I had no idea where it came from. She wasn't carrying a purse. I took it automatically. It wasn't sealed, and inside was a single sheet of copy paper with one inked paragraph in a woman's neat hand which had obviously been written in haste:

"Reggie,

I believe that my cousin Dawn might be the answer to your immediate problem. She's looking for a place to stay. She's absolutely amazing with children. She's helped us out by watching Tod-Junior and Tony from time to time. You've got all that room in that big old house of yours... and unless things have changed dramatically, you could save a bundle by having her watch Tina instead of paying for daycare."

I read it through twice while Dawn studied me intently. "Do you know what this says?" I asked her. When she gave her head a little negative shake, I handed it to her.

She glanced at it for perhaps four seconds, then she solemnly put it down on the table in front of her. "Well," she said softly, quietly, sadly.

Tod snatched it up and studied it for a long time. Despite myself, I had already done the math. Three hundred fifty bucks. Rita paid half, but with the summer coming and full-day day daycare costs facing us while I worked in my home office, my savings would still be $350!

"Dawn," Tod said seriously. "Don't let my wife pressure you into something you're not ready to do. You're family. You are welcome to stay with us for as long as you like."

"No," the woman answered without looking at him. She kept her attention on me. "I've overstayed my welcome. I should leave." She hesitated. "What do you say, Mr. Torrance? Can I offer you my services in exchange for room and board?"

She tried to keep her gaze steady and unwavering, but when I smiled at her, she blushed and looked down. "Please, call me Reggie," I repeated.

"No," she answered quietly. "I won't. I'd like to keep it formal, please. Do you mind?"

I contemplated her. "Have I offended you somehow?"

That made her look up into my eyes. "No!" She hesitated again. "I mean... no, you haven't! You mustn't think that! It's just that... that... I have a problem with authority."

I sat back, shocked. A glance in Tod's direction didn't help. His mouth was hanging open, and he was obviously stunned. "A problem with authority? That doesn't make any sense," I told her gently.

"Please," she whispered imploringly. "Don't ask me to explain; but please... allow me to do that, at least. It's all I'll ask of you, I promise: just that one little indulgence."

"Indulgence," I muttered. She was looking down again. When she first walked up to the table, nothing seemed to be able to keep her gaze off of me. Now, she appeared completely unable to make eye contact. She was forced to look up, however, when her peripheral vision saw my outstretched hand. "It's a deal," I told her. "I'll see you tomorrow. Do you need help moving your things?"

She was looking down again as she shook my hand. "No, sir. I only have one suitcase. I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you, sir."

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

MAY 22nd

It was absolutely astonishing how quickly she became part of our household. That first night, while I was putting her to bed, Tina asked me imploringly if we could "keep her." They had become "bestest friends," she explained.

Having just turned four years old, my daughter was distressingly into all the things I loathed when it came to little girls. Disney princesses, mermaids, fairies, the color pink, ribbons, stuffed animals and baby dolls. Everything the Industrial Entertainment Empire told us little girls SHOULD like... well, that's what she liked. It's not that I was having "little boy envy" or anything; it's just that I wanted to raise an individual and not just another "girly-girl."

But damn, she was cute.

Dawn, seemingly, couldn't care less what my philosophy was. If Tina wanted to play "princess dress-up," then that's what they did. And my new "babysitter" did it in such a way that my daughter was almost instantly in her thrall. Dawn never spoke down to her. With the exception of kneeling or sitting to "put them on the same level," she spoke to the little girl as an equal. She would often explain confusing words in terms that a four-year-old would instinctively understand. They would read book after book, take long walks together or sit under the tree in the back yard and just talk. By the end of the second day with us, Tina was insisting that Dawn read to her at bedtime, kiss her goodnight, tuck her in.

During Tina's "alone playtime," Dawn cleaned the house, did the dishes and laundry, and tidied up. No amount of protest on my part made her stop these little extracurricular exercises. I hadn't realized how I'd let the place go until I saw her working. After Rita moved out, I had immersed myself in my work. Funny thing about work... the more you do, the more everyone EXPECTS you to do. I simply hadn't realized until now how much I'd neglected everything else.

During Tina's naptime and after bedtime, Dawn closed herself up in her bedroom with her laptop and cell phone. She explained to me that she worked "part time" as a "tech rep," but when I queried her about this outside work, she quickly steered the conversation in other directions, and I hadn't found out what it was. I heard her through her door, though, often speaking quite earnestly about something. Whoever she spoke to, she called "sir." These calls were always rather brief, and never lasted more than half an hour. Also, I noted, they never called her... the calls were only placed when she had time to make them. In fact, nobody ever called her.

It was late that night, the third day that she'd been with us, that I heard a slight tapping on my bedroom door. I sleep in the nude, and I was reading an old novel, the blanket pulled up just past my waist; so I called out for her to come in. She entered, head down, as if she was afraid to look up at me, concerned that she might become embarrassed. She wore some sort of nightshirt which was much too large for her. She let go of the doorknob and stood there, her arms at her sides, one of her hands in a fist, holding something.

"Please, sir. Do you have a moment? I'd like to talk to you."

I sighed. "There's nothing I can say to you to make you stop calling me 'sir,' is there?"

"No, sir," she whispered.

"Because you have a problem with authority," I finished.

"Yes, sir."

I regarded her curiously and let the silence stretch on awhile. When it became obvious that she would say nothing else until I spoke again, I said: "You happen to have caught me in a slightly indecent condition."

That made her look up, and she gasped loudly, blushing crimson, as if the sight of a man's bare chest was beyond the capacity of her senses.

I laughed at that. "Oh, for crying out loud, Dawn, relax. What's on your mind?"

After a long, indecisive pause, she took a step toward me, paused again momentarily, and finally walked all the way to me. Her very large, unencumbered breasts moved enticingly beneath the fabric of her shirt, and her face was constantly flushed as she made her way resolutely to the side of my bed, where she sat, her hands in her lap. Making sure I stayed covered up, I scooted over a little to make room for her.

"You don't sleep," she said softly.

I cleared my throat. "Um... I've been struggling with insomnia for awhile now. I'm sorry; have I kept you awake?"

"What are you taking for it?" she asked, ignoring the question. I pointed absently to several prescription bottles, all with their childproof caps, sitting on my bedside table. She picked them up and glanced at them, each in turn, before setting them back down. "Pretty powerful stuff," she commented.

"They'd be better if they actually worked," I said morosely. "You're familiar with them?"

She nodded. "Three of them. I had that problem myself, not long ago." She let the comment hang for a few moments. "I found something better."

"... Which you have in your hand," I commented.

She looked down at her closed fist, then straightened her fingers and offered the item to me in the palm of her hand. I didn't take it. It was a necklace... a sparkling, clear gem on a thin gold chain.

"I'm not really into homeopathic medicine," I told her. "You really believe that wearing a magic necklace will help me sleep?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Hypnosis," she said simply. "I use self-hypnosis."

I tried not to show her the utter disbelief I felt about her opinion, but I must have conveyed something, because she looked suddenly startled and unhappy. I sighed. "Let me get this straight. You hold that thing up and stare at it, and it puts you to sleep?"


Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 01



"No, sir. Not anymore. All I have to do now is just THINK about it, and I go out like a light." She studied my eyes, then lowered her gaze again, dejectedly. "If only you'd let me show you, sir. If only you'd try it, just once. If only... " She looked up again imploringly. "If only you'd let me help you!"

I smiled at her. "Sure, Dawn. How do you want to do this?"

She wiped a tear from her left cheek and studied me intently. "Really?"

I shrugged. "Why not? What have I got to lose?"

She leapt to her feet, glanced around quickly, and fled to the bathroom, where she turned on the light and closed the door until there was just a sliver of light streaming into the room. She hurriedly closed the bedroom door leading into the hall and snapped off the overhead light; and then finally, she clicked off the lamp at my bedside. "Lie back, sir" she ordered. "Lie down flat."

I grinned at her urgent persistence; then, careful not to let the covers creep down below my waist, I slid down and positioned myself on my back, my head on a pillow. Without a word, she held the dangling jewel above my face, and I was astounded as it shattered the white light from the bathroom into hundreds of dancing, colored fragments.

"Is that a diamond?" I asked.

"It's a crystal," she replied quietly. "Now, please, sir, no more talking. Just listen. Listen and relax for me." I nodded. "Please, sir. You must relax. Take a deep breath for me. That's it. And now, take another breath as you relax, more and more. Just look at the crystal and relax."

I mused that I probably WOULD fall asleep soon, but it had little to do with either the gem or her soothing mantra. I was very tired, having only gotten a couple hours rest the night before; and I had just resolved to turn out the light and try to sleep when she had knocked on my bedroom door. Still, if I allowed myself to drift off while she was doing this, it would probably make her feel better, believing that she had helped me.

"Relax," she whispered softly. "You should know what it feels like to fall asleep while you're watching the crystal, sir. This is what I feel like, every night when I imagine the crystal and relax. Relax. I get SO tired. So tired, just watching the crystal and relaxing. Do you feel that, sir? Feel tired while you relax?" I found myself nodding, though I hadn't meant to. "That's the way I feel," she continued. "SO tired, and SO relaxed. And now, you're probably noticing that you feel a little dizzy, watching the crystal spinning lazily. SO lazy and SO relaxed and SO tired."

I thought about explaining it to her. It was an inner ear thing, actually; watching lights spinning in a darkened room. Had something to do with fluid at rest in the Eustachian tubes while the eyes perceived motion. Hmmm. Probably too much information, I mused. I'd just enjoy the ride while the bed seemed to twist gently under me. I seemed to be floating.

I'm afraid I don't remember a whole lot for awhile after that. She kept muttering about relaxing and deep breaths and being tired and sleepy. At some point, I decided all on my own to close my eyes for awhile, but she seemed to believe that I was doing it because she suggested it. Good for her, I thought. She was trying so hard, and it would bolster her ego a little to think she was responsible for it. I decided to count, since I had nothing better to do. Each number helped me settle into the bed, to just let go for a bit and drift; and it seemed that all of my soothing thoughts and deep breaths and drifting consciousness was taking me lower, lower... down and down into a relaxation deeper than I had ever experienced.

"You will remember," she told me. "You want to be in charge; isn't that correct? You want to be in control. If you want that, then you can remember this."

I nodded at that. Yes, I WAS in control. It was her that was calling ME sir, after all. "Yes," I said distinctly.

"Then you will remember," she told me, affirming what I already knew. "And... you will have the power to return to this wonderful, deep, deep level of relaxation, whenever you wish. Simply lie in bed, just as you are doing now, and think of the crystal. Think of nothing else but the crystal and relax, and you can return here whenever you want. Isn't that so?"

"Yes," I answered again, knowing absolutely that it was the truth.

She paused for a long time while I floated, reveling in my control of the situation. Finally, hesitantly, she said: "Um... sir... you seem to be... I mean, are you...? Uh... " She took a long breath before she got the words out. "Are you... aroused, sir?"

I frowned at this. I could tell that I was hard, but I hadn't realized that she had been watching me. How could she have seen me? It was very dark. Did I have my eyes closed? Was this a dream? If so, was it an erotic dream?

"I should get up and take a cold shower," I told her resolutely. "That usually helps. I'm damned sorry that you saw me like this." I reached for the covers so I could get up and take a shower, but something seemed to be holding my wrists down.

"I think that you can't get up, sir," she said to me. "You must be asleep. Count to ten for me. If you are asleep, then with each number you count, you will find that your arms are too heavy to move... and that your body is too heavy to get up. Try that for me and see if I'm right."

I nodded and started counting. I was in charge here, no doubt. Still, I had to concede that she was right. When I finished, I couldn't move my arms, and my whole body seemed to be sunken into the mattress. "I can't get up," I told her morosely.

"Then you can't take a cold shower," she said matter-of-factly.

"No."

"Whatever will we do about it, sir?"

I sighed. "Please don't concern yourself. It happens a lot," I told her.

"What do you do about it when it happens?" she asked. "Do you... um... you know?"

"Take care of myself?" I frowned. That was really none of her business. And yet... she seemed be very concerned about me. That was sweet of her. "Sometimes I do," I admitted. "It's not... the same, though, if you know what I mean. I guess maybe I could." I tried to move my right hand to my groin, but it remained stuck at my side. I sighed. "Then again, I guess not."

"That's alright, sir. Please don't bother trying. I know that you can't move your hands or arms... and that your body is so relaxed and sunken deep into the mattress, so that you can't move at all, can you?"

"No."

I felt the covers being moved down over my erection. I gasped. SHE gasped. "Oh, sir! Oh, gosh, sir!"

I felt myself blushing. "I'm really sorry. My blanket must have slipped," I told her pleadingly.

"That... that's okay, s... sir," she faltered. "Please don't worry about it. It's not your fault. There was nothing you could do about it. You can't get out of bed... and you can't take a cold shower... and you can't touch yourself. I'LL just touch it a little bit." I felt fingers wrap around my shaft, and I moaned. "Gosh, sir," she continued, "you're really, really hard. And you're awfully big, sir. I didn't realize... " She squeezed gently and stroked her hand downward.

"AAAhhhh!" I exclaimed, arching my back.

"Does that feel good, sir?

"Aaahh! God, yes! Oh!"

She let go, and I groaned in disappointment. Then, her fingernails began playing with the sides of my straining shaft, scraping upward, back down. I arched my back again.

"Do you want me to keep going, sir?" she asked quietly.

"I... I want... that is, I think that if you do... Oh, God, Dawn!"

"You'll do what, sir? If I keep doing this, what will you do?"

"AAahh! I'll cum. I'm so sorry. It's been a really long time, you see. If you keep that up, I'm going to cum. Maybe you should stop!"

"Do you want me to stop, sir?" She cupped my balls, pulled them gently, scraped them playfully with her nails, and squeezed them again while grasping me around my cock with her other hand.

"Aaahh! No! No, please! Please don't stop!"

"If you cum, you're going to go to sleep, sir. Do you understand that? If you cum, you're going to go down and down and down into the deepest, most pleasant, restful sleep you've ever had. So deep, that you won't wake up until someone comes and tells you to wake up. You know that, don't you, sir? That is what is going to happen if you cum. And you won't be able to stop the sleep. Knowing that, do you still want me to make you cum, sir?" She began stroking me hard with one hand and kneading my testicles with the other.

"OH! YES! YES, Anything! Please!"

I erupted. Muscles clenched all along the sides of my stomach and my groin and my thighs and my cock and my balls. I have never, ever experienced such absolute, all-encompassing, blissful orgasmic release. It felt as if my cock was larger than it had ever been, and I was a little amazed that her fingers could reach around it. Just as I thought that it must certainly be over, I launched into another gasping, clutching, frantic, spouting explosion.

Dawn seemed just as amazed as I was. "OH!" she shrieked. "Oh, gosh, sir! There's so MUCH of it! Oh, my God! Here it comes again! Golly! It's getting EVERYWHERE!"

I wanted to apologize. I tried to tell her that I was sorry about the mess. I tried to tell her to please, just leave it until morning, and I'd take care of it. But suddenly, I found myself sinking, sinking... down and down and down... just like she'd said. 

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

MAY 23rd

I awoke with my daughter jumping atop me, gaily shouting "Wake up, Daddy! Wake up!" It would have been a wonderful, bright, happy morning... if it had been morning. With a sense of astonished horror, I realized that I had slept the clock around and it was now almost one in the afternoon. After banishing little Tina from the room, I leapt out of bed and pulled on some clothes. The events of the previous evening slowly came back to my increasingly restive mind, and I paused in my frenzy to minutely examine the bed. It showed absolutely no evidence of the bodily fluids I expected to find, nor were there signs of nocturnal emissions on my body. I had almost convinced myself that it was all a dream, when I suddenly remembered that the sheets on my bed were blue yesterday, and now they were green. The laundry room was on my way downstairs, and I interrupted the dryer's cycle by opening its door and peering inside. Blue sheets. So it HADN'T been a dream! Had it?

"Dawn!" I screamed, rushing into the kitchen.

She appeared immediately from the general direction of the play room. Tina was clinging to her left leg, and she'd been laughing. "Yes, sir?"

"Why did you let me sleep so long?" I shouted, gesturing frantically. "I had a conference call at 10:00!"

She looked conciliatory, but it was hard while she was attempting to free her leg from my daughter's grip. "Yes, sir. I know. It was on your calendar. I thought you needed some sleep, so I called Mrs. Confrees and told her that you were feeling bad and had to reschedule."

I stood, absolutely agog, staring at her. "You... you called Louisa Confrees? You called my department head? How do you even KNOW that name?"

She was shushing Tina, casting doubtful, nervous looks at me. "I figured it out from your computer. I found you in the company directory and then looked up the number of your DH. We rescheduled the teleconference for this afternoon at four. Nobody seemed to mind."

"You... My computer...? How...? That's impossible! My computer's secure!"

"Not very, sir," she said, looking at me the way a teacher looks at an errant schoolchild. "You left your code transponder sitting right next to it. And you should NEVER use your daughter's name as a password!"

"It's NOT her name!" I roared.

"A derivative of it, sir. Took me less than thirty seconds to figure it out."

I was REALLY about to let her have it, but my daughter began pounding on my legs with her tiny fists. "Don't yell at Dawn!" she screamed. She was crying.

Well, shit! I got down on one knee and took her in my arms, soothing her. I made a big show of calmly apologizing to Dawn. The babysitter, for her part, didn't look nearly as guilty as I thought she should have. "How do you feel, sir?" she asked, actually making eye contact.

I stood up, and for the first time since I'd sprung out of bed, I thought about that. I felt... I felt... GREAT! I actually felt rested and clear-headed! It had been MONTHS since I'd felt like this! I looked up at her in wonder, and she smiled brightly.

"Actually," I told her levelly, making sure my countenance was stern and condescending, "I'm hungry."

She KNEW, though. She beamed at me, and then she poured me a cup of coffee before cooking me eggs and toast.

This was to be a big day... an important day; and I was surprised that mousy, demure Dawn didn't show significant signs of stress. She was going to meet my wife. It was the Friday before the Memorial Day weekend, and we had been notified long before that Tina's Pre-K class would be cancelled (along with the Monday holiday, of course). It was Rita's weekend, and she intended taking our daughter to Portland to be with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins for the duration. If the babysitter was nervous about meeting her for the first time, she didn't show it. By five o'clock (after my conference call), Tina's little suitcase was packed (with three changes of clothes and four stuffed animals) and waiting in the foyer.

Tina made a big show of introducing her new bestest friend to Mommy, and if I had expected fireworks, I was disappointed. I was especially flummoxed when Dawn was more than happy to "just call her Rita," but I was careful not to show it. My ex-wife asked (as I half expected) if she could give up her two days during the coming week due to business. I found myself applying more and more pressure for her to keep up her visitation schedule... not because I felt the need for free time, but because I thought that our daughter should spend as much quality time with her mother as possible. She got a little huffy about it.

"If you don't want to, I'll hire Dawn to watch her!" Rita insisted. She pulled a hundred dollar bill out of her purse and held it out in the babysitter's direction. But to my amazement, Dawn was completely nonplused.

"No, Rita. I'm sorry. I only work for Mr... . uh... for your husband."

My wife's mouth firmed into a straight line. Instead of commenting, she dug back in her purse and came up with another hundred. She silently held the two bills out in Dawn's direction.

Instead of becoming flustered or angry, the babysitter smiled. "I really don't need the money. Thanks, anyway." She cast a little glance in my direction.

Rita cocked her head and studied the girl. Finally, she let a grin float across her face. "Holy cow, you're in love with him! It's been... what? Four or five days? And you're head over heels, aren't you?"

THAT had an effect. Dawn staggered back as if she'd been struck; and though she opened her mouth a couple times, she obviously didn't possess the power to form words.

Rita advance a few steps, and for a moment, I had absolutely no idea what was about to happen. But nothing did. My wife laid a gentle hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. That was totally inappropriate. The thought just surprised me, that's all." She let a moment pass. "There are no bad guys in this story, Dawn."

And, with that, she turned back toward me and continued her arguments. There had been a schedule change, and she was going to be in the northern part of the state all week, she explained (she was a pediatrician who worked for the state in Maine's four Native American tribal reservations). Her parents were busy, and they couldn't watch Tina. Neither could her sister. I finally capitulated. Rita got her way. Again. The "no bad guys" comment seemed especially ironic to me.

Then, suddenly, we were alone. Dawn was very sad as she watched the car drive off, and for a few moments, I thought she was about to cry.

"She... she's... beautiful," she whispered.

This caught me totally off guard. "Rita?" I thought about the statement and shrugged. "I guess." I let another few seconds tick by. "Actually, not really." My words seemingly had no effect on her. "Let's go out," I told her.

Now she glanced at me sharply. "No! I mean, no sir!" She looked down at herself for a moment, then reached up and fingered her long, scraggly hair. "YOU go, sir. I just downloaded a book I want to read."

I reached out and put my hand on her arm. Her breath caught, but she didn't pull away. "You haven't denied me any request since coming to work for me. Well... except for the calling me 'sir' thing. Are you going to refuse me now? I want go out with you. Let's get some dinner."

She seemed suddenly panicked. "Sir, I look horrible! I don't have any nice clothes! I... "

In response, I simply opened the front door, held out my hand to her until she finally took it, and then led her outside and up the street. We went to the noisiest bar in town; not one of those near the marina, but the one up on Main Street. I found a booth in a corner that would be farthest from the music when the band began playing, as I knew would be the case on a Friday night. I bought her first one wine cooler and then another while I had martinis, then we split a bottle of Chardonnay with our meals. It was, beyond any doubt, the most pleasant evening I had spent in almost a year.

Before the alcohol began to take effect, she was constantly fidgeting, smoothing her clothes, touching her face and hair; but eventually, she got caught up in the conversation, which, by unspoken consent, never touched on recent events. I told her about growing up in Rapid City; she talked about her childhood in Thousand Oaks, near Los Angeles. She had been adopted through a church-sponsored program from an orphanage in Mongolia. She had never considered herself a real "Valley Girl," due to her appearance; not because of her heritage, but rather because she had struggled all her life with her weight (and a perceived lack of beauty) in a place where all the popular girls were gorgeous, blonde and skinny. 

Despite our distance from the dance floor, when the live band struck up, it was difficult to hear; so I got up and sat beside her on one side of the table. We were constantly touching, and half way through the bottle of wine, I think we were both getting comfortable with the intimacy. I tried to think up and relate the most awkward moments of my youth just so I could hear her laugh. And yet, through the entire evening, she always called me "sir."

Halfway home, she stumbled and I caught her before she fell. I offered her my arm, and she clutched it the rest of the way, saying nothing else for the remainder of our walk. Once inside, she smiled and thanked me for a wonderful time, then fled to her room before I could comment. I poured myself a brandy and sat in the living room, thinking about her, trying to puzzle through the feelings I was having and the mystery that was my new babysitter. Maybe I shouldn't have had that brandy. It emboldened me... imbued me with a false sense of power. She would seemingly do anything I asked her to do (except call me by my first name), and I suddenly wondered where the limits of her obedience were drawn. Resolved to find out, I got up and went to her bedroom door.

I knocked softly but didn't wait for an answer. The room I'd given her had its own attached bath, and she was just emerging from that small inner sanctum. She wore one large yellow bath towel around her body, tucked into itself just above her breasts, and another blue towel wrapped around her hair. She looked up at me, shocked. "Mr. Torrance! What... What do you want?" She reached up with one hand and clutched the top of the towel near her ample chest and down with the other to tug at the lower part, which barely covered her crotch. She stayed frozen in that pose for several long seconds before lowering her arms slowly to her sides. Somehow, the towel remained protectively around her. I found that I was breathing hard. Was she offering herself to me? "What do you want, sir?" she whispered softly.




Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 01



I felt that I was at a crossroads here, and I thought that I should fight these feelings. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. "I came to return the favor," I told her matter-of-factly.

She was truly flustered. "Favor?"

"The great night's sleep you helped me with. Where is that necklace of yours?"

Her eyes widened in shock. "M... My necklace?"

I held out my hand toward her, palm up. "Give me your necklace, Dawn."

She blinked. She took a step in the direction of the dresser, then she gasped and clutched frantically at the top of the towel, catching it just as it slid to the level of her nipples. She looked pleadingly at me, but I'd pasted on my best poker face. My mind, however, was in utter turmoil. Her breasts were even bigger than I'd imagined.

Keeping a firm grasp on the offending towel, she took the final steps to the dresser and retrieved the crystal necklace; but just as she was in the process of handing it to me, the towel around her head unraveled. She tried to catch it with the hand that was at her chest, but that only resulted in the large yellow towel peeling back from both sides of her body. As all the movement finally settled down, the blue towel was puddled at her feet while the yellow one was pinned at the top of the center of her chest with the palm of her left hand. Her right breast was mostly covered, but her left nipple was peeking tantalizingly from the folds of moist cloth. Her sides and back were completely bare. Her right hand had never wavered. It was holding the necklace, offering it to me.

I took it. "Lie down on the bed, please. Cover up with the sheet."

Without comment, she backed up to the bed. Always keeping the towel uselessly between the core of her body and my eyes, she slowly slipped under the covers, and only then did she let the yellow towel drop to the floor. "What are you going to do to me, sir?"

"I'm going to put you to sleep," I said flippantly. "You told me that just thinking about the crystal made you sleep, didn't you?"

She gasped. "You... you're going to... going to hypnotize me?"

I tried to look patronizing. "You told me that it was self-hypnosis. You make yourself sleep, don't you? Just thinking about the crystal?"

Her chest was rising and falling tantalizingly. "Yes, sir. Every time. I go to sleep every time."

I shrugged. "Then you'll probably just be hypnotizing yourself. I thought I'd try to help, though. You helped me have a wonderful night's sleep last night. So... I'll do the same for you. Wouldn't you like that?"

"I... I... think that... that I'd be very... very... " she stuttered.

"Very... what, Dawn?"

"Very... suggestible. I think that I'm very suggestible, sir. When I put myself to sleep at night, I try to think of things that I need to do the next day. I dream about them. And then... they happen. I make suggestions to myself, and they just happen."

I smiled. "Well, THAT's an interesting concept."

Without giving her further chances at conversation, I held the necklace at its end and dangled the gem above her eyes, which immediately locked onto the sparkling trinket. In only a few seconds, her eyelids sagged noticeably and she jerked suddenly, as if she'd just caught herself in the beginning of a dream of falling. She took a deep, ragged breath. "Oh, golly, sir. You're going to do it. You're really going to do it."

"What do you think about that, Dawn?"

She drifted off again, and again caught herself before she could fall asleep. "I think... I think... that you... could make me do things, sir. I think that you could make me do... anything."

I said nothing, and watched her as she sagged again to the edge of sleep. This time, however, she shocked me by shaking herself and turning to stare directly at me. "Please, sir!"

"Please what, Dawn?"

"I don't want to remember!"

This really puzzled me. "What?"

"Please, sir! Don't let me remember. You can do things to me. You can make ME do things. You can make me THINK things. But please don't let me remember! You will know... but I won't! I... I think... I think that would be... wonderful! Please?"

"Watch the crystal, Dawn."

"Yes, sir." Her eyes were now riveted to the sparkling jewel. Slowly, they closed and her head sank to one side, but she struggled valiantly to bring her face back to the crystal. She didn't quite make it. With a soft moan, she just seemed to collapse into profound slumber.

I suddenly realized that I could do anything with her. Anything. I have never experienced such a feeling of raw, unbridled power.

To Be Continued.



Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 02



MAY 24th

I returned from my run at 9:30. It was a cool day, and I was chockfull of endorphins ... a real runner's buzz. "And how are YOU this wonderful morning, Dawn?" I chirped, bursting into the kitchen through the screen door. I came up behind her, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, and gave her a little peck of a kiss on her left cheek.

"Mr. Torrance!" she exclaimed. Her hand went to her cheek, and she looked down and blushed beet red.

"Sorry," I answered, pouring myself a cup of coffee. "I feel great! And I do believe that I'm in love with the whole world!" I stuffed the two halves of a bagel into the toaster.

She was quiet for an entire minute. "Sir, I had a wonderful time last night. I want to thank you again for it."

"Which part of it?" I asked, innocently.

She blushed even more. "For the part of it that I remember," she said, so softly that I just barely heard it.

"I had a great time, too," I responded gaily. "Let's do it again. Soon." I dug through the refrigerator until I located the cream cheese.

She fidgeted and sipped her coffee. When it became evident that I was not going to say anything else, she coughed gently, seemed to screw up her courage, and asked: "Sir ... did you ... did you ... um ... make me do anything last night?"

"Like what?" I asked innocently.

She took a deep breath. "Sir, please! I can't remember! You put me to sleep, and I can't remember! Did we ... uh ... did we ...?"

"You told me that you didn't WANT to remember. You didn't want to KNOW. Do you remember saying that?"

She stared into her cup. "Yes, sir. I remember that. That's the LAST thing I remember, though."

I used the tip of my finger under her chin to lift her eyes to mine. "And I, ever the chivalrous hero, would never deny milady's wish." The toaster popped up, and I let go of her and turned away to tend to breakfast. When I finished preparing the bagel, I walked around the bar, facing her, and was suddenly shocked to find her crying. I hastily put down my plate and leaned forward toward her. Her hands were around her cup, and I put mine over hers. "Dawn ..."

"Am I still a virgin, sir?" she whispered.

"Oh, crap!" I muttered before I could stop myself. I took a deep breath and gently squeezed her hands in mine. "Look at me, Dawn." I waited until she complied. "I would never, ever take advantage of a woman like that. I didn't do anything to you after you went to sleep. You have my word."

She looked into my eyes through her tears. "You didn't?" Then, she floored me by asking: "Why not?"

I let go of her and took a step back. "Uh ... because I would never, ever take advantage of a woman like that?" I faltered. When she smiled sadly and looked back down at the cup, I became impatient. "Did you WANT me to take advantage of you?" I asked loudly. "Did you WANT me to take your virginity?"

Her unhappy smile broadened. "I wanted to please you, sir. I wanted to give you what you needed." She raised her eyes a little and peeked at me before lowering them again. "I know you wanted me. The way you looked at my ... at my breasts. The way you stared at me. I thought that when I woke up, I would find that you ... that you'd taken me the way you wanted to. But ... but I wasn't sore or anything, and I ... I ... um ... examined myself. And I couldn't see any ... um ... evidence. And so ... I figured that you didn't want me after all."

"Didn't want you?"

"I can understand why, sir. I'm fat, and I'm ugly, and ..."

"You are NOT fat! And you are NOT ugly! And I DO find you ... uh ... desirable!" I took a breath, but kept the volume up. "And I DO find this conversation to be decidedly weird!"

I picked up my plate and cup and I strode out of the room. I sat down at the dining room table and absently turned on the laptop computer there, scanning the news headlines without really seeing them.

After a few minutes, she was standing beside me. "I'm going to walk into town now, sir. Would you like me to get anything for you?"

She'd caught me off guard. "Uh ... not that I can think of, thanks. Why are you going?"

She gave me a shy smile. "You know."

I blinked. "I do?"

The smile broadened. She regarded me calmly for awhile. "Yes, sir. I KNOW when a suggestion had been implanted in my subconscious. I do it to myself all the time. I go to sleep at night thinking of my crystal, and while I begin to fade away, I give myself suggestions ... things that I need to do the next day. And then later, as I start to do those things, I know that I'm acting on the urge created by a posthypnotic suggestion. I can feel it. And so ... I KNOW you told me last night that I'd feel this way ... and that I'd do what I'm about to do. I KNOW that it's because you put it into my head. And I won't resist. I really, really don't WANT to resist." Her eyes shifted, as if she had just thought of something important. "Or is the urge not to resist just another implanted suggestion?" She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Goodbye, sir. See you in awhile."

And she turned and walked out of the house.

I wandered into the village myself an hour later, but I never saw her. There were a lot of tourists milling about, and the place was bustling. The fishing boats were coming in, and I bought a nice rockfish, which I had them filet. There's only one grocery store in town, but I found a couple bottles of Pinot Grigio, some small baking potatoes and a quart of early blueberries that I figured would be good with shortcakes. She wasn't at home when I returned, and I had no excuse not to mow the lawn.

It was much later when, sitting on the front porch swing and reading a volume of Fredric Brown's science fiction short stories, I saw her striding jauntily down the sidewalk with a large shopping bag hanging from each hand. The transformation was astounding. She wore a pair of three-inch heels below a pair of black pleated slacks. The blue silk blouse was low cut, and it showed an abundant amount of cleavage caused by an underwire bra under extreme tension. Someone professional had applied scant touches of makeup to her face that muted rather than highlighted. But it was her hair that made my mouth fall open in surprise. Full, thick, long and straight, it reached to the small of her back; and it was so deeply, glossy black that it seemed to have an almost purplish brilliance.

I found myself standing as she climbed the steps up to the porch. "May I sit down, sir?" she chirped, smiling.

"My God, Dawn!" I took the bags from her and set them down along the wall of the house, then I took both of her hands in mine and held them out apart so I could rake her body with my eyes. She laughed and blushed, but didn't protest as I let go with one hand and spun her around so I could examine her from all angles. I motioned for her to sit on the porch swing, then joined her, sitting close.

"I was SO lucky that they had a cancellation at the beauty parlor on a Saturday," she said. She stiffened for a moment as I put my arm along the back of the swing, but then she settled into me and sighed. We didn't say anything for a long time. "Would you believe that I've only been to a beauty parlor once before in my whole life?" she asked me. "My senior prom." She sighed. "Well, not MY senior prom, actually."

"Not yours?"

"I graduated after the tenth grade. But all of us 'non-in-crowd' girls got together and went En Masse that year, sort of as a show of defiance. The 'ins' were absolutely horrified."

I closed my eyes. "Be quiet for a moment ... let me see if I can imagine you being defiant."

She laughed. "Are you going to take me out again tonight, sir?"

"No. I'm making you dinner here. I'm not going to share you with anyone."

We were silent awhile. "Are you going to hypnotize me again tonight, sir?"

"Oh, yes," I answered.

She waited another thirty seconds before asking: "And are you going to take me ... sexually tonight, sir?"

"Yes," is said immediately. "Not necessarily in that order, though."

She reached up and put her palm on my chest, then leaned in and snuggled the side of her face into my shoulder. "I'm really nervous. But I knew it was coming. You programmed me to accept it."

I let the arm along the back of the swing fall, and I began idly running my fingers through her hair. "I didn't program you, Dawn."

I felt her shrug. "You suggested it, then. You made the hypnotic suggestion; and now, I can't stop thinking about it. I've been obsessed with the idea all day; the idea of surrendering to you, of pleasing you."

We sat like that, swinging gently, for a long time. Eventually, I got up and went inside to put the potatoes in the oven to bake before returning with two glasses of wine. We talked about trivialities, but we sat like lovers sit, close, touching. Dusk was falling and I refilled our glasses, and the evening stretched on, calm yet electric with the underlying anticipation of sex. We finally went in, and she set two places at the table, close together, while I fired up the grill in the back yard for the fish. I popped the cork on the second bottle.

Halfway through the meal, she leaned toward me unsteadily and confided: "Do you want to know something about pushup underwire bras?" She let the question hang for a second. "Too much support hurts."

I stood and held out my hand to her for several seconds before she finally understood my meaning, took it and allowed me to help her to her feet. Slowly, slowly, I unbuttoned her blouse. "Don't you want to finish dinner first, sir?" she asked quietly. I didn't answer, but concluded my task, slipped the garment off her shoulders and draped it across the back of her chair. She shuddered and took a deep breath as I turned her so that I could release the clasp of the bra. When it was off, she started to turn toward me, but I stopped her, and instead held the blouse so that she could put it back on. She giggled when she realized what I had in mind, and slipped her arms through it. She started to button it back up, but I told her to leave it that way, so she sat again. "You've already seen my breasts, sir," she commented.

"Only the left," I said sadly. "I never did get a good look at the right one."

She giggled again and moved the fabric so that her right breast was bare for a moment before re-covering it. I had no idea what her measurements were, but I suddenly realized that it wasn't possible for natural breasts that size to exist without sagging. Every time she moved, even a small amount, they swung gently, bounced and jiggled. With her blouse unbuttoned like it was, I could constantly see the inner sides of both smooth, fleshy globes. Within seconds, her nipples became turgid and engorged, and they seemed to strain out against the silk fabric as if they longed to come out and play.

I continued eating, but she only picked at her food now. "Are you okay, Dawn?"

She nodded, but a few seconds later, a tear emerged from her right eye, and she shook her head miserably. "I ... I sort of lied to you, sir." I didn't comment, and finally, she put down her fork and stared up at me pleadingly. "I'm NOT a virgin." She looked down at her hands in her lap.

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

She sighed. "No, sir." She sniffed a couple times. "Of course, you could MAKE me tell you, if you wanted."

She didn't see my hesitant grin. "I think that what you're trying to say is that you WANT me to make you tell me." I kept my voice tender. 

She kept her eyes lowered. "I ... I did it with my hairbrush."

I blinked and tried to take in the implications of that. "You what!?"

"With the handle of my hairbrush. I did it a couple months ago. I was going through ... um ... a rather rough period in my life."

"I'm very sorry. It ... it must have hurt you."

"That's what I wanted at the time," she replied sadly. "To see blood. To feel pain." She paused dejectedly. "I ... I was really fucked up, sir."

It's the first time I'd ever heard her use harsh language. I reached out and took her hand in mine, and she looked down and studied them ... our two hands ... seemingly mesmerized by the sight. "How fucked up were you, Dawn?"

She shrugged. I got the weird impression she was talking to our hands rather than to me. "Oh ... pretty fucked up. And ... at the moment, I was drunk ... and high. All of a suddenly, I decided that I didn't want to die a virgin. I had just swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills, you see ... one of the same kinds of pills you have upstairs next to your bed. I woke up the next day in a pool of my own vomit. How pathetic is THAT!?"

"Why did you do that? Why did you try to kill yourself?"

She sighed heavily and continued to speak to the hands. "I read a dozen books on psychology at the library after I tried it. I'd never really been interested in psychology. If you believe all that stuff, I imagine you'd tell me that I was depressed because it was the first time in my life that I was without any kind of structure ... I had no one to give me directions."

"You didn't have a Sir."

"I didn't have a Sir," she repeated quietly. She suddenly seemed to realize something and looked up at me sharply. "But you mustn't think that I would do something like that now. When YOU send me away, I promise you that I will never consider that again." 

"Send you away?"

"I know you will, eventually. I expect that, and I accept it. I'll be okay. I even have a job waiting for me, back in California. But ... I've never met anyone like you, sir. The last few days have been like a dream; helping you, being with you, having you guide me ..." Her whole body shivered. "... having you hypnotize me." She picked up her wine glass and found it empty. "I think maybe I've had too much to drink."

I really wanted to change the subject. "Dawn, I'm afraid I have some bad news." She looked up and tried to focus, her eyes startled and serious. "I ..." I picked up her hand and continued gravely: "I ... don't think I can keep my hands off of your breasts any longer. Your nipples are driving me crazy."

She'd been about to cry, and her laughter was broken with wet sniffles. "They're driving ME crazy, too, sir! The silk blouse is scraping against them almost constantly! They feel like they're made out of rocks!"

I stood and helped her to her feet again, then turned her away from me and slipped the blouse off her shoulders. "Rocks just won't do, I'm afraid," I told her flatly. "I don't think I'd like sucking on rocks." She giggled again and allowed me to turn her toward me. And before she was really ready, I kissed her hard.

She gave a surprised little "Mmff!" and staggered into me clumsily, her hands going to my arms, then dropping to her sides, and finally coming back up and snaking around my neck. Her breasts flattened against my lower chest, she gave a muffled moan, and she seemed to melt into me. Slowly, she began undulating her belly and groin against mine. She jerked slightly in surprise as I began exploring her lips with my tongue, then she hesitantly parted them and allowed me access to her mouth, responding with tentative forays with her own, caressing the intruder with hers. Her knees sagged for a moment, and when I finally broke my grip on her, she sighed heavily and hung from me, supporting herself by grasping my shoulders. She buried her face into my chest and kept rubbing herself against me slowly, sinuously.

"No one has ever kissed me like that," she wheezed, her chest heaving against my own. "OH! Oh, gosh, sir!" I had begun kissing my way down her body, pecking, licking, nibbling on her neck. "I'm on the pill," she said, and then moaned as I paid oral attention to the dimple between her neck and her collar bone. "I started taking them the first day I came to work for you, in case you ... you should ever ... want me like this. But ... but ..." She gasped as I nuzzled her neck. "But you'll have to tell me what to do, sir," she panted. "I need to please you. I HAVE to please you! But I don't know what to do. I've never been with a man like this before, and I ... OH!"

I'd made my way to her breast, and I sucked one of those magnificent nipples into my voracious mouth. It was an inch in diameter, and it had the feel of hard rubber. I suck-suck-sucked on it rapidly, then held it between my teeth and flicked it savagely with my tongue. My arms were around her waist, and she bent back against them while putting her hands behind my neck and head and pulling my face into the suffocating softness of her pillowy left breast while an intense shiver racked her body. I pushed away from her, kissed her softly on the lips, took her hand and led her up the stairs toward my bedroom. I found myself seriously contemplating picking her up and carrying her ... a modern Rhett Butler ... but she was too heavy for me to do that delicately. Still, she followed meekly behind me, obviously willing to do anything I told her, and that was enticing enough for me. I paused halfway up the stairs and adjusted my erection before continuing.

When I got her to the side of my bed, I positioned her so that I could gently push her down into a sitting position at one side. "Will you let me take you, Dawn? Will you let me do what I want with you?"

She nodded so vigorously that her hair flew all about her head. I leaned forward and kissed her very gently while I reached down and urged her knees apart with one hand. She complied immediately, and I inched forward between her spread legs until my knees were pressing into the edge of the mattress. I eased her onto her back, maintaining the kiss, so that she lay flat with her lower legs hanging over the edge; and then I began kissing my way down her body. Again, she was caught in a paroxysm of shivers when I started paying special homage to her nipples; and her lower body began straining upward against my crotch and upper legs. She groaned loudly, her breath coming in shuddering gasps.

Leisurely, I slid off the edge of the bed until I was on my knees, kissing and licking her lower chest and her stomach, while I worked with the catch on her pants and pulled down her zipper. Finally, I kissed my way to the tops of her cotton panties, and she popped into a sitting position, crying out as she understood what I was about to do; but she must have remembered her promise to "let me have my way," because with a resigned groan, she plopped onto her back again and ground herself up into my licking mouth. I slipped my fingers into the waistband of her slacks and panties and backed up a little so that she could bring her knees together and raise her bottom as I peeled them off, eventually taking the shoes with them. She wore no hosiery, and now she was completely nude. Then, I moved back in and ran my tongue up the length of her wildly secreting valley, which was nestled in black pubic hair, until I had made my way to her clitoris. I slathered my attention there for a few seconds, and then made my way down until I could sink it deeply up and into her channel. After lingering there awhile, I made the trip back up to her clit again.

She exploded in orgasm, surprising me with how quickly she had reached her peak, and her hips lurched upward, her stomach muscles tightening, her vaginal cavity gapping open, clenching shut, then opening again. She made unintelligible grunting sounds that slowly subsided into a low, almost humming noise, and she jerked as I gave her another few lazy licks before I crawled up until my face was even with hers. I kissed her lightly, then again ... and again. When I probed gently with my tongue, she knew right away what I wanted, and she opened her mouth to accept me, but froze momentarily as she detected the difference this time. She broke away, her hands gripping my shoulders, and she gazed into my eyes.

"Oh, Gosh! That's me, isn't it? That's what I taste like!" She took in my patient smile. "Oh, sir ... I just want to please you! I only want to please you! But everything you're doing is new. I don't understand what's happening. Help me, please! Tell me what you want!"




Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 02



I laughed at her earnestness and she lowered her eyes and blushed. "I want you to undress me," I told her gently. "I want you to touch me the way you did the other night." She seemed startled that I'd said this, but she immediately began unbuttoning my shirt, fidgeting with my belt. "Did you think I'd forgotten?" I asked her.

"After you ... gushed ... and fell asleep, I told you that you'd remember it as an erotic dream," she said, working my trousers down past my hips. She became flustered when she couldn't get the pants past my shoes, so she had to shift her priorities. She snuck a peek up at me as she worked. "But you knew, of course. You are so strong. Much stronger than me. I bet you could make me believe anything ... or forget anything. Anything at all. But you remembered it ... you've known all along, haven't you?"

"Touch me again," I ordered, lying on my back, my erection pointing mightily skyward. She grasped it without hesitation, then bent forward and kissed it. I allowed a deep moan to escape my throat as she slowly sucked me into her hot mouth. She applied a great deal of suction and kept her teeth well out of the way, bobbing her head up and down. My wife had always refused me this little pastime, so I actually had very little familiarity with it ... but in my limited experience, this was perfect. "You've done this before, haven't you? You've done this to another man."

She jerked her head up and stared at me, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. "Y ... you ... you made me tell you, didn't you, sir? When you hypnotized me ... you made me tell you about him. I have no secrets from you, do I, sir? You know everything about me." She issued a shuddering sob. "Please, sir. Please don't make me talk about him now. Everything is so ... perfect. The way you're controlling me ... guiding me ... the way you're making me feel. Please don't spoil it. Please don't make me talk about ... him!" She spat out the last word as if it was a piece of rotten food.

"Come here, Dawn," I told her quietly. She cocked her head and looked at me quizzically. "Come here ... into my arms." She scooted herself up until our faces were even, and I grasped her wrists and guided them around my neck. I kissed her gently, but when she pressed her lips into mine, seeking more urgency, I drew back before kissing her lightly again. For the next several minutes, I kept it very tender ... very intimate. I stroked her back and sides, the top of her butt. 

Her breathing deepened, her breasts straining into me. "Please, sir. Please take me. You're driving me crazy, sir."

"There will be no wild, animalistic sex tonight, Dawn. I just need to make love. I need it so badly. It's been so long since I've really made love."

She backed away until her eyes could focus on mine. "I'll do anything for you, sir. Anything. But I've never done this. Please tell me what you want."

"Touch me again." One of her hands came away from my neck and back down to my straining hard-on, and she began pumping me slowly. I kissed her again, and I was surprised to find that the fingers of her other hand were now in my hair at the back of my head. She gasped into my mouth as I began tweaking her left nipple. "A bit sensitive, are they?" I asked, keeping my lips in contact with hers.

"Y ... yes, sir." I dropped my hand between her legs again and began rubbing the top of her cleft. Her clitoris was enlarged and hard. "OH! Oh, sir! Sir, NO!"

Her eyes were wide, and I looked into them sternly. "What will you do for me, Dawn? Will you do anything I ask?" (This was all new to me. I'd never played the part of the assertive master in bed before, and I was making this up as I went along.)

"But ... but ... OH! Oh, sir! I've already ... You've already made me ... OH!"

"Will you do anything I want you to, Dawn?" I repeated.

She gulped. She was panting hard and fast. "Y ... yes, sir. OH! Yes, sir. Anything, sir!"

"Then relax," I ordered, whispering the command directly into her ear. Her body tensed and shook. Hmmm ... I'd just discovered that her ears were an erogenous zone. "Relax and let it take you. Let me have my way with you." I felt her shoulders slump a little; my arm on her tummy felt the muscles there relax, then clench, then relax again. "I can make your body do everything I want it to," I breathed into her ear again. "I know just where to touch it ... just what to do. I can make you do ... anything."

On that word, she launched into another totally consuming orgasm, and I clenched my teeth as the fingers of one of her hands squeezed my rock-hard penis like a vise while those of her other hand gripped my hair. Her body strained up off the bed ... slammed back down and rose yet again, tension in every part of her. After I thought she might rip my hair out by the roots, I stopped rubbing her and she collapsed, limp, eyes closed, unmoving except for her heaving chest.

I rolled atop her, fitting neatly between her widely spread thighs. I lowered my lips to her ear again and whispered. "Now, Dawn. Guide me into you. Do it now." Her eyes flickered open and she grasped me, leading me toward the target, gasping audibly as she inadvertently scraped the tip across her still-engorged and overly-sensitive clit before pulling it into herself. "Your body is just the way I want it," I continued. "Wet and relaxed and open and ready. This is the way I want it, Dawn. This is the way I want you for the first time."

I pushed down and down and down. There was no resistance at all. She was very tight, but oily-slick, and in ten seconds, I was buried to the hilt. She threw her head back and moaned. "So full," she groaned. "So deeeeep! OH, SSIIIIRRRR!"

I knew right away that I wasn't going to last long. It had been almost half a year since I'd been with Rita ... or any woman, and this was one hell of a lot more than a dreamy hand job. She was superbly slick, and as if her vagina wasn't tight enough already, her inner muscles began flexing, as if trying to examine this monstrous new invader through feel. By sheer force of will, I began moving my body in slow, sensuous, purposeful thrusts into her. After four or five of these, she began meeting me with lunges of her own, arching her back and rising toward me, matching my cadence. I wanted to be tender this first time with her, and I gently tried to draw my head back until I could kiss her again, but she refused to relax her arms around my neck.

"I ... I can't ... I can't hold out very ... long, Dawn," I groaned. "I ... I'm going to ... going to ..."

"Oh, gosh, sir!" she moaned in my ear. "Oh! You're swelling, sir! You're getting even bigger! Fill me, sir! Please fill me up!"

I froze as I came, then couldn't help pounding her for several more strokes, then freezing again. I felt her squeezing me with her inner muscles. "More, sir. Please give me more." She brought one of her arms down and pressed my butt with the palm of her hand, holding me inside her. "Once more. Let me feel you give me just a little more." I strained into her, shuddering one last time.

I remained embedded in her for a long while, until I finally shrank and slipped out of her. "Oh, gosh, sir. I'm dripping. I'm going to make a puddle on the sheets."

"You seemed to be able to change the sheets without waking me up the other night," I chided. "You can't change them while you're in the bed yourself?"

She giggled while I rose and went into the bathroom for a towel. Then I went down the hall to her bedroom and took the necklace from her dresser before returning to her. She saw it in my hand, and her smile faded for a moment before returning. "It's all happening so fast, sir. Taking my mind ... taking my body. You made me want this SO much! You made me ... made me want YOU so much!" I held the crystal in front of her eager eyes. "... Made me love you so much," she droned sleepily.

And in only a few more seconds, she was under.

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

MAY 25th

I woke up twice during the night: once to discover her snuggled in my arms, one of her legs thrown over mine; and once to find that I'd nestled into her back side, my left arm draped across her body, under her arm, my hand filled with the spongy softness of one breast. But now, with the sunlight streaming in past the small gaps at the sides of the window blinds, I found her head on my chest; and while I couldn't see beyond her thick hair, I knew instinctively that I was being stroked erotically by insistent fingers. "And good morning to YOU, Dawn," I groaned.

"You get hard when you sleep, sir."

"Sleeping next to a nude girl will do that to a man."

She sighed. "Everything is so new ... So ... perfect." She stroked me a few times and giggled as I moaned.

"Are you sore?" I asked her. "If you keep doing that to me, you know that I'll have to take you again."

"That would be ... wonderful, sir." She abandoned my shaft and began tactilely investigating my testicles. 

"Get on top of me, Dawn. Do it now." I hoped that I sounded masterful enough to satisfy her obvious feelings of submissiveness. I guess I succeeded, because after a few moments' hesitation, she rolled atop me, straddling me.

"Like this, sir?"

I pushed her upright and massaged her breasts for awhile, then reached up, put my hand behind her neck and pulled her down for a long, leisurely kiss before pushing her back up again. I petted, squeezed and stroked her here and there, tweaking her large nipples and finally rubbing her slit and clitoris. She collapsed back into me when I did this, but I again positioned her just the way I wanted; and I finally used my knees and thighs to raised her body up while I maneuvered my prick into her. She sank downward, filling herself with me, throwing her head back and groaning loudly. Soon she understood, and she began rising and falling while I took advantage of the easy access to all the places I wanted to touch. It didn't take long. I'd rubbed her clit for about a minute when she came, her inner muscles clutching my shaft hard, rhythmically; milking me; and I joined her in ecstasy.

This time, when she collapsed atop me, I just held her, and the only movement was our heaving chests and my cock, which still twitched inside her every now and then. I felt a warm wetness on my neck and shoulders.

"Are you crying?" I asked, concerned. "Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?"

"You've made me love you, sir," she explained, keeping her face out of my view. "I know that this feeling is the result of a hypnotic suggestion, but that doesn't matter. It's true, nonetheless. I am really, really in love. And I know that ... that I'll lose you soon ... that you'll send me away. You will take all that I have, and you'll discard me." She shrugged. "That's just the way my life is. But ... but this time, sir ... this time, it's worth it. Oh, God, I'm happy! Thank you, sir!"

I tried not to show the utter confusion I felt. She was a big girl, but she had the security and sensitivities of an immature ten-year-old. I'd always regarded her as a bit ... off-center; but now, for the first time, I began to question her sanity. Something had happened to this woman. Something had shredded her confidence and left her utterly dependent on those near her. But no, that wasn't true, either. I had seen her act assertive and normal around others ... just not around ME. Perhaps I could be a little more logical later ... when she wasn't crying ... or nude ... or had her vagina wrapped around my deflating cock. I sighed. Later. I'd figure all this out later.

We were silent for a long, long time before I rolled us onto our sides. "Shower," I told her. "Now."

She smiled happily and kissed me lightly on the lips. "Yes, sir."

We showered together; and I took great pleasure in cleansing her huge breasts more than once; and she giggled and sighed; and she moaned on occasion, when my soapy hands wandered lower. But eventually I deemed myself sufficiently hygienic, and I left her so as to pursue duties in the kitchen. There I decided to attempt a coffee cake from scratch in honor of Sunday breakfast, and I was in the process of measuring the cinnamon for the crumb topping when she finally made her appearance. She was wearing one of my dress shirts, the long sleeves rolled up just above her wrists, the top three buttons free, the collar gapping open to show the tops of her creamy, jiggling mounds. The shirt tail hit her midway between knees and crotch, and it was very evident that she wore no panties underneath.

She blushed demurely and turned around for me. "I hope you don't mind, sir. I thought that maybe ... you'd want me to wear something that ... um ... could be easily removed."

I smiled approvingly. "You were in there an awfully long time. Were you just picking which of my shirts to wear?"

She blushed even more. "You know what I was doing, sir. I was doing what ... what you wanted me to do; what you ... suggested I should do."

I studied her intently. "The suggestion that I hypnotically implanted in you," I said.

"Yes, sir."

I nodded. "The coffee cake will be done in twenty minutes," I told her. "Go out and get the Sunday newspaper for me please."

She looked startled. "Like ... like this?" She looked down at herself, her fingers going to the third open button on the shirt.

"Exactly like that, Dawn."

She left the button undone, stood for a long time, contemplating my demand, and then she finally turned and walked to the front door. I gave her a few second before drifting in the direction of the big front bay window, and I watched as she strode steadily down the front walk to the spot the paperboy had flung the newspaper. She kept her body vertical, bending her knees to get the thing, and then she turned and started back toward the house before skidding to a sudden stop. She faced to her left (my right) and gave a little wave to someone I couldn't see, bringing her hand only shoulder-high, so that the hem of the shirt didn't ride up any more than it already was. She was speaking, but I couldn't hear her words; and then she waved again and continued into the house.

When she'd gotten inside and saw me, she couldn't help dropping the paper and running into my arms, her hands going around my neck. "Oh, sir! Someone saw me! The lady next door saw me!"

"Mrs. Wagner? My, my. She's one of the biggest gossips in town. What did she say?"

"She just smiled and said good morning. She asked me how I was. Do you think ... do you think ... um ...?"

With her arms around my neck, the hem of the shirt was pulled up almost to her waist, and I let my hands wander over her bare posterior. "What do YOU think, Dawn?"

She shuddered. "Everybody's going to know, sir! Everyone in town is going to know!"

"Know what, Dawn?"

"They're going to know that we ... um ... that we're doing it. Having sex. They're going to know that I'm in love with you, sir ... that I'm giving myself to you."

I pushed her back until we were slightly apart, and then I hooked a finger under her pert chin and lifted her face to mine. "I detest secrets," I told her softly. And I kissed her. She melted into me, parted her lips and sparred with my tongue for awhile before becoming more animated. She reached for my thickening cock. "Later," I told her firmly, almost moaning. "The old battery has to recharge."

She seemed disappointed, but (of course) followed my orders and backed away from me. We worked together in the kitchen for awhile, making the coffee and cutting up some fruit. I found yet another limit to my control over her when she refused to eat more than a small sliver of the cake, choosing fruit instead. She claimed that she had been on a diet "her entire life," and that she now had to make penance for the big dinners I had forced on her the preceding two evenings, which had resulted in a three-pound weight gain.

After breakfast, I took her into the living room, where I insisted she remove the shirt and sit nude next to me while we did the New York Times crossword puzzle together. This was my first opportunity to see the result of my "hypnotic suggestion," which had obviously been that she shave off all of her pubic hair. That made it sort of difficult for me to concentrate on the puzzle; but another surprise awaited me: she was remarkably bright. More than bright. She swore that she'd never done the Times puzzle before ... that she'd only done a few crosswords ever ... but she seemed to know almost everything. She very quickly got wrapped up in doing the thing, and she often actually clapped her hands when she figured out a group of words, much the same as my daughter would do when she was overly excited.

When it was done, I announced that she had earned a reward; and she gave a giggling shriek as I threw her back onto the cushions of the couch and buried my face in her denuded pussy, where I licked her until she screamed in erotic release. I then forced her to stand and bend over the arm of the sofa, and I took her from behind. This was the first time I'd taken her hard, slamming into her over and over, my thighs slapping loudly against her buttocks, while my hands roamed freely over her back and sides, to her breasts and nipples, down to her clit ... everywhere. I found that I could last longer this time, and it went on for awhile. She came once more before I emptied myself into her eager body.

We fell asleep on the couch afterward, and she felt very good to me, wrapped in my arms the way she was. It was dark when we finally arose, and I pan fried some leftover chicken to mix into a salad for dinner.

During the meal, I ordered her to tell me about the first lucky guy who had gotten a blow job from her; but while she talked a lot about it, she didn't really TELL me much. She had only referred to him as "Sir," and he had evidently been some sort of personal advisor in college. He had a wife, Dawn told me, as well as at least one lover ... another student. But, while ALL of her professors (and high school teachers before them) were authority figures, this was the first time she had been assigned solely to one person ... to one man. And eventually, they both discovered something startling: There was absolutely nothing that she wouldn't do for him.

For her, the revelation was deeply personal ... she thought she was in love (though now, she told me, she knew that she hadn't been. The feelings that she'd had for him were nothing like the ones she had for me now). But for him, the epiphany was something entirely different. For he realized that not only was there nothing she wouldn't do ... there was seemingly nothing she couldn't do. ("I've always been a pretty good problem-solver," she told me.) He had wanted something built for him ... something in the laboratory; which, after a period of months, she had produced for him. As soon as he had this thing, his need for her was over; and he sent her away, telling her that he not only didn't love her ... he couldn't really stand the sight of her. She was fat. She was ugly. He didn't want her anywhere near him. She had left the school ... and the state ... shortly thereafter.

The oral sex had been demanded earlier in this scenario when he was having some sort of trouble with his student girlfriend. According to him, he was angry when he found out that this girl had only been using him for purposes of scientific advancement (just as he had evidently been using Dawn). Lots of that going around in the wonderful world of academia, I guess. For her, the fellatio had just been another assignment. He ordered her to do it, and so she had. Dawn hadn't liked it ... and she got the distinct feeling that he hadn't enjoyed it all that much, either. But he had forced her to do it again the next night. And the next. She didn't know why it had ended, and she didn't question it. She knew that there had been no romance involved ... for he had never kissed her, had never held her, had rarely even touched her.




Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 02



All of this was related to me dry-eyed and sort of matter-of-factly, ending with a resigned shrug of her shoulders. She refused to tell me anything else, saying simply that nothing else really mattered. I hadn't found out what this "thing" was that she had developed, how she had done it or what it was for. But she suddenly looked very tired and very sad. I had allowed her to put my shirt back on for dinner, but I commanded her to remove it now, and I led her to bed, where we lay down and I held her close to me. We talked about the upcoming week: Tina would be back tomorrow and stay with us through Thursday now; but Rita would keep her again the following weekend while I was away on a scheduled business trip. I lost track of the conversation after that because Dawn began stroking my cock.

We made love tenderly. But, before I could fall asleep afterward, she begged me to hypnotize her. I sighed and reached for the necklace, which had now taken up residence on my bedside table. She stared at it for long seconds ... and then she sighed, closed her eyes, and surrendered her mind to me once more.

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

May 26th

It was a government holiday, but I had two important calls with overseas clients. I emerged from my office about noon to find Dawn gone, a note telling me that she'd gone shopping for groceries in town. When she finally returned about one o'clock, she ducked my kiss, dropped a bag of groceries on the counter and ran for the bathroom, where she stayed for the next three quarters of an hour. When she finally emerged from that sanctum, she was wearing a short teddy nightgown, the very picture of meek supplication, and she came to me and put her arms around me.

"What were you doing in there?" I demanded. "You were in there a long time. Are you okay?"

She blushed. "I was getting ready for you. You know what I was doing."

"I do?"

She buried her face into my chest. "Of course you do. It was your idea. You planted these wicked thoughts in my head. I dreamed about it last night. It's all I've been able to think about since I got up."

I stroked my fingers through her hair. "Ah," I said, knowingly. "So ... tell me ... how much do you know about ... doing it that way."

She shivered. "I ... I ... um ... got curious and looked it up on the internet. There were LOTS of porn sites about it, of course. But, I looked around some of the ... uh ... sexual advice websites, just to see what they said about it."

I found myself getting hard, and I shifted slightly, rubbing against her. "And what did you find out?"

"I know it's going to hurt," she replied softly. "I'm ready for that. I think it's ... the ultimate surrender. Don't you?" I was silent for a long time. "I know it's going to feel wonderful for you," she continued. "I know it's going to be really, really tight. But I can't imagine what it's going to feel like for me."

I nodded slowly. "So ... uh ... what were you doing to get yourself ready? In the bathroom, I mean."

She shivered again ... a little more violently this time. "Cleaning myself for you ... inside."

I cleared my throat. "An enema?"

This shiver was accompanied with a small moan. "Yes, sir. The website said it would be more ... um ... pleasant for you if I was clean there." Seemingly from nowhere, she produced a small bottle of feminine lubricant and gave it to me. "I got this at the pharmacy. I was SO embarrassed when I bought it. I know I was blushing. Do you think the guy at the checkout counter knew why I wanted it?"

I laughed and took the bottle, then I took her hand and led her toward the stairs and the bedroom. "There is a distinct possibility of that," I told her.

By the bed, I kissed her tenderly, then more urgently. We stripped our garments off, and she followed my instructions exactly (never guessing that I had no clue what I was doing) as I stacked several pillows in the center of the bed and bent her over them, her generous ass pointing upward and ready. I thought hard about it and guessed that the absolute worst that could happen if I used too much of the lubricant would be a small mess on the bed. Pitted against the possibility of causing her undo pain, I decided that the risk of puddles was well worth it. She moaned and groaned as I dribbled the liquid over her rump, and ran slippery hands into the crack of her ass and underneath, paying special attention to her vagina and clitoris. I guess I went a little too far with the "slow" routine, because she began begging me "please, sir, just fuck me there!" And, when I finally pressed my index finger inside her anus, she pushed herself back almost violently, impaling herself. I refused to let her have her way, though, and by the time I had finally pushed two fingers into her while rubbing her pussy with my other hand, she had such a violent orgasm that she passed out for a minute or two.

I worked my cock into her slowly while she was still a little groggy. Good Lord, she was tight! By the time I was fully embedded inside her, though, she was up on her knees and slamming herself back toward me with every one of my thrusts. When she came again, she collapsed forward, and her ass gripped me so tightly it was almost painful. I erupted into her colon, and we both screamed out our passion simultaneously. I hadn't been expecting such ... intensity. I tried to pull out of her unhurriedly, and I finally succeeded, though she attempted to "follow" upward with her ass, endeavoring to keep me inside. I pulled her into my arms, and we snuggled together, mumbling little exclamations, dozing off finally.

She shook me gently. "We need to get up, sir. Tina will be home in an hour. I need to start dinner."

I showered with her again, then helped her strip off the sheets and put them in the washer. She put on fresh ones, dressed and began fixing the meal. Three times, I came to her and put my arms around her; and each time, she turned in my arms, kissed me and told me she loved me. I hadn't been able to bring myself to return the endearment yet. I desperately needed to figure the girl out.

We heard the car in the driveway and were ready for the whirlwind of little Tina. Dawn was on her knees, listening intently to the munchkin as she explained the multitudinous adventures that had encompassed the weekend, the discussion interspersed with crushing hugs from tiny arms. Rita and I waited patiently for the ritual to wind down and the little one ran off to the playroom to revisit her favorite dolls.

"Did the two of you have fun this weekend?" my ex asked with an air of faux innocence.

Dawn didn't give even a hint of a blush. "Yes. Thanks for asking."

My former wife cocked her head slightly and regarded the babysitter. "You and I are a lot alike, Dawn."

The younger woman sighed. "Please, Rita. Believe me when I tell you that I have no animosity for you whatsoever. But, we're not alike at all."

Rita smiled, dug around in her purse for a moment, and handed something to Dawn.

"What's this?"

"It's a picture of me ... something to remember me by." And without another word, my ex opened the door and left.

Dawn gasped loudly. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to take her eyes off the photo in her hands. I strode over to her and glanced at it, recognizing it immediately. It had been taken during our honeymoon, on a beach in the Bahamas. She opened her mouth to make a comment, closed it again, and finally muttered: "She ... she's ... she's ..."

"Fat?" I ventured.

Dawn finally looked up at me. "Overweight."

"Overweight. Yes."

She looked back down at the picture. "How much weight has she lost?"

"I'm not sure," I replied honestly. "Her goal was ninety pounds, and it took her five years ... but she kept losing after that, I think. I was the one that got her going on the diet. We did it together. I lost twenty pounds myself, then worked hard to keep it off." I patted my midriff. "... until recently. We exercised together, too. I got her hooked on running, eventually."

She kept staring. "She's so beautiful now."

"Funny thing about that," I told her thoughtfully. "She changed all over. As she changed outside, she changed inside, too. Eventually, the woman I fell in love with wasn't there anymore."

And I turned and walked into the kitchen.

Tina insisted on having her babysitter put her to bed that night. Dawn came to me afterward and inquired meekly where I wanted her to spend the night, but she knew what my answer would be before she asked the question. We made love tenderly in my bed, and when it was time to go to sleep, her necklace was sitting ready on my bedside table.

--------

May 27th

I felt her body give a little jerk in my arms and it woke me up. I couldn't see past the back of her head, but I heard her say: "Hi, honey."

There was a pause before my daughter's voice answered. "You're sleeping in Daddy's bed."

"Yes."

"How come you're not sleeping in YOUR bed?"

"We decided that I'd sleep here from now on."

"Oh." There was another long pause. "Are you in love with Daddy?"

"Yes, honey. I am."

"Oh." There was yet another pause. "Are you going to be my new mommy?"

"No, honey. Only your mommy will ever be your mommy. I'm just the babysitter."

"Oh. I'm hungry. Can I have some cereal and milk?"

"Sure. Go down to the kitchen and I'll be right there, okay?"

"Okay. I don't want the milk in the cereal. I want it in a cup."

"Alright, honey. See you there."

I heard the patter of little feet scurry out the door and down the stairs. Dawn turned in my arms and kissed me. "Do you always tell little four-year-olds the truth?" I asked.

"I always tell everybody the truth," she said simply; and she was gone.

I had arranged for two hours free (beginning at 12:30, when Tina got home from preschool) so I could take them both out to the restaurant where I'd first met Dawn, down near the pier. As an afterthought, I'd made her wear her necklace, telling her that there was always the possibility that I'd hypnotize her in public ... a concept that seemed to both terrify and thrill her. Wearing it had an unintended consequence, though. John Wiggin, the village jeweler, stopped by our table and begged to get a closer look at the thing. She didn't take it off, and I wasn't entirely sure that the 70-year-old codger wasn't just trying to look down her cleavage. But he seemed to have eyes only for the necklace.

"They don't make fine box chains like this anymore," he gushed. "And the setting is especially nice. This must be at least two carats ... or is it more?"

"I don't know," Dawn said. "It belonged to my mother. And her mother before that."

"Exquisite. A perfect clear pear. 'E' at least. Possibly 'D.' If you ever desire to have it appraised, will you come to me? I'd love to examine it properly."

I didn't think he'd ever leave. "Just a crystal?" I asked pointedly.

But she was preoccupied helping Tina use various crayons on her specialty place mat. She shrugged. "That's all Mommy ever called it. Her crystal. She said that staring at it would 'take her away at night.' That's what gave me the idea to use it for self hypnosis." She shrugged yet again. "Who knows? Maybe it has magical properties."

The three of us played a toddler-board game that evening after dinner, and when I'd finished reading to Tina and put her to bed, I came to find Dawn in the teddy nightgown at the dining table, lost in reverie in front of my laptop. It was a porn page that outlined the 100 best sexual positions, and she wanted to try one. Neither of us possessed adequate strength, dexterity or stamina, however; and we wound up in a tangle of arms and legs, laughing hysterically. I sat back down at the computer with her perched on my lap, and we scrutinized other possibilities while my hands idly played with her nipples. Finally, she simply decided to reverse directions while I stayed seated in the chair, which had a relatively narrow seat and was thus perfect for some face-to-face sex. I was especially deep inside her in this position, and we were both concerned that her moans might wake up my daughter ... but somehow we made it through the ordeal.

When we went to bed, I forgot about the necklace until she begged me to use it on her.

To Be Continued.



Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 03



May 28th

Tina came rushing into my office, too eager with suppressed information to heed my warnings about the room being "off-limits." The babysitter, who had just walked with her all the way from preschool, was hot on her trail in an attempt to corral the little filly, but she was running a distant second. "It's her birthday!" my daughter squealed. "It's Dawn's birthday!" And so (I learned, after a bit of pointed interrogation) it was. Number twenty-three.

The three of us wandered into the village together after I finished for the day, and Dawn took her leave from us so I could help Tina pick out the perfect gift. We met up with her again half an hour later outside the grocery store, where I had just purchased a carton of ice cream and one of those mini-cakes with a generic "Happy Birthday" inscribed on top. "It's perfume!" Tina announced loudly, waving a plastic sack. "But you can't see it until after it's wrapped because it's a surprise!" Dawn swore that she would certainly be surprised. She, for her part, had purchased another blouse and slacks ensemble, plus something in a bag from the nautical store.

We stopped for a carry-out pizza on the way home and rented a short cartoon movie. Tina wrapped the perfume herself (it wound up being more tape than gift paper), and Dawn ... following a minute-long ordeal unwrapping it ... played the part of surprised recipient very well. My gift to her was a small, ornately carved wooden box ... for her necklace, I told her.

It took awhile to get Tina down that night (undoubtedly due to the sugar high from the cake and ice cream), but Dawn and I were finally alone. I had packed my suitcase while Dawn had read the nightly book to my daughter and put her to bed. I was due in Amsterdam for a Saturday meeting, but the airline had cancelled the Thursday evening flight, and my office had rescheduled me for one earlier in the day. I'd have to leave the house in the morning. She came to me, hugged me, demurely accepted my tender kiss, and told me that her day had been perfect. I asked her if she was going to use the box for the necklace.

"The necklace belongs to you now, sir. Everything that was mine is now yours. I have freely given you all that I own ... all that I have ... all that I am."

I put my arms around her. I was getting used to the weirdness, but she still surprised me. "Don't be absurd," I told her gently. "I am a great proponent of women's issues. Even if you DO take this subservient attitude with me, I refuse to accept it ... especially when it comes to your possessions."

She seemed to work her body further into mine, her arms around my waist. She shrugged and sighed. "I regret to inform you, sir, that your attitude is superfluous. It simply doesn't matter to me. I belong to you now. I will continue to belong to you until you tire of me and send me away."

"Dawn ..."

"And so, now the box is yours, too. But ... if you really want to give me a gift, could I request one? It's all I really want. Please, sir?"

I drew away from her enough to see her face, and I gazed at her with my sternest countenance. "This conversation is NOT over. We will discuss this when I get back from my trip. I am NOT going to have you dictate some sort of hierarchical order in MY household and ..."

She smiled up at me, then she lowered her face to my chest and hugged me fiercely. "Of course, sir. I'll do anything you ask. Anything at all."

I sighed. I was holding an enigma in my arms. "Very well, then," I said levelly. "I will grant you one birthday wish. Anything you want. What is it?"

"I want you to let me call you Master," she told me simply.

The request staggered me. I sat down hard on the edge of the bed, thinking. She let go of me when I did that, of course; then she started to sit next to me in order to recapture our broken physical intimacy; but she finally just stood there before me, her gaze submissively downward, her arms at her sides, waiting. How had all this happened so quickly? Two weeks before, I was an emotional cripple over the loss of a wife through divorce; and today I was ... what ...? A master to a sex slave? At what point should I call it quits with all of this? When should I simply end this little game? But ... I hadn't solved the puzzle yet. How had such a concept as emotional slavery become so ingrained in Dawn's psyche? I had to figure this out. Perhaps just a little while longer.

"Very well," I told her; and she looked up at me sharply, a huge smile on her face. "But with one restriction." Her bright countenance didn't fade, but she cocked her head in question. "You may only call me that while you are naked," I continued. "Is that agreed?"

In fifteen seconds flat, every shred of clothing she wore lay in a heap on the floor, and she was on her knees at my feet. She threw her arms around my legs and put her head on my lap. "Yes, Master. Thank you SO much, Master." I reached down and stroked her hair, contemplating this, when she said softly: "I got what you wanted in town today, Master. Do you want it now? Do you want me now?"

She couldn't see my expression. "What did you get?"

"You know," she answered softly. "You put the suggestion in my head. I've been thinking about it all day."

I let out a long, silent breath. "Sure. Go get it."

Dawn sprang up and raced from the room, her breasts bouncing wildly, and she returned almost immediately with the plastic sack I had seen earlier from the nautical store in the village. I took it and pulled out the contents. Rope. Soft, nylon rope, about three-quarters of an inch thick. I soon discovered that it had been cut into four lengths of about three feet each, and the ends had been expertly melted so as not to unravel. She stood before me now, shivering slightly in anticipation, her hands held out in my direction, her wrists together.

I had never been a very good Boy Scout. After studying the various parts to this very simple quandary, I dropped three of the sections of rope on the bed and began tying her up with the remaining one. Then I untied it and tried crossing her wrists first. I wrapped a couple times in one direction then the other; and I tied the whole thing off with a couple half hitches. That should hold her. But ... hold her to what? After all of that, I only had about nine inches of rope left to work with. I caught her grinning at me, and when I gave her a scowl, she broke out in laughter. Ah ... wait a minute ... I had an idea. I tied another length to the end of the rope I'd just finished with, then ordered her to lie down on her back on the bed, which she scampered to do after regaling me with another "Yes, Master!"

There was no place to tie a rope on that headboard, so I endeavored to slip my hand down between the mattress and wood to attempt to tie it directly to the lower frame. I couldn't seem to make it work in the given space, but I finally figured that I could loop it around the frame; then I untied the other end again and looped it through her bound wrists. That did it. No way was she getting out of that! She struggled a bit, testing it; and she beamed up at me in approval. The feet were pretty simple, and soon, her legs were bound widely spread-eagle while her wrists were together and restrained above her head.

Triumphantly, I shed my clothes and went to work. I lay heavily atop her, kissing her for a long, long time, until her breathing became raspy and her hips began undulating against me. Then I moved to her breasts. By now, I knew just what she really liked ... and just what she really loved. I was still in the teasing phase, however, and when she was just getting to the point of begging, I licked my way down to her smooth nether region. Again I teased mercilessly while her hips strained up at me, then I reversed my efforts: back to her breasts again, then back to her lips. But this time, when I began kissing her, I reached down and worked my cock into her slippery passage. Now she was really getting into it, but I stopped (much to her disappointment) after only a dozen thrusts into her wet, slippery passage. And down I went again. I licked her for a couple minutes, then thrust into her while kissing her for awhile, then back down, then back up, over and over, stopping for little sessions on her nipples every time I encountered them. To my delight, I was able to keep the torture up for almost a full half hour.

Both of her orgasms were while I was licking her. After the second, I treated myself to simply fucking her ... slowly at first ... and then my thrusts into her became faster and harder ... and faster still ... and harder still ... and I exploded, driving deeply into her until she screamed hoarsely up at the ceiling while I clutched her and shivered ecstatically. I collapsed on her, drifting in afterglow, until her pleading whispers disturbed my somnambulant reverie. "Please, Master. Take my mind now. Please."

With a sigh, I reached over and picked up her (my?) necklace, and I dangled it just above her face. In ten seconds, I knew that her mind was my prisoner, as well.

Later, I couldn't get comfortable. Stretched out the way she was, she was taking up the whole bed. I got up and untied her; then I snuggled up to her the way I did every night now, and I drifted off to sleep.

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

May 29th

After breakfast, I kissed my two ladies goodbye and hit the road for Boston. For some unfathomable reason, getting through the security checkpoint at Logan was very quick and completely painless. But air travel will always result in problems, and so I wasn't overly surprised to learn of a two-hour delay. Then, after boarding, Air Traffic Control held us for two more hours due to weather in the vicinity. By the time I got through customs at Heathrow, my connecting flight to Amsterdam was long gone. I found a hotel room. Daytime flights to Europe are a treat. It's much easier to go to bed earlier than normal (U.S. time) than it is to arrive in the morning, sleep-deprived from an all-nighter.

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

May 30th

My watch said it was three in the morning when I got my wake-up call at eight. There was about the normal degree of hassle getting back to the airport and through security. I finally got to my hotel room in the Dutch capital (with an "a," though it's not the capitol, with an "o") by early evening. I tried to call Dawn, but she didn't answer. I phoned for room service and went over my presentation for the next day. Another call to Dawn before I went to bed went unanswered as well.

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

May 31st

I spent the whole morning doing training, with a big presentation just after a catered lunch. The company chief exec was supposed to be the recipient of my little talk, but he'd been called away on a family emergency. As it all turned out, the whole trip was unnecessary (as is the case all too often). The decision to go with our company's advanced package had been made days before, and the marketing director and I signed a letter of agreement to make it official. I had been scheduled to go out with the CEO that evening, but now that he was gone, just about everyone wanted to get on with their interrupted weekend; and so I was free at about three o'clock.

On a whim, I got online and studied available flights home. There was one to Shannon (on the west coast of Ireland) that evening, and I could connect with a flight to Boston in the early morning. Fortunately, the gift shop in the hotel was still open, so I bought a Little Mermaid doll for Tina. In the cab, I called home again. Dawn was there this time, and halfway through the call, she started calling me Master. I asked if she was cheating, and she insisted that she had removed all her clothes while she was talking to me ... "Isn't that okay, Master? Please?" As long as no one else is in the room, I answered; and she giggled delightedly. She missed me terribly, she said. She needed me. She loved me. I asked her where she had been the day before when I called. "You know," she answered demurely. "You put the idea in my head. It was your suggestion. I couldn't do it here, so I had to take the bus to Portland. I hope you like it." I thought about that for awhile. I told that I was sure I would.

In Shannon, I got a cryptic text message from Ronald Swartz. It took me awhile to place the name. He was the president of the town bank ... I'd met him at a couple parties. He wanted me to call him, but it was too late today, I decided. I got a room and slept for about five hours before I got up and went back to the airport.

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

June 1st

Shannon is a relatively small international airport, and things went very smoothly. Despite six and a half hours in the air, it was still morning when we landed in Boston, thanks to the time zone changes. I turned on my phone again as the shuttle van was taking me to the long term parking lot at Logan and found another text message from Swartz. Urgent that you call me right away ... call me at home, it said. I dialed the number he'd provided when I got to my car.

"Look, Reggie ..." he said after a brief pause. (I heard a door being closed, and I assumed he'd gone into another room for privacy. This meant that he didn't want his family to overhear.) "You've got that Hernandez girl living with you in your home, right?" I was shocked to realize that I'd never known her last name. To say it didn't "fit" would be an understatement. Teri (Dawn's cousin) certainly didn't look Hispanic; though, of course, that didn't mean anything.

"What's this all about, Ron?" I said in a voice that was cooler than I'd intended.

He backpedaled quickly. "I don't mean anything by that, Reggie. Honest. It's just that she tried to make two big deposits into your personal account on Saturday just before we closed. She started arguing with one of my tellers, so I took her into my office to try and straighten it out. She really knew her stuff. Started spouting state and federal banking regulations to me ... verbatim. I was just trying to protect YOU! At best, it's going to force you into an IRS audit. And ... it doesn't look good for the bank, transactions like this!"

I was silent for several long seconds. "How much are we talking about here, Ron?"

"She wanted to drain her personal account with us and transfer it to yours. That was a little over two thousand. But then there was a second party check for seven hundred."

I took a breath. "Seven hundred dollars?"

"Seven hundred thousand, Reggie." He let that sink in. "I know the check is good ... it's from a major insurance company. If SHE kept it, there wouldn't be a serious tax implication. Well, as long as she could prove it was part of an estate settlement. But in YOUR account, you'd have to claim it as income. You'd lose more than a fourth of it to taxes." He paused, waiting for me to comment. When I didn't, he rushed on. "She didn't seem to care about that at all! Claimed it was your money now, taxes be damned. Started spouting off regulations that gave her the right to give the money to whomever she pleased. I finally, finally convinced her to deposit it in her own account until the check cleared. That should happen on Tuesday. I wanted to make sure you knew about all of this before that happened. Plus, like I said, it doesn't look good for the bank. I don't really know who this girl IS ... or what she wants. She's obviously not a local ... and big insurance companies HAVE been suckered into laundering schemes."

I cleared my throat. "Thanks, Ron. I appreciate the call. I'll handle it from here." It was obvious that he didn't enjoy being summarily dismissed, but he accepted that, said goodbye and hung up.

I was home in another two hours. I was setting my bags down and closing the front door when I heard her on the stairs behind me, and as I turned, she was in my arms. She gasped and jerked away from me a little, but then she made a funny little noise as she nestled into me again. "You ... you're home early!" she accused.

"Please tell me that there isn't another man in my bed," I told her seriously. She laughed at that, stopped herself when she realized the sort of implication that had from my past, but she couldn't stop herself from laughing again.

"Oh, sir! Oh, gosh, sir, I missed you!" She shifted in my arms again, straining away a little.

"What is the MATTER with you?" I barked, grasping her by the shoulders and holding her at arm's length.

She blushed furiously and looked down, embarrassed. "You know, sir."

I let my mouth form a grim line. "Show me."

She was wearing one of her over-sized sweatshirts, which was stained and wet. (She had dropped a pair of rubber gloves on the hardwood floor just before she hugged me, and I assumed she had been cleaning bathrooms.) Without further prompting, she grasped the lower part of the garment and pulled it over her head, and then she began fiddling with some things on her chest. They were some sort of foam rubber thingies that were stuck to her breasts, all around the nipples, and she took great care in peeling them off. When she was done, I observed that her nipples had been pierced from side to side, and bright metal rings skewered her fat tits. Another ring of the same metal was attached to each, like two links of a chain. She took a deep breath, and I heard a very faint clinking sound, so I assumed that they were made from stainless steel or some other very hard metal. It sounded like two small keys jangling on a keychain.

She studied my face, then she put the back of her hand to her mouth. "Oh my gosh! You don't like them! They're just as I saw them in my mind, and so I thought this was what you wanted! Oh, sir!"

Alright ... please forgive me as I retreat from this scene for a little philosophical speculation. I am assuming that as each one of us reaches old age, there will be a time when we look back on our lives and try to determine which moments were the most important. Beyond any doubt, this particular instant was one of mine. And more to the point, I recognized it as such. Something deep down inside me told me that I should measure my response very, very carefully.

If you haven't already guessed it, I had never hypnotized Dawn. Oh, I had dangled the little gem in front of her face each night ... and I had watched as she dropped into deep slumber ... but I had never actually hypnotized her; never implanted any thoughts; never given her any suggestions about ANYTHING. The new clothes and hairdo, the sex, the shaved pubic area, her love for me, the anal coupling, exotic positions, the bondage ... none of it was my doing. She had thought it all up on her own. Perhaps she had visited some internet porn sites in search of favorite male fantasies and had somehow come to believe that I had theses flights of imagination, as well. But in reality, none of it had ever come from me.

Unlike Dawn, I am a huge fan of psychology. I apply it to my job, and it has rarely let me down. I believe that there is an underlying reason for practically everything we do. Take my dear ex-wife, for instance. She had very low self esteem when I met her; and, loving her, I endeavored to help her improve because she WANTED to improve. I hadn't counted on the possibility that as she slimmed down and reclaimed her lost beauty, she might suddenly decide that she now had a chance to be part of what Dawn had called the "ins." She can be popular now. She has a reason to believe that she can live a life that nature had previously denied her. We HAD been in love once; of that I was sure. We had laughed together, made plans together and struggled together. Oh, how we had struggled ... through my long hours of work putting her through grad school, and then HER long hours during the internship. We had been poor, busy and happy. But apparently, it had only been a start in her life ... a springboard to something else.




Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 03



Dawn was still a question mark. I didn't know what drove her. It was now obvious that she had always been denied the things in life every woman wants. Love, sex, intimacy, desire; this was the first time any of them had ever been within her grasp. And, since I hadn't been proactive enough to suggest these things, her subconscious had done it for me ... yet it had also given her the impression that everything was my doing. But it went much further. The submissive attitude, the need for domination and constant direction ... where had it all come from?

I had always been a little bit on the conservative side when it came to body piercing. Oh, a pair of earrings is nice, I suppose; but beyond that, I saw it as a form of self-mutilation; and in the past, I think that my first reaction to seeing any form of it (lips, tongue, nose, etc) had been slight revulsion. What I was on the cusp of doing right now was putting a stop to ALL of this folderol. I really liked Dawn, and I especially liked what we were doing ... the sex, of course, but the intimacy most of all. No ... I loved this girl! Yes, by God, I loved her! And as an added benefit, she was a girl who really loved ME. (Why did I need that so badly?) But, I had been lying to her all this time ... or at the very least, withholding the truth. Now, she had done something I didn't particularly like.

I still hadn't solved this riddle that was Dawn. I REALLY wanted to tell her the truth ... ALL of it. But ... should I tell her my true feelings about this right now? Would it solve anything? Would it help me understand her, or would I be using it only as an opportunity. Was it just selfishness on my part? For whatever reasons, I made a choice.

"Dawn ... um ... it's not what you think. They're ... uh ... great! I'm just concerned that you're in pain. They're really ... sexy. But it must hurt a lot."

The worry melted from her features. "Oh, sir ... do you really like them? They hurt like the dickens yesterday, but there was almost no pain today ... until I hugged you. It's just that they're ... always THERE, you know? I think that's what they're really designed for ... making a woman remember something sexual ... all the time ... every second. Oh, gosh, sir ... I missed you SO much! Do you think we could ... um ... I mean ... Would you like me to ... uh ... do something for you? I could ...? I mean, I would do ... ANYTHING for you, sir!"

I laughed and grasped her shoulders again, turning her away from me so I could wrap my arms around her without fear of touching her nipples. She leaned back against me while I worked on the button of her jeans. "I want you naked, woman. Now."

She giggled and bent to peel off the last of her clothing, then straightened and pushed her back into me, resting her arms on mine as they snaked around her waist. "Now I can call you my Master again," she sighed. I led her upstairs and stripped out of my travel clothes, stretching out on my back in the center of the bed. She mounted me and rode me slowly while I stroked and squeezed her breasts, never actually coming into contact with the nipples or the rings. She was very turned on. After a minute or two, she picked up the pace, bouncing down on me hard. I let go of her globes and put my hands on her waist, slowing her down, forcing her to set up the cadence I wanted; and, of course, she complied immediately. Her huge mounds began an almost liquid undulation, the little rings clattering quietly, and I found the sight mesmerizing. I touched her in the places that I knew would shatter any remaining control she had, and she responded as I expected, gasping, moaning. A few minutes of inscribing circles around her clitoris with my fingertip brought on a moaning, screaming orgasm, and I was glad Tina wasn't with us, giving us the freedom to make as much noise as we wanted. When I came, it was soul-shattering.

Afterward, she lay in my arms and told me about her ordeal in the tattoo/piercing parlor in Portland (which she'd found through careful research online; four-star feedback, she told me). She said that the whole experience had been excruciatingly embarrassing ... much worse than the actual pain from the piercing. She had been instructed that "posts" were more popular right now, but rings were recommended for first-timers because they caused less inflammation after the procedure. She had to soak her nipples in saline solution twice a day for a week, leave them open to the air as much as possible, and I wasn't supposed to suck or pull on them for at least two weeks. She was immensely proud of them, and her sense of sacrifice melted my heart.

We rested, and eventually, she fell asleep; but the travel (and my jumbled thoughts) had me wide awake; so I gently extricated myself from her and put on some clothes. I needed some sort of plan of attack to get to the bottom of things, and I decided that a cup of coffee couldn't hurt. As I passed her room, however (her old room, that is ... the one she had occupied before I demanded that she spend her nights with me), I heard a strange, slow, rhythmic beeping, and I went in to investigate. It turned out to be her cell phone, protesting that the battery was down to a one percent charge. I rummaged through her dresser until I found the charging cord, and I took it into my office and plugged it in. A half hour later, I was back in my office again with a large mug of coffee, intending to look into the insurance company that issued that mysterious check; but instead, I found myself investigating her phone. It was blinking madly, and a little exploration (with a phone I wasn't familiar with) revealed that she had five missed calls, five voicemails and two dozen unread text messages. There was only one phone number programmed into its directory: "Work." While I was examining it, it rang.

"Hello?"

"Who ...? Who IS this!? Where is Doctor Hernandez?"

That gave me reason for pause, but I answered fairly quickly, in spite of it. "Say ... I have an idea. Why don't we start this conversation over. You called me, so you should identify yourself first. Etiquette, and all that."

"You won't strong-arm ME, sir!" the caller screamed. "Where is Dr. Hernandez? I'll have you know that you are interfering with matters of national security!"

I laughed loudly at that as I disconnected the call. Idiot. Only politicians and screenwriters used that line. Not even the men and women at DHS say that. The phone rang again immediately.

"This is Dr. Jameson. I'm the Head of Projects for Applied Sciences in the University of California System. I want to speak to Dr. Hernandez." I could hear the strain in his voice.

"Alright now, Doc. Much better. I'm Reggie Torrance. Please ... call me Reggie. And I'll just call you ..." I let the sentence hang.

"Listen to me you ...!" 

And I hung up on him. It was almost a full minute before it rang again. "Reggie," he said in a terse voice, "I am George. May I please speak to Dawn Hernandez? She was supposed to call us several days ago, but failed to do so."

"Dawn isn't taking your call today, George," I told him very politely. "It might have something to do with the gizmo that she invented and then you stole from her. Or, perhaps it has something to do with the way you controlled her psychologically, or the way you demanded ... and received ... sexual favors. It might have been the way you took everything you wanted from her and then kicked her out of your establishment and sent her packing across the country. Yes ... that might be the reason she wound up hopelessly depressed, severely suicidal and completely unable to function in society." 

There was a strange sound from the other end, and for a moment, I wondered if perhaps he was having a heart attack. I found myself considering whether I would find that distressing, and I decided I would not. "I ... I ... had no idea, I swear," he stammered. "It wasn't me! I didn't do that!" There was a pause. "Oh, God. I didn't know ... but I should have. I was responsible. It was my project."

"George," I said genially, "I do believe that we're getting somewhere now. Let's play twenty questions, shall we? Keep it very brief. What did she invent? And don't tell me that I won't understand. Just tell me."

I heard his deep sigh. "It's a module for a long-distance Martian surface explorer. You see, two dozen universities around the world are ..."

"Yes, yes ... political budget cuts," I interrupted. "Put the scientific R&D burden on the universities. I know the drill. WHAT module?"

I must have beaten him into submission. He answered automatically. "Navigation."

"And you gave the assignment for that little project to ...?" When he didn't answer right away, I prodded. "Come on, George. You couldn't have given it to HER. There must have been a senior staff professor involved. Who is the villain in this little drama?"

"Dr. Werner Bielman," he said dully. "He isn't employed by the University System anymore. It took me about a week to realize that the module wasn't his, even though he'd already patented it. He was demanding a million dollars for it ... but he couldn't even explain simple differences between the blueprints and the hardware ... didn't even know how to turn the thing on ... and the software sequences were completely beyond him! I got our legal department involved to nullify the patent and have him fired. I only then found out about the investigations into allegations for sexual harassment from various female students and faculty members ... and the gambling debts. He fled the state. If ... if she wants to press charges of some sort, I can try to find out where he went."

"What she wants, George, is to be left alone."

This seemed to fire up his previous indignation. "So you can have her to yourself!" he spat. "Who do you work for? A private lab? Beltway bandit? What do you have her doing?"

"Actually, she's currently babysitting my four-year-old daughter."

He made a few sputtering sounds into the phone. "You ... you can't be serious! Just from my conversations with her over the past few weeks, I've come to realize that Dr. Hernandez possesses one of the most acute scientific minds I've ever encountered! You can't possibly shutter such raw mental talent!"

"Funny thing about mental talent, George ... It's been my experience that scientific minds aren't particularly acute when they're dead. And she came pretty damned close." I gave him awhile to let that sink in. "Now ... tell me why she's so important to you. You already have her module."

He cleared his throat nervously. "We have the device ... and even though we know it works ... we have a LOT of questions about HOW it works. It took me awhile to figure out that Doctor ... that Dawn was responsible for it. You see, when I made her appointment to Bielman, it was understood that the assignment would be in lieu of her doctoral thesis." 

"Very smart," I said levelly. "If she was the one who came up with it, you could easily convince her that the rights were to be retained by the university."

"No! I mean ... I guess, in a way. It was Bielman's project! But ..." He sighed. "Reggie, I really had no idea that he'd ... I mean, I'd heard some rumors about womanizing, but ... I mean, I didn't think that Dawn ... What I'm trying to say is that Dawn isn't very ..."

"Attractive?"

"I was going to say desirable. That sounds so lame. Oh, God, what have I done?"

"What you've done, George, among other things, is provide me with a few answers. Thank you for that, anyway. Please don't attempt to contact Dawn again. If it is HER wish, she'll contact you. Goodbye." I disconnected the call, turned the device over, took off the back and figured out how to remove the battery. I heard a toilet flush somewhere, indicating that my babysitter was now awake, and I left the pieces of the cell phone in a heap on my desk while I went to find her.

She was coming out of the bathroom attached to our bedroom when she saw me. She'd put on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, and I could see the outline of the rings through the material. She came to me and wrapped her arms around me, hesitating only a little as her breasts pressed into my chest. "Oh, sir ... our ... nap was wonderful." She sighed. "Sir ... do you think I'm a slut? My mother told me once that sex hurts ... but that it was a duty ... something that a wife had to do, and that's all. I didn't think any man would ever want to do it to me. But ... now ... now, it's all I seem to be able to think about. I never thought it would feel so good, or that it would be ... fun!" She stiffened, suddenly realizing that I was not returning her hug. She pulled away quickly and stared up into my serious face. "What is it, sir? What's wrong?"

"We need to have a talk, Dawn. I want to discuss something important."

"Oh, my gosh!" she exclaimed softly. "It's time, isn't it?"

"Time?"

"You're going to send me away, aren't you? You've gotten tired of me, and you want me to leave, don't you?" She was silent for several seconds. "Sir ... thank you SO much for letting me love you this long!"

"Enough!" I barked loudly. She jumped, then lowered her gaze and stood before me, arms at her sides, silent, meek. I tried to get my thoughts in order. I knew I had all the pieces of the puzzle now, and I had to steel myself to play my part in this final act. "Strip!" I commanded.

She looked up, baffled. "What?"

"Get nude. Now. Do it." She rushed to do my bidding, wincing as she pulled the tee shirt over her breasts. She regained the same pose, sans clothes. "Go down to my office," I commanded harshly. "Sit in the chair in front of the desk. Go."

She hurried from the room. After the first two steps, she reached up with both hands and cupped her breasts, trying to keep them from bouncing and putting strain on her nipples. I watched her for a few moments, then went over and picked up the necklace and put it in my pocket. Downstairs, I pulled my executive desk chair around to face the one she was sitting in. I sat down and pushed mine until we were as close together as we could possibly be while facing each other. Her eyes were uncertain and frantic. A single tear slid down her cheek from the corner of her left eye, but she didn't reach up to wipe it off.

"Who am I to you?" I asked sternly.

She blinked. "Sir ... Master ... You are my Master."

"I will ask you questions. You will give me answers. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"You have not always answered all my questions."

"I ... I'm sorry, Master."

"Who is Dr. Jameson?"

She blinked, confused. "Dr. Jameson? He's ... He's just a ... He's an advisor. He's in charge of school projects. Not just at my school ... for the university system."

I nodded, satisfied. I could sense from her expression that she realized that I had already known that ... that I was just testing her. "And what, exactly, is the device you invented? Explain it to me."

"It's a navigation system for a long range Martian surface vehicle," she answered. I made a motion with one hand, indicating that I wanted her to keep going. "Are you familiar with ring laser gyros?" she asked.

"Give me the short course. Explain it quickly."

She paused to think. "Any three-dimensional stabilization system will have three gyroscopes going simultaneously, 90-degrees off-axis from each other. Since the early 1990's, navigation systems utilize gyros made from laser beams that are each bounced around a set of three mirrors. A beam is timed in its circuit around the mirrors ... and then later, any difference in that time is perceived as motion in that axis."

She leaned forward toward me, her elbows on her knees and she used her hands to gesture, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was naked. She was really into her explanation, and she obviously forgot to call me Master. "There are two basic errors inherent in any gyro system: initialization and precession. During initialization, a platform ... like an aircraft ... is kept parked, very still. When the gyros are up to speed and stable, at least one of them ... and possibly all three, depending on direction and attitude ... will sense motion. That's the motion of the planet spinning on its axis. To correct that 'error,' you have to enter the precise three-dimensional location of the platform. Commercial pilots enter a very exact latitude and longitude ... and then they enter their precise altitude. If you null out all the motion based on those coordinates, then any motion sensed after that will be the movement of the vehicle itself. That motion is transcribed into a mapping program and you always know exactly where you are. Make sense?"

I nodded and she went on. "Here on earth, we have a very uniform way of defining altitude ... we base it on average, or mean, sea level. But there ARE no oceans on Mars. Instead, they use a topographical datum ... which is difficult to program into a nav system. Our earth nav computers were never meant to deal with Mars' size or rotational speed. We use the same type of Lat-Long grid for Mars, but the size of the grid squares is obviously VERY different. Also, we accept that there will be SOME inherent errors in gyros as time goes on ... that's precession. Today, we can update our systems using global positioning and correct for precession. But once again, there ARE no GPS satellites orbiting Mars."

"So how did you solve your problems," I asked.

"I did it through triple competing-yet-complimentary software arrays running simultaneously on separate processors which triangulate and average out the errors based on known terrain locations." 

"Okay, Dr. Hernandez, you've convinced me. Now, who is Dr. Bielman?"

She looked down inadvertently, then forced herself to meet my gaze again. "Dr. Bielman was the man I told you about at dinner last week. Dr. Bielman was Sir. He was my last Sir."

"But he wasn't your FIRST Sir, was he, Dawn?" She blinked and shook her head very slowly while I continued. "Your first Sir was your father, wasn't he?"

She was wide-eyed and scared. She didn't want these memories anymore. She opened her mouth, shut it again. She swallowed, then answered very softly: "Yes, Master."

"And he was 'Sir' to your mother, too. Wasn't he? Your little 'problem with authority' is too well ingrained to be recent. You've lived this way for a long, long time. Plus ... it wasn't adapted ... it was learned. It was your mother who taught you how to cope, living with him. What was it like, existing with them in that home?"

She shrugged as if her childhood hell was no big deal. "I was ... busy. I didn't come to this country until I was seven. Almost immediately, I was put to work. The weekends were devoted to the church, beginning on Friday afternoon and going until Sunday evening. Plus Wednesday nights. I served food, did dishes, cleaned. All the other times, I worked in the hospital ... the church hospital ... doing "volunteer work" every day. Bed pans, laundry, washing sheets and doing floors."

"And your father forced you to do these things? What kind of man was he?"

She smiled at that. "He was devout. Atheists might use the word 'gullible.' Whatever the case, he wholeheartedly believed that it was necessary to keep me and mommy ... and all women ... in our place."

"And what place was that?"

She looked up at me mildly. "For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything." 

I gawked at her, but she continued. "Of the woman came the beginning of sin, and through her we all die." She took a breath. "Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are commanded to be under obedience, as also saith the law. And if they will learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at home: for it is a shame for women to speak in the church." She paused for a second. "For the man is not of the woman; but the woman of the man. Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man." She contemplated me lightly. "Would you like me to keep going, Master?"




Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 03



I took a ragged breath and found that my hands were shaking. "I ... I had no idea. All of this ... this 'Master' and 'Sir' stuff is the result of your Christian beliefs?"

She laughed and shook her head, but then her eyes shifted slightly, as if the comment had elicited inspiration. She shrugged. "I don't think I've ever really had faith, Master. Not like they all did. But, the idea has been there a long, long time. Even as a seven and eight year old ... before I began having ideas of sex and relationships, I would lie in bed and dream of my future mate. I suppose that's normal, to some extent. But while normal girls dream of teen heartthrobs, I always assumed that I would someday submit completely to someone who was chosen for me by the church elders. MY dreams ... were all of YOU, Master."

"ME?"

She laughed again. "No, not specifically of you. Of a man LIKE you. Kind. Supportive. Protective." She actually shivered with an over-excited thought. "Yes ... that, most of all. Someone to protect me ... from the taunts of others ... from the harsh realities of the world ... and later, from my own horrifyingly prurient thoughts. Oh, how the idea of sex excited me!" She shuddered again. "I KNEW I had no faith when I moved away from the church, to Thousand Oaks. But the nightly dreams remained ... the thought of finding a kind man to submit to, like Mommy submitted to Sir ... the thought of a man who would dominate me completely, like Sir did Mommy ... and protect me."

"This church of yours wasn't in California?"

"The church compound was in the desert, near Joshua Tree. I was sent to Thousand Oaks when I was fourteen. There was a big scandal in the church ... it was being investigated for various things, including violation of child labor laws and truancy requirements. The Prophet ... the head of the church ... was trying to reduce the number of adopted girls in the compound. He had taken three of them as his wives ... though they weren't married under state law, of course. I was never ... desirable to him. But, he convinced my parents that it would be best to send me away ... to live with Aunt Dorothy ... Mommy's sister."

"Teri's mother?"

"Yes. That was heaven ... being in a normal home, going to normal schools. She lived alone when I arrived. Teri had already moved out ... so there were no men there ... no Sirs. I spent every day in the library ... every single day. Heaven. I missed Mommy, though."

"But she was the one who taught you how to be submissive ... subservient ... to always do as you are told," I accused. "There probably would have been no 'Sir' if it hadn't been for her."

"Please don't hate her! She doesn't deserve hate! She was wonderful!"

"But she was weak. Weak, like you."

"Please, Master. I loved her! I always loved her!"

I suddenly had a real problem staying in character. The fact that her sentence was in the past tense threw me. Maybe I DIDN'T have it all figured out, after all. "She's dead? Is the life insurance payment for her?"

She gave me a brief questioning look but answered immediately anyway. "No, the insurance was just for him. He never even thought about insuring HER. They died together ... in Southern Mexico ... in some fighting between the military and one of the cartels. More than a hundred people died in that village. Sir and Mommy were just there ministering and doing other business for the church. That was three months ago."

"Before or after Bielman sent you away?"

"Almost at the same time. Just after."

"Tell me the truth, Dawn ... If it had been before, would you have given the money to Bielman ... your 'Sir' at the time?"

"I didn't KNOW about the money then, Master. I only just now found out about it. There were instructions from Sir ... from Daddy. He wanted to make sure I gave it all to the church. But the church just folded. The Prophet died two months ago, and his two sons were indicted for racketeering, drug dealing and money laundering, using the church as a base. The Federal Government confiscated all the assets. There was no church left TO give it to." She shifted nervously. "But ... in answer to your question, Master: yes. If I'd had the money then ... and if he'd asked for it ... I probably would have given it to him."

"Why didn't you give him the necklace?"

"I didn't have it. Mommy sent it to Aunt Dorothy in a small, unmarked package when she went to Mexico, asking her to hold it until she returned. Aunt Dorothy sent it on to me here in Maine when she found out about Mommy's death. That necklace must have been the only secret Mommy ever had from Sir. If he had known about it, I'm sure he would have made her give it to the church. The necklace let Mommy sleep ... let her dream."

"Last question: Where did the cell phone come from?"

I could tell she was flustered, but she answered quickly. "A private detective tracked me down at Tod and Teri's house. HE gave it to me. He had been hired by Dr. Jameson, who had lots of questions about the module. But after you started ... wanting me, I ... I didn't care about that anymore. I didn't contact him again after I KNEW you were my Sir."

I leaned forward and put both of my hands on Dawn's thighs. There was just one more thing to do ... one more thing that I hoped would take all of the wrong I had done to this woman and put it right. I now had to take a lie and make it the truth.

"I am going to hypnotize you, Dawn."

She looked into my eyes expectantly. "Yes, Master. Of course."

"I am going to change you. I am going to change the way you act. I am going to change the way you ARE. I am going to change the way WE are together."

She blinked, and her voice cracked. "How ... How have I displeased you, Master?"

"You have never displeased me, my darling," I said gently, and watched as tears flooded her eyes. "But when you awaken from this next trance, these changes WILL be made."

"Y ... yes, M ... Master."

"From this point on, we will be partners in life, you and me. For as long as it is your desire, I will be your Sir. But you MUST give me input ... you must advise me to the best of your ability. You must give me counsel and support, help us make the proper decisions ... together."

She was silent, and her eyes were wide with wonder. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Your mind will still be filled with sexual thoughts and cravings ... but from now on, you must discuss them with me before you act. I want to hear from your conscious self, and not just your subconscious. Do you understand that?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but she seemingly couldn't, and she nodded emphatically.

"I love you, and if you truly want my dominance and control, I will agree to always be your Master," I told her. She made a strangled little sound, deep down in her throat, and she began to move toward me, her arms coming up to embrace me, but I reached up and grasped her firmly by the shoulders. She wore a stunned expression of mute ecstasy, her mouth open in a shocked smile, her eyes flowing unabated.

"Rita and I must finish a period of legal separation," I continued. "And when that is over, I will command you to marry me. And then, I will command you to bear me another child. However, our children will never hear you call me 'sir' or 'master.' You will only use those terms when we are alone. In this house, they will not witness suppression or inequality. They will know only love and laughter, and learn that their potential in the world is unlimited." I took a deep breath. "But know this: If you now accept me as a true Master, I never intend to let you to leave. I will hold you ... in my arms and at my side ... from this day forward. You are mine ... forever; and I am yours. Do you understand that?"

She gave an impassioned, strangled cry and I released her from my grasp. She sprang toward me, wrapping her arms around me, burying her face in the side of my neck. I tried to figure out how to ease the pressure of those new ringlets against my chest, but I gave up and just held her while her crying went on and on and then slowly, slowly, slowly subsided. Gently, I pushed her back into her chair and reached into my pocket for the diamond necklace. With as steady a hand as I could manage, I held it before her smiling, sparkling eyes.

And then, I hypnotized the babysitter ... for the first time.

The End