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Command and Control Ch. 01

By: Bob_Aganoush



This is dedicated to KRR1957, one of the best authors on Literotica, whose stories have inspired this one.

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I was jolted awake by the bump of the plane as the wheels hit the runway. My mind was foggy for just a few seconds, trying to remember where I was. Looking out the window of the plane provided no clue; it could have been almost any small city airport anywhere in the country. Then my mind kicked in enough for me to remember, "Oh yes, Kansas City."

I had begun my day with the clock radio going off at 4:30 in the morning in order to give me enough time to shower, shave, throw on some clothes, and make the short ride to the airport to catch my flight. I was off to yet another meeting, and I struggled to remember why it was being held in Kansas City. For the life of me I couldn't think of a reason, other than it's pretty much smack dab in the middle of the country and a not unreasonable location for the participants arriving from the west coast, the south, and like me, from the east.

The meeting was of an advisory board of a research project on which I served. There were too many of these over the course of the year, but one of my (many) weaknesses in life is an inability to say "no" to friends when they ask for a favor. Having been a professor for approximately two decades, I had developed enough of a reputation across the country that my services, knowledge, and advice were often enough sought out for events like this, as well as to share that knowledge at conferences and other venues. I tried to keep my ego in check, and not come across as one of those obnoxious professors whose head was somewhat larger than the basketball arena at my campus. I think I usually succeeded, though on an occasion or two I would find myself slipping into prima donna mode.

When Robert Roberts (yes, that was his real name -- I often thought what kind of parents would do that to their kid?) asked me to serve on this advisory board, I agreed, figuring it would not be so onerous, one meeting a year for the three year life of the project along with an occasional conference call, reading of progress reports, and the like. Robert -- jokingly called "Bobby Bob" by his friends -- had often responded to my calls for assistance, so I felt like I owed him this one. But now sitting on an airplane taxiing to the gate at 9:30 in the morning, I of course regretted my acquiescence. But having known Bobby since graduate school, where we were in the same cohort, I knew I'd do exactly the same thing the next time he called.

As the chime went on and the seat belt light went off, I rose with a sigh, grabbed my backpack from the floor, suitcase from the overhead compartment (which true to the warning of the flight attendant, had slid about three rows ahead upon landing), and trudged off of the plane. I made my way to ground transportation and grabbed a cab, telling the driver, "Hyatt Regency downtown, please." The driver nodded his assent, and without another word between the two of us, drove me to the hotel.

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The first day of the advisory board meeting concluded right on time at 5:30p, just about as my attention span was at its nadir. The ten of us -- made up of Bobby, three of the researchers on his project team, and the six advisory board members -- climbed into three taxis and headed to the trendy French bistro for dinner. Well, "trendy," I guess, by Kansas City standards. This was a typical part of these sojourns. Most projects could never pay the advisory board members enough of an honorarium for the amount of time and inconvenience to which we were subjected, so they tried to make up for it by treating us as nicely as possible when we met. 

I had braced myself to be taken to a steakhouse, befitting of the city's reputation as the land of the cow, so was pleasantly surprised by the restaurant choice. The food was actually quite good, I'm sure among the best meals you could get in Kansas City that did not revolve around a hunk of meat approximately a pound and a half or so in weight.

I was seated at dinner next to Noreen Taylor, a colleague who had known for some number of years. We were not friends, by any means, but knew each other well enough to be on a first-name basis, largely from seeing each other at professional events around the country. She was about my age, having also started her career two decades ago. We made pleasant chitchat during dinner, getting caught up on professional gossip, who was changing jobs, who was getting promoted, who had been embroiled in some scandal (sleeping with a student, cheating on expense vouchers, and the like) at their universities. The conversation was pleasant enough, though toward the end of the dinner the fatigue really began to hit, no doubt abetted by the three glasses of Bordeaux that had accompanied my French meal.

Noreen and I were in the same taxi going back to the Hyatt, and as we entered the lobby, she asked if I would like to join her for a drink in the hotel's bar. I tried to beg off, explaining the early start to my journey that morning, but she was insistent.

"Listen, Bob -- I really want to talk to you about something," she said. "I need some advice, and I know you can help me."

Even though I was tired, and wanted nothing more than to return to my room, get my clothes off, and get into bed to read a bit of my book before I went to sleep, I reluctantly agreed. I followed her into the bar of the Hyatt, where we sat at a table in the corner.

We each ordered a glass of wine, she switching to a white and I sticking with the Bordeaux on which I had started at the restaurant. Noreen began outlining her situation to me, involving a difficult graduate student with whom she was working. I listened, and asked a few questions, to which she filled in more information.

After the glasses of wine arrived, Noreen took a sip of hers and said, "Would you do me a favor, Bob, and go up to the bar and ask them if they have any pretzels or nuts or anything. I like to have a little nibble with my wine." I was well sated from the rich French food, and had no desire for anything else to eat, but said to her, "Sure."

I went up to the bar and asked the bartender for some snacks, and he returned in a minute or two with a bowl of some kind of Chex mix. I carried it back to the table, and Noreen smiled as I sat it down and said, "Thanks, Bob."

We continued our conversation, and I gave Noreen advice on how to handle the student. She seemed genuinely appreciative, and after finishing our glasses of wine, she signaled the waitress for the bill. When it came, I went to reach for it, but Noreen grabbed it before I could, saying, "Please Bob, let me -- I really appreciate your advice, so the least I can do is buy you a glass of wine."

"Thanks, Noreen," I replied, and we both rose and headed for the elevators. But as I stood up, I felt incredibly dizzy, and immediately plopped myself down in the seat again. 

Noreen turned back, seeing me sitting there, and said with a note of concern in her voice, "Are you okay?"

I laughed it off. "Yeah, I think it's just the fatigue from being up so early, along with all the wine. I'm sure I'll be fine." I rose more slowly this time, and as I did, Noreen gently placed her hand on my arm to ease me. I still was dizzy, but felt like I could walk without falling flat on my face if I took it slowly. As we walked out of the bar, Noreen continue to hold onto my arm. "Thanks," I said to her quietly.

We got into the elevator, and she asked what floor I was on. "Five," I replied, and she said she was on the same. As we arrived on the fifth floor, I felt a bit dizzier, and hesitated as we got off the elevator. She turned to me with a look of concern on her face. "You going to make it?"

"I'm not sure, but let me just get to my room and I'm sure once I lie down I'll be okay," I said. We continued to walk with her holding my arm and me now leaning on her just a bit more, as the walls of the hotel corridor seemed to be moving in and out on me. We arrived at my door, and while I was able to get the keycard out of my pocket, I was so woozy that I couldn't get it in the slot. Still holding on to me, Noreen took it out of my hand with her other, and slipped it in and out of the door.

She reached past me, turned the handle to open the door, and guided me into the room. I held on to the wall with my free hand, and managed to make it to the bed, where I fell backward on to it. As the room continued to spin, I felt somebody at my feet, and realized it was Noreen taking my shoes off. She must have then walked to the top of the bed, because I heard her voice very near to my head. "Bob, look at me," she said. I opened my eyes, and saw that her face was just a few inches from mine, and she was saying, "Keep looking at me Bob."

I did my best to focus on her face, but everything was still spinning. She was talking to me, but I couldn't understand the words. And the next thing I knew, everything went black.

========================

I opened my eyes very slowly, afraid that everything would still be spinning. But as they came fully open, I saw that everything seemed to be in its place, no longer moving like I was on the Tilt-a-Whirl at the county fair. I sat up in bed, and looked down and saw that I was lying on top of the covers, all my clothes on but my shoes removed. I looked over at the window, and could see light peeking through the crack of the blinds, and I realized it must have been morning. I turned the other way, and the clock told me it was 7:00AM.

I shook the cobwebs out of my head, trying to remember what occurred last night. After a few moments I recalled what had happened, the drink and conversation with Noreen, the dizziness, her walking me back to my room. But nothing else. 

I swung my feet to the side of the bed, placing them on the ground, and gingerly stood up. Everything seemed to be working, and with the exception of a slight headache, I didn't seem to have any lingering effects of the last evening's malady. I stripped off my clothes, took a couple of Tylenol, and jumped into the shower. The shower and a shave made me feel much better and more human, and the Tylenol seemed to have kicked in by the time I walked out of the bathroom.

I got dressed in the casual clothes that the meeting allowed, and went downstairs to join the others for the meeting. I knew there was going to be coffee and some pastries and fruit set out at the beginning, so there was no need to grab breakfast beforehand.

As I entered the meeting room, the first person I saw was Noreen. She immediately came over to me, and I noticed a look of concern on her face.

"Are you okay, Bob? You really seemed out of it last night -- I was worried about you," she said.

"Yeah, I think so Noreen," I replied. "I really don't remember much about what happened, but when I got up this morning everything seems to be working okay." I smiled at her in confirmation.

"Good, glad to hear it," she smiled back at me. We sat down next to each other, and made small talk while we ate our breakfasts. 

The meeting started shortly after, and I managed to stay focused. I kept waiting for the room to start spinning, or something like that to happen, but I seemed none the worse for the wear of whatever it was that happened to me the night before.

The meeting wrapped up around 5:00, and a few people who were heading to the west coast and could catch flights left. The rest of us who could not get flights out until tomorrow morning walked through the lobby to the hotel restaurant for dinner.

The meal in the hotel was not nearly as good as the last night's, but that was okay since we had been treated so nicely the prior night. I was cautious with what I drank, limiting myself to a single glass of wine, just in case I had any lingering effects of whatever happened to me the last night. After dessert, I said good night to the others and headed for the elevator. Noreen caught up to me, saying, "I'll ride up with you."

The doors opened up, and we got in, Noreen reaching to push the button. As she reached past me to push the button, I got a very subtle whiff of her perfume. It smelled like lavender. I reached to push the button for my floor, but she said, "We're on the same floor, remember?" 

I didn't remember that from last night at all. "No, guess I forgot," I chuckled. The elevator ascended, and we got out on the fifth floor. We started walking down the hall together, and as I approached my room, I said, "Well, good night, Noreen, great to get caught up with you." We had already discussed that I had a much earlier flight than she did in the morning, so I knew I wouldn't see her.

She replied, "Before you go, Bob, I have a paper I'd like to give to you to take a look at. It's by one of my grad students, and I think you could give her some good feedback on it as I believe it's right up your alley. No rush -- if you can get to it in the next month or so, I know she'd really appreciate your comments."

"Sure," I replied.

"Great -- it's right down here in my room, c'mon down and I'll give it to you." She began walking further down the hall and I followed. She stopped in front of a door, took her keycard from her purse, and opened it. "C'mon in, it'll just take a second to find it in my briefcase."

I followed her into the room, and stood waiting while she rifled through her briefcase. She pulled a paper out a few seconds later and handed it to me. "Sit down for a minute, and just read the abstract to make sure it is an area of research you're familiar with."

She lifted her coat off of the chair, and I sat down. She stood next to me and turned on the floor lamp, and as she did, I again recognized the scent of lavender on her. I flipped over the cover page, which contained the paper title and the student's name, and began reading the page-long abstract. As I did so, I was conscious of Noreen standing in front of me, very close, watching me as I read.

I finished the abstract, and looked up to tell her it was on a topic on which I was currently working. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, she looked down at me and said, "Noreen Taylor."

I blinked for a second, not understanding why she was saying her own name to me. I began to question her, but I couldn't seem to find the right words. I just stood there, looking up at her. She leaned down toward me so that her face was only a few inches or so from mine, and she reached out and put a finger under my chin. Staring into my eyes, she again repeated her name: "Noreen Taylor."

Now I just stared at her, unable to question what she was doing. She continued staring back at me, and after a few seconds, she said, "Stand up, Bob," as she leaned back and moved aside. I stood up in front of the chair, next to her. She reached out and took the paper from my hand, and placed it down on the bed next to her. "Stand over there," she said, pointing to a spot a few feet away.

Again, I wanted to ask her what was going on, but my brain simply wouldn't form the words. As if driven by some subconscious force, I did as she told, and stood in the spot. She took my position in the chair I had been sitting in, kicking off her shoes, but before she sat down, she took the hem of her dress, and hiked it up. She wore no pantyhose, so that when she sat down I could see all of her bare legs up to her light purple panties, which were clearly visible between her spread legs. After I glanced at her crotch, I looked up into her eyes, and saw that she was staring right at me.

"Get down on your knees and crawl over here."

I hesitated for just a split second, but again bidden by some unseen force, I did as she told. I got down on my knees, and knee-walked my way the few feet over to her until I was just a foot in front of her, kneeling between her spread legs. She continued staring into my eyes, and much as I wanted to look at her crotch again, I couldn't take my eyes from hers.

"Start licking," she said, as she pointed down toward her panties.

By this point, I had no hesitation left in me at all, and I knew exactly what she meant by her command. I put my arms on the arms of the chair, on either side of her legs, and leaned forward. The scent of her arousal flooded my nostrils as I got close. As I did so, she lifted her ass off the chair just slightly, enough to be able to hike up her dress even further, giving me ready access to her underwear-laden crotch. I lightly touched my tongue to her panties, and as I did, I realized they were already wet, confirming what my sense of smell had just told me.

I began licking more, as she settled back in the chair, pushing her crotch further toward my face. The combination of her arousal and my saliva began to sodden her panties, until the purple became darker and almost transparent they were so wet. I continued stroking with my tongue, up and down, first concentrating on the middle, but then moving out to the sides a bit, toward the lace edging around the leg holes. I could feel through the panties that she had a good bit of hair there, she was clearly not one of those women who trimmed or shaved her pubic hair.

I was only partially conscious of what was happening. I knew I was there in this hotel room, licking someone whom only a few minutes ago I had been in a professional meeting with. I had a sense in the back of my mind that I was doing something wrong. I was single, so it was not as if I was cheating on someone, but it was the lack of control and consent that was gnawing at me. But I was powerless to do anything but to continue to lick at her increasingly wet panties.

After no more than a minute or two of this, I felt her hands on either side of my head, pulling it back from her pussy. "Sit back," she commanded. I rocked back on my knees as she lifted her ass off the chair again, and pushed her panties down her legs. She lifted each foot, one at a time, and removed the panties from each. As she sat back down, I saw that my initial impression was correct -- she had very full and bushy hair, which was now glistening with her juices that had been flowing onto her panties as well. She put a finger under my chin, lifting my head back up to look into her eyes. "Get back to work," she said, without a trace of a smile on her face.

For just a split second, the correct synapses seemed to fire in my brain, telling me to stop what I was doing and get out of there. But just as quickly as they started, they failed, eliminating any opportunity I had to remove myself from the incredible situation in which I had found myself.

I leaned forward again, and continued what I had started before, now facing her sex unburdened by panties. As I did so, she flipped her loose dress over my head, enveloping me in near darkness. This had the effect of magnifying and concentrating the scent of her arousal, and it was so strong it almost made me gag. I hesitated, but she grabbed the back of my head with one hand and pulled it toward her. I heard a "Get to it," muffled by her dress around my head.

I was now able to touch my tongue to her outer labia, and as I ran it up and down each one, I felt them open up, like the petals of a flower. Each seemed to grow as it became even more engorged with blood. As they grew and opened up, they revealed the smaller, more delicate inner labia, on which I quickly focused my attention. After tonguing each, I gently pulled on each one with my own lips, and I felt them swell under my ministrations. As I did this, I could feel her juices begin flowing even more generously. 

I began to hear some gentle moans emanating from Noreen's lips, obviously loud enough that I could hear them through the muffle of her dress over my head. All my senses now confirmed for me the state of arousal in she found herself. I leaned forward again, and began to push my tongue into her sex itself. It felt for a second almost like my tongue found itself in a glass of a thick, viscous liquid, as her juices continued to pool. I felt them dripping onto my lips and down my chin as I sought to push my tongue even deeper into her sex and move it around. As I did this, she moaned even more loudly. I stroked my tongue up and down, from the bottom of her sex, touching on the perineum, up to the hood of her clitoris. I couldn't see what I was doing in the darkness, but my tongue need no guide other than its sensory capabilities. As I once brushed against her button with my tongue, she reached under her dress and grabbed on to my hair and yanked my head back from under the dress, saying through clenched teeth, "Not yet." The sharp pain rattled around my head, and it was all I could do to stifle a yelp.


Command and Control Ch. 01



She removed her hand from my hair, and pushed on my forehead, sending me back on my haunches once again. I was temporarily blinded by the light of her hotel room as I came out from under her dress. I sat back, taking a deep breath, still smelling her scent all over my chin, nose, and lips. I could see that her juices had been flowing so fully that they had created a quite prominent wet spot on the chair beneath her. 

She got up from the chair, right in front of me, and I thought perhaps my ordeal was over. Deep in my brain I knew what was happening was wrong -- my sense of humiliation at being somehow forced to service her this way, without consenting to what I was doing, was quite strong. I willed myself to rise from my knees, but I was unable. 

Noreen must have sensed the turmoil coursing through my brain, because she looked down at me, smiling. "Don't bother Bob -- you can't control yourself, you have no choice but to do as I tell you."

I tried to formulate a question in response, to ask her why, what was going on, what was happening to me -- but the words could not travel from my brain to be formed by my lips. I stuttered a few odd sounds, trying to form sentences, but nothing intelligible came out. Noreen laughed now. "Bet you never felt so inarticulate before, have you professor?" 

I was unable to reply, but simply watched as she now mounted the chair on her knees, and settled her chest over the back of the upholstered and padded chair. I was presented with her rear, covered by her dress, directly in front of me. She made herself comfortable on the chair, and took one hand and yanked the dress up over her rear, exposing the silky whiteness of it to me. She spread her legs, which had the effect of exposing her quite hairy and engorged outer labia to me. She then looked back over her shoulder, stared in my eyes for a few seconds, and said, "Continue what you started before, Bob."

Unable to stop myself, I leaned forward, and began running my lips over her labia, now from the rear instead of the front. They were quite wet from this position also, and I had to bend down quite a bit to find an angle of attack that would give my tongue good access to them. I licked one, and then the other, and after a couple of minutes of this, I felt her shift her knees even further apart. This now provided an opening for my tongue to reach her sex, and with a bit of repositioning, I was able to get it in there. The only way to do this was to be almost below her, pushing my tongue upwards. As I did so, her juices flowed all over my face, so abundant that they ran down my chin and on to my shirt.

After a few more minutes, I heard her say, "Now -- tongue my clit." It wasn't easy, but with a bit more shifting downward and forward, I was able to get my tongue on to her clitoris. I rolled it around, pushing the hood backward, and as I did so I heard her moan even further. I continued my efforts, and felt her body start to heave above me. As I continued this for another minute or so, I heard faster and louder noises coming from her. "Ahhh. . . . .arrggghh. . . .that's right, that's it. . . .ooooohhhhh" and her body then shook, as if wracked by some external force. 

Even if I had wanted to, I would not have been able to maintain contact between my tongue and her clitoris as her body quaked. I pushed back on my haunches, her juices still dripping down my face, and simply watched as her movements finally slowed down, and she breathed heavily over the back of the chair. I saw her juices streaked down the inside of her thighs, again creating two small wet spots by the inside of her knees on the chair.

After about a minute, she turned around, and plopped herself heavily into the chair facing me. She was still trying to get her breathing under control, and finally, was able to enough to say with a wry smile on her face, "Well done, Bob. You follow directions quite excellently."

I heard her words, and my brain told me that I should be responding in some way, but I couldn't find the words. I simply sat there with what I assume was a stupid look on my face.

"That's okay, professor, I know you really can't talk in your current state. Let me help you out." She leaned forward, so that our faces were on the same level and hers was only a few inches from mine. She put out her hand, and placed a finger under my chin, and for the third time, said, "Noreen Taylor."

Hearing those words, my mind reacted as if it had received a shot of adrenaline after being in a slumber for some period. I blinked a few times, and for what seemed like the first time in a while, I could feel the blood flowing through my veins again. I continued to kneel there for a few seconds wondering where I was and what was going on. But very quickly the memory of what had transpired over the last 30 minutes or so came back to me, and my entire body shook involuntarily. I stood up, and looked down at her, seeing her face flush, her dress askew, and her bare legs exposed to me from mid-calf down to her feet. As I glanced up at her face, she was smiling at me.

"I bet you're wondering what happened, aren't you, professor?" she asked.

I was now conscious enough to be able to respond. I knew something was definitely wrong, but still couldn't quite comprehend what it was. "What the hell's going on here, Noreen?"

She just laughed, as she got up from the chair and walked past me to the bathroom. I turned and watched, as I could see her through the doorway running a washcloth under the tap and then using it to wipe down her face. She came out again, holding the washcloth, and as she came within a few feet of me, she tossed it to me. "Here, you may want this," she said, still with the same sly grin on her face.

I started to throw it back at her, but I felt the stickiness on my own face, and I quickly wiped it off with the cloth, and dropped it on the bed. "I asked you a question -- what just happened here?" I repeated, more angrily this time.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, avoiding sitting on the washcloth I had just tossed there. She looked at me intently. "Do you remember what happened when I applied for that job at Virginia, Bob?"

Still angry, I began to respond. "What the hell are you talking about, Noreen? I don't know. . . ." but then I stopped myself. Because then I remembered exactly what she was talking about.

About five years ago, Noreen had applied for a job at the U. of Virginia, a position that would have been quite a prestigious plum for her. It was an endowed chair, and a step up from the position she held at the time - the position she was still in today - in a program that most would charitably describe as "second rate." Noreen had been one of the three candidates interviewed, and she had evidently made quite a good impression on the search committee. 

"So you do remember, don't you Bob?" Noreen's voice woke me from my memories. She must have seen the pensive look on my face as I recalled what had occurred.

Thinking quickly, I tried to play dumb. "Well, I remember hearing that you had interviewed for the chair there, yes," I said cautiously.

"But that's not all you remember, is it?'

A bit flustered, I stammered, "Well, I don't remember all the details, Noreen."

"Think hard, Bob," she replied, "and I'm sure it will come back to you. You don't recall the conversation you had with your buddy Dave Edwards?"

Dave Edwards was the chair of the search committee, and like Robert Roberts, a good friend of mine from graduate school. I received a call from him after the three candidates had had their campus visits. He told me they were leaning toward offering the job to Noreen, and asked me what I thought, because he knew that I was familiar with her work.

As Noreen now stared at me, I recalled the conversation Dave and I had. I couldn't remember all the details of what I told him, but the gist of it was that I had bad-mouthed Noreen as not having the talent, or more precisely, "the balls," to deserve an endowed chair. While she did some good work, I told him, she really wasn't deserving of the chair and they ought to offer it to one of the two men who had interviewed for the job. I knew that for whatever reason, they did end up offering the job to one of the men, who accepted the offer and still held the chair to this day.

But the thing I couldn't figure out is how Noreen could have found out what I had said to Dave. I knew he would never betray my confidence, so how the hell did she know about the conversation?

Once again, Noreen's voice interrupted my thoughts. "You know, Bob, you should have learned not to have such a big mouth. It was one thing to trash me to Dave, but the really, really stupid thing you did was to brag about it to others. You just had to show them what a big shot you were by telling them that your word was enough to throw the job to someone else, didn't you?"

And then I remembered. I was at a conference about six months after Virginia had made their hire, sitting at the bar gossiping with a few colleagues. I had had a few drinks, and had bragged about how I had managed to throw the Virginia chair to the guy who had ultimately received the offer. I didn't know them well, and evidently, one of them must have retold the story, and it had somehow gotten back to Noreen.

"Look, Noreen, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, but Dave asked my honest. . . "

"Shut up, Bob," Noreen quickly cut me off. "I don't want to hear your pitiful excuses. The bottom line is you convinced them to yank away what would have otherwise been mine, and I've been pissed about it ever since."

I started to talk again, but before I could say anything she put her hand up to stop me. "Don't say anything until I tell you to, Bob. Just listen."

I simply nodded my assent.

"Now you're probably wondering what happened to you tonight. You remember last night how you were feeling ill when you came back to your room?" I nodded. "Well, I had slipped a 'mickey' in your wine, as they say in the movies, when you got up to get me that Chex mix." And at this she chuckled a bit, then continued. "When you got up to your room, you don't remember it, but before you passed out I hypnotized you, Bob."

At this I was incredulous. "I don't believe you, Noreen -- I've never been hypnotized in my life and I don't believe you could do that," I spurted back at her.

"No, Bob -- you don't think so?" she replied. "Then what do you think happened in here tonight?"

I just stared at her, not sure how to reply. "I don't know," I said in a soft voice.

"Then I'll tell you. I hypnotized you, Bob, and I made you susceptible to what I'll call 'suggestions' from anyone who knows the code words to put you under."

I was still incredulous, not believing she could do that to me, and that I could respond to it. But I could not come up with any other explanation for what had happened to me in her hotel room tonight. I was still foggy on the details of what had happened, but I had enough vague memories -- almost as if recalling a dream after waking up the next morning -- and the physical evidence all over my face, to fill in the blanks for me.

"That's right, professor. Anyone who knows the code words to put you under will be able to get you to do things you wouldn't otherwise do."

"Wait a minute, Noreen," I replied to her. "I don't know a lot about hypnosis, but I know that people can't be made to do things against their will."

"You're partially right, Bob. People can't be induced to do something under hypnosis that they feel would put them at some risk of life or limb, or to hurt others. But they can be forced to do something that they don't consider harmful, that in other circumstances they would be willing to do."

I thought about this for a moment, as Noreen laughed and continued. "And obviously you don't consider it harmful to be used for oral servitude by a woman, now do you Bob?"

At this I blushed profusely, and tried to stammer a reply. "Now look, Noreen. . ."

She cut me off. "Don't bother, Bob. I've done it, and I'm the only one who can reverse it. Anyone who knows the code can humiliate you anyway they want, as long as you don't feel you'll be permanently harmed by the action. And believe you me, I'm going to make sure that this power gets used judiciously."

I eyed her suspiciously, not sure exactly what she meant by this. I tried going on the offensive. "I could go to the police with this you know, Noreen."

"And tell them what, Bob? You don't have any proof and you'd probably sound like a blathering idiot if you try to tell them that story. What are you going to do, show them my dried cum on your chin?" With this she gave a hearty laugh. "No, Bob, you don't have much recourse here."

"Then what is it you want from me, Noreen?"

"What do you think I want, Bob? You can't get me that chair, it should have been mine, but it's too late for that. And I've waited this long for the opportunity that presented itself to me at this meeting. So I've already gotten what I want from you, Bob. Revenge, plain and simple. I've exacted my revenge, and I'll be able to continue to do that for some time into the future."

I stepped forward, angrily approaching her. "Then I'll just avoid you, Noreen -- I can arrange things so I never have to look at your damn face again," I shouted at her.

"Keep your voice down, Bob," she said calmly. "We wouldn't want to bother people in the adjoining rooms now, would we?"

I stepped back again to where I had stood.

"Remember, Bob, it's not just me you have to watch out for. It's anybody who knows the code words."

"And what are those?" I asked.

She chuckled again. "Oh no, Bob, that would be too easy now, wouldn't it? I'm getting tired, my little oral slave, so now do me a big favor and run along, would you? I really need to get cleaned up a bit more before bed." She flashed me a big smile, and stood from where she had been sitting on the bed. She put a hand on my shoulder, turning me around toward the door and then gave my back a little shove.

I was flabbergasted at what had just transpired, but didn't know what else to do. She clearly had me, and she was right that I had little recourse. I walked toward the door, and as I opened it, I glanced back at her. She gave me a little wave and another smile as I walked through it and closed it behind me.

========================

End of part one



Command and Control Ch. 02



This is dedicated to KRR1957, one of the best authors on Literotica, whose stories have inspired this one. As with most of my stories, this one includes quite a bit of character development, so please be patient.

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It had been about ten days since I had attended the meeting in Kansas City and had my run-in with Noreen Taylor. At first after I returned home I was obsessed with how she had hypnotized me. I went on the Internet and read everything I could about hypnosis, not knowing anything about it. There was little there to help me, especially about how one could break a hypnotic spell if you didn't know the code words.

At first, I awoke every day worried that I'd somehow be put into a spell by someone inadvertently saying the code words. But after a week, I realized that this was very unlikely, as she would not have used a common enough phrase to cause that to happen. I also read everything I could about Noreen and her career, to try to understand more about why she had done this. I understood she was royally pissed about my screwing up her chance at the endowed chair at the University of Virginia, as that seemed to be the brass ring that she had missed out on and had not had a similar opportunity since.

I was careful not to do this surfing at the office, as I knew that the IT department sometimes did spot checks of the websites employees visited, to ensure that nobody was using state equipment for untoward purposes. So I worked a lot at home, using my computer there, and avoided the office other than when I need to be there for class or meetings. While none of the websites were ones that would get me in trouble, I didn't want to take the chance of raising any suspicions.

I was walking down the hall one of the few mornings I was in the office, when I was stopped by one of my colleagues with a shout of "Hey, Bob" from his office. I stopped, backtracked a few feet, and poked my head in.

"Hi, Jerry, what's up?" I asked, standing in his doorway.

"Will you do me a favor," he replied, getting up from behind his desk and handing me a stack of papers clipped together. "This is a CV and paper from one of the applicants in the search."

I took the papers from his hand and glanced at them. We had a search open for a new assistant professor in the department, and while I was not on the search committee, my colleagues who were would often run the applications by me. As I started to read down the CV, Jerry said, "He's a student of Noreen Taylor's."

At hearing her name, my mind sputtered for a second, almost like an engine misfiring a cylinder. A tingling sensation went up and down my body, and I had to concentrate to hold on to the papers and not drop them.

"What," I said, not knowing what else to say, and trying to get my concentration back.

"Yeah," Jerry replied, "he's finishing up this year, and I think he has a pretty good CV, but I wanted to get your reading on it." 

I listened to Jerry's words, and fought hard to regain my mental acuity. After a few moments, I seemed to be getting a grip on what was happening, though was still a bit unsure of myself, and the tingling sensation left my body.

"Oh, okay," I said, not knowing what else to do at that stage. "I'll take a look and let you know what I think." I turned and started walking back to my office, before Jerry tried to engage me in any further conversation and possibly expose my momentary lack of mental sharpness.

"Thanks," I heard Jerry yell from his office as I was already five feet or so down the hallway.

I continued down the hall and into my office, closing the door behind me. "What the fuck just happened?" I thought to myself, as I placed the papers down on my desk. I knew that hearing Noreen's name must have triggered something in me, or was it an incredible coincidence that that feeling had hit at exactly the precise moment Jerry had said her name. I chalked it up to just a reaction to hearing her name and subconsciously flashing back to what had happened in that hotel room in Kansas City.

I picked up the papers again, and tried to read through them, but couldn't concentrate on the words that were written there. I threw them down in disgust, and picked up some student papers to grade, but had the same problem at first. I put them back, and went to my computer and started surfing the web aimlessly. After about an hour of that, I finally gave up, and seeing that it was already 4:00pm, I grabbed my backpack and headed home.

I made myself some dinner, watched a baseball game on TV, and went to bed. At first, I tossed and turned, trying to figure out what had happened to me, but I still didn't understand it. After a while, I finally fell asleep, but slept very fitfully.

The next morning I woke up, showered and shaved, and felt much better. I was still bothered by what transpired the day before, but I headed into the office and tried to shake it off. When I got there, I picked up the pack of papers Jerry gave me the day before, and started reading them. I was somewhat pleasantly surprised that I could now concentrate, and I finished reading the CV and article, and fired off an email to Jerry with my impressions. After hitting the "send" button, I sat back in my chair with a satisfied smile, and thought to myself, "Glad that's behind me."

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On the way home from work later that day, I stopped at a supermarket to pick up some food. I don't like food shopping, so generally try to do it just once a week. Being divorced with no kids, shopping wasn't a complicated task, but I just felt like it was a waste of time. If I lived in a city that had one of those shopping delivery services, I would most certainly have utilized it and shopped on-line. But being in a relatively small college town, that wasn't available.

I had been divorced for about ten years, and never remarried. I had had a succession of girlfriends – or "lovers," if that was the more politically-correct term – in the ensuring decade, but never one that I was very serious about. I was somewhat jaded by the end of the marriage – there had been a number of fights between my ex-wife and me at the end, with her accusing me on multiple of occasions of being a "sexist pig" and my throwing out the word "bitch" at her. Suffice it to say that neither of us was sad to be done with the other by the time we signed our divorce papers.

The shopping took much longer than usual because I was at a market that I was not familiar with. I usually shopped at one that was closer to my home but a few miles in the other direction from campus. This one was on my route home, though, so I decided to stop in.

As I finished my shopping, I scanned the checkout lines. Unlike most people who would automatically search for the one with the shortest line, I instead looked at the clerks behind the cash registers. I was keeping an eye out for a cute one, preferably one dressed in a tight or low-cut – or even better, both – blouse that would provide a little eye candy for a few minutes. 

Since my divorce, and even before, I was very cautious about not getting involved in relationships with anyone in my department, including the graduate students. It was easy to avoid relationships with the other professors; most of the women were either highly unattractive to me, or had personalities that would send me running at the thought of having to spend an evening with them, never mind being in a relationship with them.

I avoided the graduate students also. Even though I had colleagues, including some in my own department, who had had relationships with students, it always seemed to end poorly with accusations of sexual harassment on the part of the professor. While my few colleagues who had crossed this line had all managed to survive the scandal, it always created quite a mess and I never wished to put myself in that position.

Having made the decision to avoid any office romances, however, I never hesitated to visually check out women, even on campus. I was always discreet enough to avoid getting a reputation as one of "those" professors who the female students talked about, the one who was always making eye contact with their nipples rather than their eyes. But I did enjoy looking at women's bodies when I could grab a glance, and occasionally fantasizing about what sex with them would be like.

I spotted an aisle with a cute young woman in it, and as luck would have it, there was only one person ahead of me in line, and he was just finishing putting his groceries on the belt. "My lucky day," I thought, as I pulled into the aisle and looked at the tight t-shirt on the woman, which clearly was thrown on without thought of a bra underneath as she got ready for her work, as her nipples were clearly apparent. "Bonus time," I chuckled to myself.

As the customer in front of me finished up, I took the last of my groceries from my cart, put them on the belt, and smiled and said hello to the clerk. She gave me a big toothy smile back, saying "Hello, how are you today, sir?"

I smiled again, and looking at the nametag that was prominently displayed on her left breast said, "Just great, thanks. And how are you, Ashley?"

She said, "Doing okay, wish I wasn't working, but my shift is almost over."

"Good for you," I said, as she dragged my items across the scanner. "Damn," I thought, I should have bought more so I could stand here even longer.

Just as I thought this, I glanced over at the aisle next to me, and saw standing there Elizabeth Carmichael, one of my colleagues in the department. Elizabeth (never "Liz," or "Betsy," or "Lizzie" – always "Elizabeth") and I often did not see eye-to-eye on things. We had joined the department around the same time, and had had conflicts with each other right from the get-go. I suspected that one of my issues with her was that she reminded me too much of my ex-wife; not in looks, but in personality. While my ex-wife was thin and tall, only a few inches shorter than my six feet, Elizabeth was just a shade over five feet tall, and carried probably an extra 40 or 50 pounds on her. She was not an unattractive woman, as she had what could objectively be described as a pretty face, but she was quite plump. Even with her plumpness, though, I had noticed that she still liked to dress in tight clothes that accentuated her large breasts and generous ass. Today she had on what looked like a workout uniform, with fairly tight Spandex pants and a V-neck t-shirt that showed off her ample cleavage. 

But as different as Elizabeth and my ex-wife were in looks, they were similar in personalities – strong women who had little patience for men who were sexist and perceived as not being supportive of women. While I was careful not to say anything too impolitic at the office, particularly when it came to issues of race or gender, I doubted that anyone would put me in the camp of being an overt supporter of more opportunities for women. I liked to think of myself as a believer in meritocracy; I didn't care if women received their just opportunities, as long as they fairly earned them. But I knew that Elizabeth and other women in the department interpreted my position of one that called into question whether women in general were as qualified to be in the professoriate as men. Earlier in my career this may have concerned me, but as a full professor with tenure, I had earned the right not to give much of a damn about what people like Elizabeth and others thought.

So naturally, seeing Elizabeth next to me, I tried to hurry up the check-out process and get out of there before she saw me and tried to say hello. As much as I was enjoying looking at the check-out girl's tits in front of me, I didn't want to talk to Elizabeth. While we were not on the best of terms, she was the type who felt obligated to engage in chitchat when she bumped into a colleague somewhere in town.

I had almost finished up, receiving the receipt from the clerk, and getting ready to make a run for it. Luckily Elizabeth's aisle was away from the door, so I was hoping to head for the door without her seeing me. I thanked Ashley, grabbed my cart, and started pushing it toward the door.

"Hi, Robert," I heard behind me, cringing at the sound of my formal name that was never used by any of my friends. I suspected that Elizabeth knew it bothered me, which only encouraged her to use it.

I turned, and feigning surprise, said, "Elizabeth! How are you?" I thought I sounded pretty convincing. I was tempted to call her "Liz" just to get back at her, but decided I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could. 

"Good, thanks. Just doing my shopping after working out at the gym. Haven't seen much of you around the office lately, have you been away?"

"I did have a meeting in Kansas City a couple of weeks ago, but mostly I've been working at home since. I'm on deadline for an article I'm trying to finish up, so have been trying to avoid distractions in the office," I lied. "You know how it is, when you're in there, everyone wants a piece of you," I chuckled, trying to sound convincing again. 

"Oh yes, I certainly understand that. I get the most work done at home, too." 

We walked toward the doors, each of us pushing a cart. I glanced in and was surprised to see she had about four bags worth of food, which seemed like a lot for someone who was single like me. I figured she must not like shopping either, and probably did it as infrequently as possible.

She must have seen me glancing at her bags, because she said, "I'm having some friends over tonight, so I was stocking up on snacks, and beer and wine," she said as an explanation.

"Oh," I replied, not sure why I was feeling guilty at being caught looking in her cart. 

We got to the doors and they parted automatically as we stepped on the black mats. As we reached the curb, I said, "Well, nice seeing you, Elizabeth, enjoy your party tonight," trying to extricate myself from the conversation. I quickly headed toward my car. 

"You too, Bob," she replied, and headed in the same direction.

I tried not to walk too quickly, to make it look like I was trying to get away from her. But Elizabeth kept following me, and as I got to my car, I saw her stop at the one right next to me, hitting her remote followed by the beep, beep, click of her doors being unlocked.

As I quickly loaded my bags in the trunk, I heard Elizabeth's voice. "Robert, would you do me a big favor?"

I stifled a groan, and as tempted as I was to say, "No," I didn't want to come across as an absolute dick. So I replied, "Sure, Elizabeth, what is it?"

"I think I may have pulled something in my back working out earlier, so I was wondering if you'd mind helping me put these bags in my car. I've got some heavy ones, with all the beer and wine I bought."

"Easy enough," I thought to myself. I said, "No problem, happy to help out," slammed my trunk shut, and walked over to her car.

As I was lowering the first two bags into her open trunk, I heard her say, "Noreen Taylor."

I jumped at hearing those words, and almost dropped the two bags. I quickly recovered, easing them down, but realized that I was experiencing the same tingly sensation in my body that I had felt when Jerry had said Noreen's name the day before. I tried to grab the last of Elizabeth's grocery bags, and get out of there as quickly as possible, but before I could put my hands on them, I heard it again.

"Noreen Taylor."

This time I froze, unable to move. I just stood there, looking at the bags, unable to mentally comprehend what I had just been doing.

"Get into my car, Bob" I heard Elizabeth say. I was conscious that she had switched to my more familiar name that most people used. Without understanding why, I followed her direction, walked to the passenger side door, opened it, and got in and sat down. I was conscious of Elizabeth putting the rest of her groceries in her trunk, and out of the corner of my eye saw her take both of our carts and put them in the cart area.

She got into her car and said, "Give me your keys, Bob." Still not understanding what was happening, I fished them out of my pocket, and handed them to her. She pushed the locking button once, and I heard a beep as the doors of my car locked. She dropped the keys into her purse. "I hope you didn't get any frozen items," she said with a chuckle, as she started her engine.

I just stared ahead, not knowing what I was doing there. Something in the back of my head told me I should open the door and get out, but I could not will my body to do what my brain told it.

She backed out of the space, exited the supermarket's parking lot, and began driving. I had no idea where we were going; while logically I should have figured she was driving home, I had no rationality yet with which to work. I was just along for the ride.

After about ten minutes, we pulled up to a condominium, and she pressed the button to open her garage door. She pulled in, stopped the engine, and closed the garage door with the same button. She pushed another button, and I heard her trunk pop open. "Grab the groceries and follow me," she said, as she got out of the car.

I tried to say something in objection, but I could not form the words. When I still sat there, unmoving, I saw her come around to my side and open my door. "I said, get the groceries and follow me," I heard her say in a more stern-sounding voice. "You better learn to start obeying, me, Bob, or it's going to be a very long night." This helped snap me out of my reverie, and I got out of the car, reached into the trunk, and grabbed three of the bags of groceries.

I followed her into her home and through it into the kitchen, which was on the other side of the house, where I put the groceries on a counter. "Get the rest of them," she commanded me. 

I turned around and headed back from where I had come. As I approached the door to the garage, I noticed a key hook with her keys sitting on them. I had a fleeting thought of grabbing them and using her car to get away, but I couldn't put the mental thoughts together in a cogent fashion that would allow me to execute such a plan. So instead, I simply got the remaining bags out of her trunk and brought them into the kitchen.

"Good boy," she said. The condescending tone rankled me for a split second, and I started to say something back to her in anger, but again, my mind wouldn't allow me to form the words.

"Follow me."

I watched as she left the kitchen and walked into her living room. I followed a few steps behind her, and as she stopped, I stopped. "Sit down, I'll be right back," and she pointed to the sofa.

I did as she said, sitting and waiting expectedly. She walked off to an adjacent room that looked like some kind of home office. I could hear her tapping away at the keyboard, and after only a minute, she returned.

She plopped down in a chair facing the sofa, with a stocky wooden cocktail table between the two of us. I felt like my mind was working at only 10 or 20 percent capacity; I was conscious of my surroundings, and could hear and understand what she was saying to me, enough to be able to follow through on her commands. But it wasn't working at a capacity enough for me to do much else but sit and listen to her.

"You remember what happened in Kansas City, don't you Bob," Elizabeth started. 

When she asked this, I tried to think back to my trip there less than two weeks ago. I remember I had been there for a meeting of the advisory board of a research project, but I didn't remember much else. It felt as if I were trying to recall the remnants of a dream that were located deep in my subconscious. I could retrieve bits and pieces of what had transpired, but could not put the whole thing together into a cogent narrative of the events. I stared at her blankly, not responding, so she must have realized I couldn't remember it enough to able to tell her.




Command and Control Ch. 02



"Well, let me help you. A good friend of mine was at that meeting with you and she hypnotized you, and then forced you to perform oral sex on her. Does that ring any bells?"

I tried to take what she told me, and use the information along with the remnants of the story that I was able to dredge up from my memory, to piece together that missing narrative. But I was still unable to do so, and I just stared at her, shaking my head.

I saw Elizabeth get up from her chair, and come around the coffee table to sit down on it, facing me. She leaned forward, close enough that I could smell the sweat on her from her workout at the gym, placing her face just inches from mine. "Pussy licking, Bob – my friend forced you to lick her pussy. She sat on a chair, spread her legs, and had you stick your tongue right up her cunt. How about that, you remember that now?"

The rudeness of the words coming out of her mouth were a shock. I had never recalled her using language like that in all the years I knew her. The words must have had the desired effect, because I now began to remember what happened in Kansas City. I had a very faint memory of being in Noreen Taylor's hotel room, with my head under her dress, as I licked her pussy – something that I would never have willingly done.

The recognition of what had transpired must have begun to flash across my face, as Elizabeth smiled and said, "That's right, Bob, you're remembering now, aren't you?"

I nodded, and simply said, "Yes, I think so."

Elizabeth got up and returned to her chair. "Well, I'm glad you do remember, Bob, because let me tell you, my friend Noreen certainly remembered it. She said you were very talented with your tongue, and I'm not talking about in a way that would impress the audience at a scholarly talk you were giving." With this, she gave a hearty laugh, and sat back in her chair.

I understood enough now of what was going on to be greatly embarrassed by what she was saying. I must have turned beet red, and I felt very warm all of a sudden.

"Well, try as you want, Bob, you are unable to resist anything I tell you to do, as long as you are under the hypnotic spell in which I've placed you. I can't tell you how happy I was to get that phone call from Noreen after the Kansas City meeting, when she told me what she had done to you. We've both known for years that you're a big fucking pig, and she had waited a long time to get back at you. And I've been looking forward to an opportunity to put you in your place also."

My cognitive functioning was starting to recover enough that I could form a question. "What is it you want, Elizabeth?" I asked questioningly.

"Oh, don't you worry, Bob. You'll find out in short order. Let me say that I'm not going to do anything that will do any permanent damage to you, but I am certainly going to take advantage of the situation as much as I can. I was very pleasantly surprised that I was able to get to you as quickly as I have. After working out at the gym this afternoon, as I was driving past campus I saw your car leaving the garage, and followed you. As luck would have it, you stopped to do some shopping. Perfect!"

"Wait a minute, Elizabeth, you. . . " I tried to say, but before I could go any further, she cut me off.

"Forget about it, Bob. As long as you're under the hypnosis, you'll do everything – and I mean everything – I tell you."

Somehow, I knew that she was telling the truth, as much as I wanted to argue with her, so I gave up. "What is it you want?" I inquired.

"That's much better, Bob," she laughed. "And I'm happy to tell you what's going to happen tonight. First, I'm going to take personal advantage of the situation, to see for myself just how much are your, how shall I put this, 'oral talents.' Then, as I told you, I'm going to be having some friends over later tonight, and I'm going to give them the chance to see just what you can do. In fact, I just emailed them and let them know that tonight was the night. I'd been prepping them for this for over a week now, and they're all ready and rearing to go," she said with another laugh.

Hearing this sent off warning bells in my head. Something about a group of women here in Elizabeth's house made me realize that what was going on was not right, but when I tried to object, I just couldn't find the words.

Elizabeth must have seen the look on my face, and realized what I was struggling with. "Give it up, Bob, as much as you may want to resist, you can't. You'll have no option but to obey the commands of the person who put you under the spell." Pointing to herself, she went on, "And that's me!"

I just sat there numbly, listening to her words and trying to make sense of them.

"So tell you what, champ. Here's how we're going to get started. I need to get cleaned up, and have a little supper before the other women get here, but before I do, I thought we'd have a little fun. So follow me." With that, she rose, and I did the same, following her as she walked off. She headed up a flight of stairs to the second floor. As we climbed the stairs my face was level with her large ass, which was well outlined in the Spandex workout pants that clung to it, leaving every curve displayed. She was quite a bit larger than any of the women I had dated since my divorce, and was not the kind of woman I would be attracted to.

I continued to follow her as she entered what must have been her bedroom. There was a large king-sized bed with a headboard and footboard, with what looked like an expensive, hand-sewn quilt on it. She pulled back the quilt, exposing the sheets, and said to me, "Lie down on the bed on your back, with your head on those pillows."

I walked over to the bed, and climbed up onto it and lay down. Somehow, I had a very faint sense of what was to come. I couldn't foresee all of it, but I had a very hazy sense of where this was going.

Elizabeth began to peel off her t-shirt, which exposed what looked like a sports bra. "Whew, that was quite a workout I had today – it was pretty warm in there and I was really sweating." She expelled a big breath as she reached behind her and undid her bra, exposing a very large set of tits, which immediately flopped down on her belly. Propped up on the pillows as I was, I easily saw their creamy whiteness, each one topped by a caramel-colored areola with a quite prominent nipple in the middle. Exposing them to the air must have stimulated her, because each seemed to grow under my observation, from roughly pencil eraser-sized to more the size of a thimble in length and girth.

She then reached down, and putting her fingers into the waistband of the Spandex pants, pushed them down her ample thighs, exposing a pair of light blue panties. Or at least what must have started as light blue panties, because patches, including the gusset, were now stained a much darker shade of blue. "Yeah, I was definitely sweating in that gym," she said as she rolled the panties down her legs and looked at them, noticing the stains. I immediately saw that she was one of those women who trimmed her pussy; it was quite clear that it was not a full bush, but there was enough hair there to show that she did not shave. I also spotted what looked like beads of sweat stuck in the short hairs.

She kicked her clothes off to the side of the room, and proceeded to climb up on the bed. It was at this point that there was no doubt as to her intent. As she knee-walked her way up the bed toward my head, the scent of her sweat of which she had been speaking was unavoidable. She was quite pungent, and as she got closer, I could see her body still had the sheen of sweat on it in parts. 

Elizabeth swung her large right leg over my chest, and straddled me. I felt the dampness of her crotch through the shirt on my chest, and looked up at her face, beyond the swell of her stomach and large tits. She was smiling down at me. "Let's see just how good you are, Bob."

With this she scooted further up my chest, dragging what I could now feel were her pussy lips across my shirt. I could feel it growing damp as she got to my chin, and having done so, just slightly rose up on her knees, enough to bring her crotch right above my mouth. As she did this, I realized that what I thought was sweat on her panties and in her pussy hairs was not only sweat. The smell of her arousal quickly engulfed me, as she lowered herself down on to my lips.

My first instinct was to pull away, as the aroma emanating from her pussy was almost stifling. As I tried to turn my head to the side, she placed both her hands over my ear, yanking me back into place. "Don't even think about it," she said, her voice turning now to a more stern menacing tone. "You know what to do – start serving me, you pig." She used her thighs to pin my arms down to the bed, rendering them useless as a tool to fight her.

Defeated, and unable to conjure up either the mental or physical strength to resist her, I relented. I gingerly pushed my tongue between my lips, and tentatively ran it up and down the outer portion of her hair. My first instinct was right; it was clear that the wetness on her pussy was due as much, if not more, to sexual arousal as it did to sweat. It was readily apparent that this whole scene was turning her on. 

I licked like this a few times, up and down, until I heard her say with the same stern tone, "I don't have all night – I told you I was having guests. Stop being such a pussy and get your tongue in there." With this she laughed at her own joke, and ground her crotch even tighter onto my mouth.

I realized I had no choice, and pushed my tongue out further. The combination of her grinding onto my mouth and my extended tongue resulted in forcing it between her labia and into her pussy. My tongue was immediately bathed in her arousal, as the wetness started seeping out of her pussy, down my tongue, and into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around, touching the sides as well as top and bottom of her vagina.

"That's a good boy, you're such a good pussy licker, keep going" I heard her say, as she now was leaning forward and grabbing onto the headboard. Her huge tits, topped by nipples that had grown even further, were now hanging down right over my head. I knew that I was going to get no relief until I finished the job, so I did my best to use my tongue to stimulate her.

"Keep going, you little slut," she urged me on, as she continued to grind her pussy against my face. The short hairs were starting to feel rough against my face, even though she was lubricating it with copious amounts of fluid that was running down my cheeks as well as into my mouth. I don't think I had ever experienced a woman with as wet a pussy as this one. I could feel the rivulets running down my cheeks and pooling at the back of my neck as I had to continually swallow to keep from having her wetness build up in my mouth.

This continued for a few more minutes, and I thought I felt her orgasm beginning to build. I hoped that the end would soon be near, as I knew that most women were very sensitive after an orgasm received via oral sex, and would not want more ministrations. I pushed my tongue in and out, laving as much of the surface area inside her pussy as I could, hoping this would push her over the edge. But just as I thought she was getting to the point of no return, I felt her rise up and pull off of my mouth.

"Very good, little boy," she continued with her verbal humiliation of me. "But I'm not quite ready to cum yet." She scooted down my body, now placing her sopping pussy over my crotch. To my surprise, as she did this I realized that I was quite hard, and I could feel the wetness of her pussy soaking my pants. "What the fuck," I thought, being conscious enough to realize that I should not be turned on by this humiliation and servitude.

Before I could think more about it, however, I saw one of her large tits descending toward my face. "Open up, slut," she commanded, slapping me not so lightly on the cheek, as the nipple approached my mouth. Unable to resist, I did as she said, and a very large nipple plopped into my mouth. As I closed my lips over it, I felt her tit pressed against my face, and came to realize that she must be sweating even further as I felt the wetness of her tit against my skin.

I rolled my tongue over the nipple, which felt very rough. I used my lips to pull it away from her tit, and as I heard a moan escape her mouth, I realized she liked that. I continued that for a few moments until she pulled it away from me. I gasped for a quick breath, and as I did, she shifted over and dropped her other tit into my mouth. "Now this one," she said.

I did the same to her other tit, feeling the nipple grow even larger in my mouth. Another couple of minutes of this, and she pulled back up again. 

"Very good, pig," she said. I looked up at her and saw that there was now a sheen of sweat over her entire body. She rose up over my crotch and began to scoot back up again, and as she did, the cool air on my crotch made me realize that her arousal had soaked right through my pants. She dropped her pussy onto my mouth again, and said with a laugh, "Okay, back to work. Let's see if you can get me off now."

I began again what I had done before, pushing my tongue as deeply into her pussy as it could go. As I did this, she eased her body even further onto my face, as if to push my tongue even further into her. This now left her covering not just my mouth, but the better part of my nose as well, and I had momentary thoughts of being suffocated by her girth. But just as I thought I would have to fight to catch a breath, she eased herself up. 

She continued this a few more times, with an uncanny ability each time to be able to judge when I was running out of air. After the last time, she pushed herself back just a bit, bringing the top of her pussy closer to my tongue. It was an unambiguous signal that she now wanted me to service her clit.

As I withdrew my tongue from her pussy and used it to locate her clit, I was greeted with an unexpected surprise. As I found it, I realized that her clit was huge, almost like a mini cock. Having just had her nipples in my mouth, I could easily compare those to her clit, and found them to be roughly similar in size. I started to swirl my tongue around the large clit, and as I did so, she began to moan again. 

I could feel her orgasm begin to build in her once again, and I now tried to grab on to her clit with my lips. It was an easy accomplishment, given its length and girth. I sucked hard, pulling it away from its hood, and as I did this, I felt her body begin to shake and guttural sounds begin to emanate from her mouth.

"That's right, you pig, suck it hard, make me cum," she managed to get out. I sucked as hard as I could, pulling her clit all the way into my mouth. Her body shook more violently, and she screamed. As she did so, a violent gush of liquid came out of her pussy, a portion of it making its way into my mouth, the remainder spilling all over my face. 

Her body continued to shake for about 30 seconds as she came down from her orgasm, and I released her clit from between my lips. She was leaning fully over on the headboard now, trying to catch her breath. I too fought for breath, which was a challenge given the amount of her wetness that had seeped into my nostrils.

Elizabeth eventually lifted herself up, and I was grateful that it was over. I exhaled, clearing out my nostrils, and breathing in as fresh air as was available. The smell of her orgasm and sweat still blanketed the bed. But I was grateful that I would now at least be given a break.

She lifted herself off of me, sitting next to me on the bed. Her large tits were flopped down, almost reaching her belly as she sat there. She was still breathing hard, trying to catch her breath. She finally did so enough to speak. "Well, I have to say, that wasn't bad, slut," she said, still using the humiliating tone she'd been using with me. "Not the best I've ever experienced, mind you, but my pussy is satisfied enough for now."

I tried not to breathe too large a sigh of relief, believing that I'd now get the chance to stretch my muscles which had grown quite sore underneath of her weight for all that time. I started to rise up, but as I got my elbows on the bed, she used her hand to swipe the one closest to her out from under me, and my torso fell back onto the bed again.

"Wait a minute, you pig. I said my pussy was satisfied, but there's still more you can do." I quickly thought to myself that she can't want me to do that again to her.

With that she got up on her knees, once more, and threw one of them over my body. But this time, she was facing away from me, with her abundant ass now right in front of me. I was greeted by two large cheeks, with a well-defined cleft pocked by soft-looking hairs between them leading from her lower back down toward her pussy. 

Before I could gather my thoughts, she scooted up toward my face, and looked back over her shoulder. "You know what to do now, so get to it."

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To be continued



Command and Control Ch. 03



This is dedicated to KRR1957, one of the best authors on Literotica, whose stories have inspired this one. 

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I was immediately disgusted by the prospect of what was facing me. Here I was, lying here, having just performed oral sex on this quite overweight colleague of mine. And now she was expecting me to use my tongue on her ass. I had never been into this kind of sex, and while I had once or twice had a lover who had suggested I do this to her, I had refused every time. The prospect of this was just too much for me to bear, and somehow my superego kicked in to compel me to resist. I raised my hands and used them to start to push against Elizabeth's ass cheeks, trying to get her off of me.

She must have been surprised by my resistance and to feel my hands on her ass, as she jumped up and spun around. "What the hell do you think you're doing, slut?" she yelled at me.

I was caught by surprise by the depth of her anger, and I instinctively replied, "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

"Can't, or won't?" she asked, glaring at me. "I suspect you can do a lot more than you may be willing to do."

I began to get confused again, and didn't know how to reply. I simply lie there, her juices starting to dry on my face, looking at her.

"Let's try this again, pig. Either you're going to willingly stick that nice tongue of yours right up my ass, or I'm going to tie you to this bed and smother you with it. And if you don't think I can do that, you're going to be in for quite a surprise." 

I looked at her, not knowing whether to believe her or not. I knew that I couldn't willingly lick her ass because of my deep down aversion to that, it was just too debasing for me to even contemplate. But I simply didn't know whether the hypnotic state I was in would compel me to lie there submissively while she tied me to the bed and followed through on her threat.

Not hearing any verbal resistance to what she had just told me, she went on. "So what's it going to be? Are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

"I can't do it," I mumbled under my breath.

"What was that?"

I repeated, this time a little louder. "I said I can't do that."

Another look of anger crossed Elizabeth's face, and she leaned down, putting her face right in front of mine. But after a few seconds, the anger left, and a slight smile creased her mouth. "Well then, my little boy, we're just going to have to force you now, aren't we?" 

With that she got up from the bed, and I saw her reach down and open up a drawer of the nightstand next to it. My mind told me to get up and run out of there, but the connection between my cognitive functioning and physical responses was still not working. All I could do was simply lie there, watching her.

She reached into the drawer and came out with something in her hand that I couldn't see at first. She pushed the drawer closed with her foot, and stood by the side of the bed.

"Okay, get your clothes off."

I looked at her, not understanding at first. I started to ask why, but as soon as I opened my mouth, she repeated the command, glaring at me. This second time it clicked, and not being able to resist, I sat up and slowly began unbuttoning my shirt. As I did so, I became painfully aware again of the scent of her arousal in the room. It hit me once more like a heavy blanket over my senses as I finished the last button, and pulled the shirt off of my body.

I undid the button on my pants, and as I unzipped them, I couldn't help but feel how soaked they were from her pussy juice that leaked onto them when she had been sitting on me earlier and forcing me to suck her huge tits. After unzipping them, I lifted my ass off of the bed so as to be able to slide them off my legs. As I did this, I looked up and saw Elizabeth standing there, naked with a look on her face that I could only interpret as anticipation. I threw the pants over the side of the bed, next to my shirt, and then leaned down and took off my shoes and socks, throwing them on the growing pile of clothes. I lied back down.

"You're not done yet, my little boy. Get those boxers off too."

I couldn't get my hands to comply with her command. The humiliation of having my colleague do this to me, see me like this, was too much for me. The feeling of shame was heightened by the fact that I had a rather obvious erection causing my boxers to tent, a sight that I knew could not be missed by Elizabeth.

As if on cue, she remarked, "Well, looks like you and your little dick are enjoying this all a bit more than you care to let on, aren't you?"

I didn't know how to respond. On the one hand, I felt incredibly humiliated and degraded by the way she was treating me. Cognitively, I knew that I had been hypnotized, but that did little to relieve my shame. But on the other hand, I could not deny the way that my body was reacting to what she had been doing to me. I still couldn't will my hands to move toward my boxers.

"Okay, if you won't do it, I'll do it for you," she said to me. With that she dropped what she had been holding in her hands, and reached over and using both her hands, put one on each of the leg holes, and quickly yanked them apart. The soft cotton fabric tore, leaving the boxers in shreds next to me.

"There now," she laughed, "wasn't that much easier?" She grabbed the remaining fabric and pulled it from underneath me, now leaving me totally naked in front of her, my stiff cock very noticeably sticking it out.

"Not a very impressive looking little dick you have there, Bob, especially for someone as tall as you. I would have expected it to be much bigger, but guess you're the exception to the supposed correlation between height and dick size." She gave a cackle, and continued, "Not that it matters, since I have little use for that anyway."

I knew she was trying her best to humiliate me, and it was working. I normally felt very confident with women, especially when it came to sex, but the combination of the continual degradation she was heaping on me, along with the knowledge that I couldn't fight against what she was doing, had worn me down. I couldn't respond to what she was saying, and lie there silently in shame.

She bent over and retrieved from the floor what she had gotten out of the drawer. As she came closer to my head, I could see that she was holding some leather cuffs and ropes. She proceeded to grab my right wrist, and I instinctively tried to yank it away. She had a firm grip, however, and I was still not able to formulate a strong defense to her even though deep down I knew I ought to be fighting her. She wrapped the cuff around my wrist, and secured the Velcro catch tightly. She then took the rope, and tied it to one of the posts of the headboard. 

When she grabbed my other wrist, I didn't even bother trying to resist, realizing that I had no choice but to submit to her wishes. She tied that one also, and then proceeded to do the same to my ankles, tying them to the posts of the footboard, in the process pulling my body a ways down the bed so that I was about in the middle of it. She rearranged the pillows under my head as I found myself spread-eagled on the bed, unable to move more than a few inches in either direction.

"There, that's better," Elizabeth said, looking at me from the bottom of the bed with a self-satisfied grin on her face. "That'll make things just a little bit easier."

With that, she again climbed up onto the bed, threw her meaty leg over my chest, and straddled me again facing my feet. Now I could feel the dampness of her pussy hairs directly on my chest, without the barrier of my shirt between us. Once more I was presented with the view of her ample ass cheeks less than a foot in front of me, and it was quite clear what was coming. I steeled myself for it, knowing that between the hypnosis and the restraints, I would have no choice but to acquiesce to her demands.

"Okay, slut boy, let's go," and she scooted back toward my mouth, sitting up a bit in the process. This brought her into contact with my lips, and I began to lightly kiss her cheeks, first one, then the other, hoping that this might satisfy her. It was to no avail however, as she reached behind herself, and slapped me not-so-lightly on the cheek. "Use your tongue, idiot," she commanded.

I tentatively stuck out my tongue and ran it up and down one cheek. At the top of her ass I could taste her sweat, quite salty as I first touched each spot. Lower down, however, the saltiness was mixed with more of a musky taste, as I reached that part of her body where her pussy juices had dried after the long bout of cunnilingus I had performed on her earlier. The taste sensation was mixed in with the aroma of her arousal, which was still quite strong. 

I repeated the process on the other cheek, receiving the same jolt to my senses as I ran my tongue up and down. She must have been enjoying this, because a satisfying sounding sigh emanated from her lips, and she said, "Very good, slut, I knew you had it in you." 

Up until this point, I had carefully avoided her crack, which I could see had a rivulet of sweat running down the downy hairs that helped define it. But she now proceeded to scoot back just a bit, enough to make an unambiguous demand on my oral ministrations. Just in case I had any question about her intent, she made it clear what she wanted. "Use it on my crack, now, and I mean the whole thing."

Once more I resigned myself to my fate, and lightly began to lick up and down her crack. As with her cheeks, I could taste her sweat at the top of it, and at the bottom the mixture of sweat and her pussy juices that had spread over her body earlier. The downy hairs tickled my tongue a bit. Up and down I went, doing my best not to go too low, knowing what foreboding depths would greet me there if I allowed myself.

She seemed satisfied with this, as I continued for a few minutes, alternating between her cheeks and crack, and she continued to sigh every now and then. Just when I thought this would be the extent of it, I felt her lift up on her knees just an inch or so, and lean forward, grabbing my ankles with her hands. 

There it was, right in front of me, what I had carefully been trying to avoid the last ten minutes or so. Her brown, wrinkled pucker was less than an inch from my lips. I saw her look back around her shoulder, straight into my eyes, and she smiled at me. With an almost imperceptible nod, she commanded me to go ahead.

I resignedly stuck out my tongue and lightly made contact with her rosebud. It felt slightly rough and wrinkled, not unlike her large nipples I had sucked on earlier in the evening. I swirled my tongue around in circles on the outer ridge of her asshole, my saliva combining with her sweat and pussy juice that had collected there. It had both a musky and tangy taste, one I had never experienced before.

After a minute of this, I heard her voice again. "Okay, enough playing around, I want to feel it in there, pig," she commanded

Continuing to be unable to resist, I had no choice but to comply. I pointed my tongue right at the center of the pucker, and gave a tentative push. There was resistance at first, but within a few seconds, I could feel it give way, allowing my tongue to enter. I now felt that my debasement was complete, that the humiliation she was making me endure could get no worse. 

I poked my tongue in and out, and as I did so, she began to moan in a similar fashion to when I had been orally servicing her earlier. As I pushed in, she gently pushed her body back ever-so-slightly, forcing my tongue in even deeper. 

After another minute or two of this, I realized that she was starting to build toward an orgasm again. The same heavy breathing, moans, and shaking began to wrack her body. "Harder," she almost screamed at me.

I did my best to pick up the tempo, pushing even further into her asshole, hoping that the orgasm would come and bring me relief from the weight of her body on my face. Finally, after five more pistoning movements, it came, shaking her body even more wildly than her earlier orgasm. I could feel her juices again running down onto my face, this time off of my chin and down onto my neck and chest. 

She must have shaken like that for a good 30 seconds, sitting with her ass directly on my face, pinching my nose and mouth together. Once again, I thought I was going to suffocate, but just when I thought I would pass out, she rolled off of me and lay down next to me. I could see her huge tits bobbing up and down as she tried to catch her breath. 

After another minute, she was able to speak again. "Wow, that was pretty good, boy," she congratulated me. "I've never cum just from having my asshole licked like that, but then again, I've never had anyone do it like that before," she laughed.

I turned my head away from her in shame, unable and unwilling to make eye contact with her. I knew that the hypnosis had made me unable to fight back, but nevertheless, it was still incredibly humiliating to be used like this by someone I had no interest in.

It was almost as if she were reading my mind, though, because she reached over and grabbed a hold of what I now realized was my very stiff cock. "Just like before, you little pig, you enjoyed being debased like this, didn't you? Your cock does like it now, doesn't it?"

I realized she was right, that I had been quite hard through the whole experience. She immediately let go of it, and sat up, then got off of the bed. "Time to get us cleaned up and get a little something to eat. We have to get ready for our guests, don't we?"

With all of the intensity focused on my oral servicing of Elizabeth, I had somehow completely forgotten about her plan to have some friends over later in the evening. I let out a groan in contemplation of what was still to come.

"Aw, c'mon, sport – it won't be that bad," she laughed as she whacked my thigh. "I'll get you untied and let you get hosed off."