The King’s Hypnotist: Chapter Six
Tiberius Tullius tightened the wires attached to the woman’s head and smiled down at her in a smile that tried to be comforting but turned out to be more of a smirk.
“The Trance Induction Interface is harmless,” he said, patting her shivering hands. “you will not feel a thing.”
The woman nodded, totally not believing a word he said, as he moved to the control panel.
She was the second wife (or was it the third wife?) of one of the Generals. Her name had even slipped his mind for a second. Cat? Kitten? It had something to do with felines, he was sure of that.
He gently attached wires to his forehead, sat down on the chair next to the controls, and smiled at her.
“I will be there the whole time to guide you. It is just like having a chat with a person on another planet or with somebody in orbit.”
Once again she nodded, this time with some curiosity on her face, as she tried to adjust her position on the couch. It is unlikely she had ever communicated with anybody using the Roman’s faster-than-light machinery and, like a feline, she was starting to show interest in the device.
Tiberius slowly turned a dial and her eyes started to stare off, aimlessly, not really locking on anything. He made sure she was breathing normally as he adjusted the pads on his head.
“You feel relaxed,” he said. You really did NOT have to speak aloud—the wires picked up what you wanted to say, how you wanted to be seen, how you wished to position yourself within the shared space of the minds. But he found it helped him focus.
“You feel relaxed. Safe and relaxed. Nothing nor nobody will harm you,” he said, as the machinery made his inner voice sound like both tiny little bells and a warm Summer breeze inside her mind.
She nodded, still slightly in a state of confusion. He would have to slowly stabilize her inner mind, her condition inside the shared space, before continuing.
“You are on the surface of a lake. All ripples and wind. The lake is not very calm,” he whispered, adjusting some of the controls.
She whimpered slightly and found her eyelids closing, fingers jerking, as if grabbing at something to help keep her balance.
The room was one of the deepest in the Royal Palace. The King had given to him for his working space many reasons. The first was access. The huge elevators and wide hallways allowed him to move the TII into his new lab without danger of anything being damaged. It was also heavily protected from outside noise, extra moister, and even from floods by layers of reinforced walls and barriers. Heavily armed guards also protected it from intrusion from un-authorized people.
Nobody would come to stop him. Nobody would come to help her. Nobody would be allowed to interfere with the session.
“You need to dive into the lake, escape the bad weather, slip into the cool, calm waters,” he added as he monitored her mind’s reactions on some of the tiny color screens that covered the controls. Nobody but him really understood what the machinery was telling him.
After all, it was his invention, and he did not want others using it for themselves. Or against him. His paranoia was always just under the surface these last few days. Roman agents from the Senate were everywhere, plotting against him, planning his downfall. The Secret Police of the King were watching him when he went out to party, they followed him in the streets, and no doubt questioned his slaves when he was out.
“The deeper you go, the more calm it becomes,” he said with a smile. His inner image was not visible to her but she would feel the smile in the form of emotional support and friendly warmth. The inner him was a much better human being than the real one. Less paranoid also.
“Deeper, away from the storm and noise.”
She seemed to wiggle, as if swimming, diving deeper into the deep layers of the lake.
“Deeper, away from fears and sadness. It peels away, like dry, dead skin, as you go deeper,” he explained as he increased the power, just a tad, increasing the power of his words.
Like the water of the mind’s lake, his words flowed over her personality, touching these, doing that, adjusting her. She was becoming open to his suggestions. Part of it was the machines ability to bypass the brain’s logic, the filters of reason, the person’s common sense.
Yet is also depended on his skill, steering her, leading her, guiding her, till it was too late for her to retreat. She wanted to escape into fantasy, away from the harsh reality of life.
He would help her—and reform her mind in the process.
“Deeper, peeling away anger, pain, thoughts, and the noise of one’s mind,” he commented softly, adjusting his own wires again.
She seemed to move slowly, her mind focused on the depths and her body feeling light, transparent. She was losing parts of her to the waters, as it being polished, the rough scales designed to protect her character being brushed off.
“No thoughts, no pain, just joy at being so deep, so empty, so happy,” he said before stepping up to the couch and touching her face, checking her heart rate, and lifting up her left arm. It dropped like a stone back onto the couch and he nodded.
“You are nothing but energy now, to be shaped and formed,” he said, calm and cool, the machinery plugging his message deep into each cell of her being.
“You can be pushed, pinched, pulled, and played with like cotton candy,” he remarked as he checked his own heart rate. Feed back from the machinery, while rare, was still dangerous. Ironically, while harmless to the person receiving end of the treatment the TII had its risks to the operator. He was in danger of having his mind burned if something went wrong.
The price of power, Tiberius thought to himself, as he focused on the woman again. Kat? Kitty? Whoever.
“You want to obey your husband, the General,” he said, starting the insertion of the messages that would make her husband, General Hoth, happy. It amazed him how so many people seemed so racist yet seemed to enjoy beauty which was unlike anything from their own culture. Here was a General of German descent hired to train the soldiers of a want-to-be Egyptian King and he had married a redheaded woman he met at one of the Royal Functions. Not even a native of the planet but a daughter of one of the Celtic Priests. What a wild universe he thought to himself as he checked out the woman’s large breasts.
“You will be his good little wife,” he said, sounding a tad bored. “You will wait on him hand and foot, cooking his meals, making sure he always has money available for bribes, and being a good hostess at all his parties.”
Tiberius yawned and glanced over at his subject. He picked up both hands and massaged the flesh between her fingers. He then examined the muscles under her jaw. These muscles were almost always tense all the time. If they were relaxed it showed her total submission to the hypnotic suggestions. Her jaws seemed to be sagging slightly. A good sign. She seemed to be totally asleep. Yet the screens said her mind was very active, recording, learning, remembering everything he was pumping into her. In a hyper state of focused attention.
“You will do anything he wants because you are a spy for me,” he declared with as calm, and as soft a voice he could. “You will obey him, do what he says, so as not to arouse his suspicion that you are my total slave.”
She seemed to squirm a tad at that. No doubt some piece of free will trying to find a loophole in the commands being forced into her.
“You are totally mine to control. You have no rights. No will. No freedom,” he said with glee. “You are my property. My object. To command, abuse, use, and order.”
Once again there seemed to be a frown. But the screens flashed with blues, greens and yellows, showing that her mind was being remapped without a problem. If she was putting up a fight it was a weak one.
He smoothed out the lion skin cover of the couch and smiled. “Do not worry,” he stated. “You can’t worry. You are nothing but the core of the person, the inner goals and desires. Do you not wish to overthrow the boring woman you have become? Do you not wish to feel dangerous, be a sexy spy, become a important factor in the history of this planet?”
Tiberius stopped himself. That kind of nonsense may confuse her. Had to stay on target. Stay on target.
“Your job from now on is to serve me,” he said softly, looking over her reddish hair and dark tanned skin. “You will obey me. You will do what I say. If I ask you to get me tea you will get me tea. If I ask for your to hump my cock you will hump my cock. And enjoy it.”
He leaned back and thought about the next command. It was a new one he had thought up. A very board suggestion but one he hoped would cover a lot of ground and save him time.
“I can do no wrong,” he commented. “I am allowed to do anything I want. To anybody. Anytime.”
He added with a smirk, “And you encourage me in everything I do.”
He leans forward and opened one of her eyes, checking her reaction to light. While also groping her tits. Not like she would feel it anyway. If she did feel it, her state of mind would make it seem like the wind or a chipmunk or whatever made sense in her own tiny hypnotic world she happened to be experiencing. Why not have some fun if it hurt nobody?
“Now you will start to slowly make your way up to the surface,” he said, starting the end of the treatment. “Slowly, slowly, slowly moving back to the light.”
It took only a few minutes, to bring her back to full awareness, her happy smile having replaced her fearful smile from before.
“How do you feel?”
“Great!” she said with a shrug. “How are you?”
“Horny.”
She smiled and pulled him onto the couch. Her robes opened easily and his tunic was off in seconds.
Tiberius was never one for foreplay but he did enjoy testing out his new playthings—figuring out how willing they were to do certain actions, certain positions, even certain kinky acts of passion.
He really enjoyed being a tad rough. Slapping her face with his cock, slapping anybody’s face with his member, was always something he enjoyed. She drooled all over his balls and penis, begging for more, cheering him on.
Even when he grabbed her hair, forced her to kneel, and shoved his large manhood past her red lips, she seemed to cheer him on with her eager eyes. Her moans suggested she was enjoying it every second of it.
She not only enjoyed it, but seemed to want more, her hands slapping his ass, as if egging him on. So, of course, he forced his cock so far into her mouth that she gagged and choked and seemed to dry-heave, her throat muscles squeezing his shaft.
“Yeah!” he shouted as he moved his hips and held her head with both hands. He was not worried about anybody overhearing their sexual exchange—the walls that kept the noise out also keep the noise in.
By the time he started to cum in her mouth, he was no longer thinking about plots, spies, conquest, or power. In fact he was not thinking about anything at all as he closed his eyes, grunted, and pumped his cock in and out of her wet, dripping lips.