Cishet Male
Born in the 80's (cuz that's awesome!)
Looking to share hypnokinky erotica and celebrate hypnofetishism
hypnoswitch, sub-leaning
Minors DNI Have your age or birthyear visible before interacting!
LGBTQIA + Safe space
I am a cis male, 40-year-old, erotica author with a deeply ingrained hypnokink. I am also a budding hypno-switch and am open to most forms of hypno kinky play.
Please do not interact if:
-you do not support fair and equal treatment for all people. Racists, bigots, transphobes, misogynists (outside of kink), anti-LGBTQIA+ rhetoric, and fascists are not welcome.
-You are under 18
-You are a robot with a pretty lady as your avatar (fool me once, shame on you...)
Things I like:
-Hypnosis. I want to make new friends and connections with people willing to explore this on either end. Please get to know me before trying to drop me.
-Writing! That's what I bring to the table. Love chatting about it and brainstorming. Always happy to proof or beta read for anyone, time permitting.
-Femdom. I usually gravitate towards dommes who are female presenting, but that's not a hard rule. I am open to many genders, but a lot of my blog will feature women (cis or trans) on top.
Want to support me?
Most of my writing is free for all the thirsty hypno-kinksters out there. If you'd like to help me create more weird, sexy stories you can do two things:
Ask me for a commission! I'm open to take on most projects especially hypnofics
2. Buy a copy of my book! My hypnosis kink romance, A Trance of You, is available on ebook for many retailers. A $3 purchase goes a long way!
A Trance of You by Amus Cobblestone
You can find my other stories at https://mcstories.com/Authors/Amus-Cobblestone.html and https://readonlymind.com/@AmusCobblestone/
The Annual Hypnotic Arts Conference was a clandestine affair held in a discreet downtown hotel. Dr. Julian Silverman approached the registration desk, the weight of the silver pocket watch in his jacket pocket a comforting presence. The form was simple: name, credentials, and preferred induction method. Julian printed "Pocket Watch", unaware that the conference organizers maintained a secret chart of methodological weaknesses, a complex game of hypnotic rock-paper-scissors that determined who would dominate whom.
Julian's first target was a raven-haired psychologist named Dr. Eliza Vander, who had presented a paper on subconscious triggers. He found her at the bar, swirling a martini.
"Your work on embedded commands was fascinating," Julian began, producing his watch. "But I believe the most effective induction is more... visceral."
Eliza's eyes met his, challenging. "Prove it," she scoffed.
Julian dangled the watch before her, beginning his pendulum swing and his most basic induction. He had a feeling he wouldn't need anything fancy to bring her under. "Watch the silver glint... catching the light... back and forth... with each swing, you feel yourself sinking deeper... your eyelids growing heavy... so heavy..."
Within minutes, Eliza's head lolled forward, her expression placid. "You're completely under my control," Julian murmured, testing his power. "When I snap my fingers, you'll feel an overwhelming desire to join me in my suite."
Snap. Eliza's eyes fluttered open, now glassy with submission. "Yes," she mumbled.
His second conquest was even easier. A young graduate student named Mia who had been watching him with undisguised interest. He repeated the pocket watch induction, her resistance crumbling as the silver swayed rhythmically. "You'll obey me without question," he commanded, and Mia nodded eagerly.
With two hypnotized women trailing him like devoted disciples, Julian felt invincible. That's when he encountered a striking woman in crimson silk who introduced herself as Mistress Cassandra.
"Pocket watch induction? How quaint," she purred, her eyes the color of warm honey. "But so vulnerable to the voice of a person who simply won't watch."
"Vulnerable?"
But before Julian could react, Cassandra began speaking in low, resonant tones that seemed to bypass the watch that dangled from his fingers and even bypass his conscious mind entirely. Her eyes remained fixed on his, letting the chain of the watch hang uselessly between them. As as she spoke, the watch began to feel... so heavy...
"The sound of my voice wrapping around your mind... each word sinking deeper... you can't resist... you don't want to resist..."
Julian felt his control slipping, his own induction techniques useless against her vocal dominance. The watch slipped from his grasp, making a soft sounds as it hit the carpeted floor. The room spun. He could hear his voice speaking. Speaking to her. Speaking to his conquests. Speaking to no one but his own deepening trance. And when he came to, she was holding the watch.
"The watch is mine now," she said, lifting it from the floor. "And so are your pets."
Cassandra turned to Eliza and Mia. "You belong to me now, as your Master commanded." Both women nodded vacantly, their allegiance transferred effortlessly. "We're going to my suite. All of us."
The elevator ride was crowded with the three women and their new mistress. Julian followed, his mind foggy but aware enough to notice the other passenger: a distinguished older man with piercing blue eyes. Julian knew him only as Finch.
"Cassandra," Finch nodded, his voice crisp and authoritative. "Still using vocal induction? I thought you'd have started something more advanced than that."
"Amazing how such an old dog is always so obsessed with new tricks," Cassandra said rolling her eyes. "The voice is tried and true, Finch. And with a voice this captivating, what could possibly be better?"
"This," Finch said, holding up his phone and letting the hyper-vibrant spiral blast from the screen, painting Cassandra's face in ghostly pinks and greens in the dim light of the elevator. Her eyes dilated until they were nothing but pools of black and white.
Finch glanced at Julian as Cassandra was pulled into a digital whirlpools of impossible colors.
"Pocket watch?" he asked off handed. Julian nodded, unsure if he should be helping his Mistress in some way. "No dedication to the craft. You'll grow up someday. Take it from me. It always pays to have something new up your sleeve. Anyway, what room is your floor on?"
"Ten," Julian muttered, still not quite sure what to do or think. Cassandra was meant to do that for him.
Finch pressed the 10 just as the elevator doors opened on 7.
"This is me," he said. "Well, us I suppose."
He turned the phone screen to face Julian, who immediately became helplessly mesmerized by the spinning colors.
"You go back to your room and just rub one out Mr. Pocket Watch. And go ahead and let the fact that you were so easily beaten not once but twice turn you on more than anything. Being bested and humiliated makes you hard. Thinking about someone taking what's yours makes you cum."
"Yes, Master," Julian said immediately as his cock grew to its maximum stiffness in his pants.
"Come along ladies," Finch said, stepping off the elevator and letting the doors close. Julian blinked as the screen vanished from sight and the elevator rose the last three levels to his floor.
"Fuck," he muttered. "I was not ready for this weekend."
But as he lay in his bed, he thought about how nice it had been to listen to Cassandra's voice as it took him over. And how wonderful it had felt to fall into that spiral. And his fingers wrapped around his cock as he thought of Finch fucking his seed into the women that Julian had claimed. The women that had been stolen from him. He imagined Cassandra's wonderful hypnotic voice thanking Finch for ridding her of Julian. And cum erupted from his cock, spraying across the front of his suit and staining the material, as he imagined someone coming to his house and hypnotizing his wife more powerfully than he could combat. Watching her walk out the door with a smile that wasn't for him anymore.
Claimed. Stolen. Surrendered just for the feeling of it.
His cock twitched, wanting to harden again in his hand. "Thinking about someone taking what's mine makes me cum," he muttered, eyes unfocusing slightly. "Yes, Master."
This was originally requested on my old blog by @mr-wanderer1 with the following ask:
"Write a story with a group of people having different methods of taking control all together in one place. Dropping someone then getting dropped and rest is up to you you have the creative mind"
Your continued support is invaluable.
If you want to do more, you can buy me a coffee, or if you want a story written just for you, commissions are open!
Abbey showed to Mr. Fredrick's house at 12:00 sharp. Her lessons didn't begin until 12:30, but Mr. Fredrick liked his students to arrive early.
And it always made Abbey smile to please her teacher.
She walked into the plush anteroom of Mr. Fredrick's house. She could hear the bright, staccato chords of Mozart coming from the other room. Abbey knew she had to wait. She sat down on the waiting bench next to the coffee table and wound up the wooden, antique metronome that Mr. Fredrick always left for his students.
She watched the long, thin arm of the metronome tick back and forth. It was such an easy motion to focus on, to meditate with. She could just let all her thoughts go still so she could focus on Mr. Fredrick's lessons. She didn't have to pay attention to the muffled sounds of the lesson in the other room, or the strange grunts and mewls in between the stilted music.
She just had to watch the tick, tock, tick, tock of the metronome.
At last, the door opened and a milfy blonde wandered out, her gaze distant and glassy, her lips still humming Mozart's Concerto no. 6. She passed Abbey without glancing at her and staggered out the door.
"Abbey! Come in, dear," Mr. Fredrick's resonant voice echoed down the hall. Abbey rose to her feet and drifted closer to the sound of his voice, his easy cadence just like the soothing metronome.
"And how are you today, missy?" Mr. Fredrick said from his office chair seated on the other side of the stand-up, mahogany piano.
"I feel great! I am focused and eager for my lesson!" Abbey chirped, hardly thinking about the words coming out of her mouth.
"Wonderful. Let's have you put on your training clamps."
"Yes, sir!" Abbey used to wonder why she needed nipple clamps to play the piano. She used to wonder why Mr. Fredrick insisted on making her play topless. But, as her lessons went on and she made remarkable progress, those questions just faded away.
She sat down on the bench, her shirt hiked up over her boobs to allow Mr. Fredrick to hold the chain attached to her nipples. He smiled as he ogled her rack appreciatively. Abbey smiled back.
Pleasing her teacher always made her smile.
She began her recital, working her fingers over the keys, foot tapping and holding the pedal, hitting the chords just right until her fingers slipped sending out a sour ring.
"Oops!" Mr. Fredrick said, giving her tits a firm tug. "Let's start again."
Abbey moaned, took a breath and began from the top. She made it a bit farther this time until she lost the count.
Tug, tug...
Two tugs on her nipples made Abbey roll her eyes back in her head, her mind battered by both pain and pleasure. Mr. Fredrick pulled again, lifting her tits up while she reeled from the sensation.
"Hmm...not quite...now concentrate harder, dear."
"Y-yes, Sir!"
She began again, her fingers tingling with anticipation, knowing the smallest error would zap her brain as her teach yanked on her heavy breasts. Mr. Fredrick sent a wave of teasing tugs and twitching down the chain, goading Abbey.
"Just a little faster...faster...that's right...keep up with the tempo..."
Mr. Fredrick bounced her tits to the beat of the music. Abbey smiled wide, her eyes closing while her fingers carried out, moving to the subliminal commands of her piano teacher. Her tits were bouncing to the same beat as the metronome outside, just yanking and bouncing her thoughts away so she could concentrate on the music.
Abbey sighed, her nipples aching with each tug. She was in her flow space, just letting the music play itself while she felt the insistent tug of her teacher's fingers on her tits.
At last she finished, letting the final chord ring out in the still room. She wobbled on her seat, a little fuzzy from the torrent of stimulation on her sore, heaving breasts.
"Very good, darling!" Mr. Fredrick said warmly. "You truly are my star pupil. Doesn't that make you feel proud?"
Abbey smiled blankly, her mind still drifting on the music. She lifted her torso and stuck out her chest absently.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." she beamed.
Mr. Fredrick checked his watch.
"Hmm...another hour until the next one..." he muttered before looking at Abbey and pulling her up by the chain still clamped to her nipples.
"I want you to follow me now, Abby. Let's work on those other lessons that you're so eager to learn...Follow me, now."
He led her by the breasts down the hall and into his bedroom. She followed behind, letting each tug on her chest stifle another thought until there was only blissful subservience to her smart, handsome, so-incredibly-sexy teacher.
"Yes, sir!" It always made her smile to please her teacher.
So. That was that, I had thanked the 'tist of yesterday for being their hypnotee for the evening. It was a fun trance, and I felt no nice and floaty. And wet, of course, but that was expected. I did not have that much experience in erotic hypnosis, but I knew for years that it could get me going like nothing else.
Now I think back, I could not remember much more of the trance, but that is okay. It was relaxing, and I felt good.
Oh! The universal tree dots of an incoming response appeared.
"I did have fun too. I hope you want to play again sometime soon?"
Ha, it seems it was not just me who liked it. Great, I love it when I make somebody happy, even when I'm blank and not actively working to make it so. And the message dots are back!
"In fact, would you have some time now? I'd like to see what you think of something"
Hmm. I'm free this evening, and it aroused my curiosity.
"Sure, what do you have in mind?"
The dots are there, comforting me that a response is coming. They have such a nice pattern, I never noticed that before.
"I want to try some of the triggers I placed yesterday. Are you still good with having those lingering triggers and after-effects there, just for this weekend? [Be honest, and let me know when you are uncomfortable]"
I smile.
"Yes, I do enjoy feeling good all day today, and I'm excited to see what you have in store for me :)"
This time, the dots are there for just a short time. Not enough time to run through the full animation.
"Oke, let's start :) [You hear a snap and remove your top and wear only your cardigan]"
Hey, what do I read now? It is like my eyes are slipping over something. And where did that snap come from? My eyes slowly become unfocused and I feel strange. It is like a veil is being pulled over my brain. I feel myself become heavy, slow. A small, single pulse of arousal makes itself known. It is almost an out-of-body experience. I feel myself standing up, and my hands take off the cardigan. My t-shirt falls to the ground, and the bra follows. Then, without much thought, I put the cardigan back on. I sit back and shake my head.
Oke, this is ridiculous. Am I getting aroused with just the idea of playing with a hypnotist? Get yourself together.
"Ready when you are~"
There are the dots again. They are so soothing.
"I was wondering how you feel? Can you feel my influence already?~"
Ha. How should I respond to thatâŚ
"I do.~ :) To be honest, I even felt something of anticipation the moment you wanted to start, isn't that silly?"
Just a quick dash of the dots. I like how fast you are.
"Not at all! You are a good subject, and I'm sure you like what we will do today, you are free to feel what you feel. [In fact, those feel-good feelings will grow and grow]"
Oh. Oh! I love being told to be good. You sure know how to push my buttons. And you make me feel so relaxed, this is one of the nicest conversations I had in a while. I do feel good, I feel tingles all over my lower bodyâŚ
"Thank you~"
The dots are back. It seems like each time I see them, I feel calmer, and so focused on what you will say
"You are welcome. [You hear again a snap. You will lower your pants and find a comfortable kneeling position where you can have your arms supported]"
When I read that message, I feel my eyes glaze over again. The fuzziness in my brain, which did not clear away completely last time, returned as I stood up. I zip open my pants, and let them pool on the ground as I kneel before the chair.
I slowly blink as I read your next message.
"How are you now? Can you describe what you are wearing?~"
Ha, an easy, albeit flirty message. I know what I decided to wear this morning.
"Sure~ Some nice jeans, a white tank top, and a nice cardigan, that make me look good :)"
"Are you sure of that? Can you do a quick body check for me? [Describe your thought process here in detail and step by step]"
A what now? If they want that, they can get a detailed body check.
"For you, I can~ I have black shoes, they rest on the floor"
The dots flash by. Part of my brain is more focused on the dots than on my body check.
"So far so goodâŚ"
"And my nice jeans are on the ground?! That cannot be right? And I'm kneeling, that is not normalâŚ"
Although some part of me feels like it should panic, another part of me finds this hot. Really hot. And a large part of me is subdued, relaxing, and waiting for more to do for you, to watch the dots, feel good, and let go.
"But does it feel wrong? And is that your whole body scan? [If you want, you may play with yourself]"
One of my hands moves between my legs by itself, not a conscious thought of me needed, as the other one keeps typing.
"There is more? My cardigan is on, I see that. And I'm sure I would be cold without it⌠But now I check, that is the only thing on my upper bodyâŚ"
I feel that my head is so heavy. How could it hide from me that I stripped? This 'tist obtained so much power over me in such a short time. It is exciting, for sure. I rub some more as I watch the dots fade in and out as you type, just as my brain does. A vague memory drifts up, of you telling me that time between messages is for relaxation, for being guided by small animated circles that blank, just as my mind will.
"Such a Good Girl for me. Following me so well. Do you want to fall deep for me again?~"
Ohh, that feels so nice, so good. Words are hard, I feel slow. And hot.
"I feel like I'm already entranced for you, and I'm in this service position upon your command?"
The dots. There are just the dots while waiting for your next message. And my rubbing hand. I do not care when the new message comes, I just feel so good for you, both when reading what you have to say, or when Iâm waiting for you to respond. Lost in your words, in your dots.
"Good girl. You are indeed entranced. Drop for me, relax, and feel good⌠Letâs see what this evening will bring :)"
Happy Nonbinary Peoples Day from this genderfluid-neutrois vulture to all of you
Regardless of what kind of nonbinary you are, or what your ASAB was, or how long you've been nonbinary, or what kind of transition you're pursuing, or how you have to look in your day to day life
If you're closeted or if you're out, if you're proud or if you're scared, if you're questioning whether or not you belong
You head out of your house, walking down the street. You're not sure where you're off to, but it's a spectacular day for a walk. You make it about three blocks when you hear them.
Soft tinkling bells...gentle crystal notes drifting on the breeze...
Now you remember where you were headed. It was time for your meditation with Mrs. Thompson.
You wander down the sidewalk, lingering under the blooming cherry blossoms and then drift towards a large, mahogany exterior house lined with rows of bright flowers and guarded by a towering hedge wall with a wooden gate. She's there waiting for you, a big smile on her sweet face.
You remember the first time you came to meditation. You were out for a walk just like this but kept hearing the soft, musical bells tinkling in your ears, drifting along on the breeze. You kept looking for those bells, those pretty, relaxing chimes, until you found yourself outside her gate, just standing there, waiting to be let in like a lost little puppy.
Eventually she came out to find you there and smiled at you with her deep dark eyes. You always thought of Mrs. Thompson as some middle-aged kook. A chubby homebody who just puttered around her garden all day. But after the dark-haired woman with shock of silver led you inside and showed you her pretty windchime, you realized she was just mature...majestic... voluptuous...enchanting...
She was leading you again, always by the hand, past the gate, around the back of the house to her garden. You watch her womanly hips wiggling back and forth with every step, realizing how peaceful she makes you feel. Like each step blows away more and more of your worries...your cares...your troubles...
You can just be here and meditate in Mrs. Thompson's garden.
Finally, she guides you to a small gazebo surrounded by stone benches and pots of vibrant flowers. A long, elegant windchime hangs from the center of the structure, long silver tube flutes stretching down adorned with dangling bells dancing in the breeze, and a large, faceted crystal swinging in slow, lazy arcs at the bottom. There are a few other people seated around the benches, all gazing up at the beautiful windchime, but you don't worry about them or what they're doing.
You're just here to meditate with Mrs. Thompson.
She manipulates you in front of bench and softly pushes you down, her deep, plunging cleavage filling your eyes for a moment. She steps to the side, letting her hands brush and linger over your shoulders as you gaze up at the musical windchime swaying in the breeze.
Ding...dong...dong...ding...
The lilting melody fills your head, chasing away your thoughts. You don't need them. The soft, crystal bells chase them all away, leaving you tranquil...
peaceful...
pacified...
You let your eyes rest on the swaying crystal, throwing off delightful showers of colors in the morning sun. You feel so calm and happy...so lazy and relaxed...gazing at the crystal...meditating for Mrs. Thompson.
You drift there for a while, just letting the wind play itâs seductive, sultry tune on the chiming bells, feeling the bliss of a thoughtless, pliant mind. And when your gaze wanders for just a moment, over to Jill, the yoga instructor, seated opposite from you, as she stares vacantly at the dancing windchime with her hand shoved down the front of her elastic pants, you donât ask questions. Just like when you glance at the couple to your right, Mr. And Mrs Davis, the wealthy landowners from across town, and see Mrs. Davis stroking her clit with her sun dress hiked up over her creamy thighs while Mr. Davis jacks off his turgid cock, you donât let it trouble you. You just go back to gazing at the crystal, listening to the pretty bells, letting your thoughts dissolve with each beautiful chime.
Itâs so nice to meditate for Mrs. Thompson.
Meditation allows you to empty the mind.
Itâs so pleasurable to meditate for Mrs. Thomspon.
Itâs so pleasurable to empty your mind for Mrs. Thompson.
You canât tell where the words are coming from, but Mrs. Thompsonâs voice is so soothing. It just seeps into your mind with every sweet chime of the magical bells.
Itâs pleasurable to meditate...
Feeling so much pleasure...
So easy to let your mind empty when you feel pleasure...
You donât really know when your hand started teasing between your legs, all you know is that it feels so right. You let your hand continue to rub and stroke in a long, languorous rhythm that dulls your mind and makes it so easy to drift.
Itâs so nice to meditate...
Itâs so nice to masturbate...
Meditating and masturbating...
Masturbating and meditating...
Itâs so relaxing to masturbate for Mrs. Thompson.
You feel someone hook their slender fingers into your waistband and give them a playful tug. Your body obeys the hidden message and shrugs your pants down to your ankles before you slip them off. You feel so free and comfortable now, feeling the smooth stone on the back of your thighs and the cool breeze tickle your nether regions. You sigh, letting your hand play with yourself slowly, gently, just drifting on a sea of pleasure.
Pleasure as you masturbate for Mrs. Thompson.
You see Mrs. Thompson lead in more friends whoâve come to meditate. Charlize Beaumont, the head aide to the mayorâs office followed Mrs. Thompson in with a vapid smile and immediately sat down and started churning her fingers into her cunt while groping her fake tits. George Baker, the head of criminal investigations for the Municipal Police, sat next to her, stoking his oversized boner as he gazed helplessly at the windchime. Mrs. Thompson sat between them, gently running her fingers through their hair whispering things into their ears.
You stop listening and watch the pretty crystal while you pleasure yourself. Itâs not important what Mrs. Thompson says to the other meditators.
Mrs. Thompson lets you and the others sit and masturbate peacefully in her garden, coming out occasionally with fresh lemonade and fruit. She goes to each of you, feeding you from her fingers so you donât have to interrupt your blissful masturbation. Sheâs so nice to you. She goes around again, giving out squirts of lube to apply to your sex.
You could stay here all day...
Finally, Mrs. Thompson is sitting next to you, her sweet voice tickling your ear, her round breasts brushing into your arm as you coast in arousal.
Sheâs asking you questions. You answer and forget all about it.
Sheâs telling you things. You keep pleasuring yourself and let her words slip deep down where you donât have to think about them.
Sheâs telling you how nice it was for you to come to her garden, how she loves it when you come to meditation with her, how she knows youâll come back and how itâs important to keep coming and coming and cumming until you forget that youâre going to cum again and again whenever you hear the pretty bells that make you cum so fast, cum so good, so good to cum to her and you just have to cum right now and cum when youâre called.
The windchime bursts into a cloud of stars as your mind gets vaporized by a crash of pleasure. Your body seizes in ecstasy but youâre beyond that, floating high in space as your consciousness dissolves into pure, empty bliss and you let everything sink down...
Down...
Down...
Into peaceful , blank sleep.
Your blurrily open your eyes, struggling to focus on your surroundings. Mrs. Thompson is smiling her charming smile at you back in front of the wooden gate in front of her house. You smile back, still feeling peaceful and loopy from your meditation. She brushes down your shoulders and then turns you around to face the street. She gives you a little shove and a pat on your rump, sending you on your way.
You smile and drift down the street, feeling great and ready to go about your day, so happy that you remembered your meditation session with Mrs. Thompson.
This was a commissioned story set in a world where hypnosis is common practice and body enhancements are the norm. More tales to follow.
In this story, a randy delivery boy takes advantage of a voluptuous milf, but little does he know he's playing with fire. Read the full story here: https://readonlymind.com/@AmusCobblestone/HomeDelivery/
Greg trudged past another billboard with a bright flashing spiral super-imposed over a busty woman leaning forward and holding a bright silver beer can.
âYou need to drink Plowersâ lightâŚMake that cock bigger and harder when you drink Plowersâ and show her a good time tonightâŚâ
Greg tried to avoid staring that the hypno-ad, but the billboard was designed to pull him in. He found himself fantasizing about getting a cold, flavorless Plowers after work. His enhanced cock jumped in his pants at the thought.
Ever since the business-owned congress passed the âFreedom to Influenceâ act, hypnosis had been in widespread use by every business, religion, and scam artist imaginable. Youâd think that being constantly exposed to mind-melting hypnotic messages would have peppered societyâs resistance to mind control. Strangely, it seemed the opposite was true and most peopleâs will power had atrophied so far as to be led by whatever product line swung a pocket watch for them.
Ironically, because of this hyper-susceptibility of the masses, no one entity could hold onto control before another swayed people to their cause. The result was a strange negative psychic pressure that allowed âfreeâ society to operate more or less unhindered. However, most people were unprepared for the first wave of hypno-adâs in the form of subliminal emails urging the victim to increase their bust size, their penis size, to make their bodies curvier, fitter, more muscular. Now there was hardly anyone over twenty that hadnât succumbed to the body-modification industry and sported an eye-boggling rack or a porn-sized cock and balls swinging between their legs.
Greg adjusted his own monster-sized junk as strolled through his delivery route and up to the front porch of yet another house. He placed a medium-sized box on the porch table and rang the bell. After a few minutes, the door opened and Gregâs mouth nearly dropped to the floor.
Veronica Schuber stared at him, her flowing blonde hair splashing over her starry-eyed morning face. Greg was caught off guard by the slightly older womanâs sparkling green eyes, her high elegant cheek bones, and her plush, sensual lips.
At least he wouldâve been taken off guard if he were able to tear his eyes away from Veronicaâs stunning chest! Two miraculous tits the size of ripe watermelons peeked out from under the silk, purple robe she had hastily thrown on, their incredible, round curves visible under the neckline. The swell of her bust stretched the sheer fabric to its limit. Greg wondered if the poor woman could even touch her arms together in front of her.
Veronica cleared her throat, smirking at the young man as he jerked his head up, panicked.
âHope Iâm not distracting you,â she said, dryly.
âOh! No! MrsâŚuh,âŚSherbert!
âItâs Schuber.â
âMrs. SchuberâŚIâŚuhâŚhaveâŚI haveâŚâ
What was he there for again? Veronica cocked her eyebrow at him.
âYou haveâŚwhat?â
âUhâŚA package!â he finally spat out, smooth as silk.
âIâll say,â the woman shot a glance to his crotch, now painful in his ever-shrinking uniform.
âA package you need to sign for!â Greg clarified, holding up the box. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the parcel. Gregâs eyes were on saucers as she hefted the package under one arm while signing the electronic form on his tablet with the other. It was all he could do to keep himself from drooling over her plunging cleavage as she leaned forward. Every now and again, she caught him staring at her from the corner of her eye. She frowned and tightened her robe, clearly less than thrilled to have another booby-brained boy trying to sneak peeks at her girls.
âAlright,â she said, handing him the tablet back. âAnything else?â
Her hand drifted to the doorknob. In an instant, Greg knew two things. He knew he absolutely had to have sex with this busty goddess, and he knew if he didnât make a move right now, heâd only see those glorious tits again in his dreams. He had to act fast!
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a deep red ruby fixed on a fine gold chain. He had taken some basic marketing classes and learned a few hypnotic techniques. Greg knew that with a little bit of confidence, he could make this big-busted, blonde beauty sing just for him.
âActually, there is something else!â Greg said, holding out the ruby. He let it dangle just above the womanâs beautiful face, smiling as her green eyes darted to the gleaming gem.
âI was walking by yesterday and I say this very prettyâŚvery shiny necklace on the sidewalk. It wouldnât happen to be yours, would it?â
Veronica struggled to focus on the gem as Greg let it swing back and forth.
âUhâŚno, I donât think so,â she said, furrowing her brow.
âAre you sure? It looks very expensive and tasteful. I assumed it belonged to a sophisticated, breath-taking woman likeâŚwell, like you, Mrs. Schuber.â
Veronica smiled at the compliment, waving her hand at Greg dismissively.
âOh, thatâs sweet of youâŚand itâs Veronica, by the way,â she said, her eyes still studying the swaying gem.
âVeronica,â Greg repeated, his voice low and just a little softer. âMy nameâs Greg. Itâs wonderful to meet youâŚitâs very nice to meet new people âŚitâs nice to make new friends⌠so interesting to listen to new friends⌠donât you think so?â
Veronica blinked a few times, her sleepy morning brain trying to keep up with the strange man and his swinging, glittering crystal.
âYeahâŚnice to makeâŚnew friendsâŚâ
She was gazing closer at the necklace now. Greg let the gem drift just a few inches closer to the womanâs face. Veronica found her eyes crossing just a little bit as she continued to study the gem, eager to help the nice, interesting young man.
âM-maybe itâŚbelongs to myâŚdaughter?â Vernoica said, her words thick and slow.
âDo you think so?â asked Greg. âLook closer. Really think if your daughter ever wore anything this pretty, this elegant. Youâd remember if your daughter had something as captivating as this, right?â
âUhhhhâŚâ Veronica didnât think sheâd ever seen her daughter wearing a ruby necklace, but she was having trouble concentrating. Every swing of the ruby was so interesting, the facets catching the late morning sunlight, beaming them into her eyes. It was so distractingâŚbut still so very nice to watchâŚ
âSo nice to watch the ruby, isnât it, Veronica?â Greg asked, seeing the womanâs eyes begin to flutter, her facial features smoothing. âYour daughter would look nice wearing something like this. You would look nice wearing something like thisâŚsuch a pretty necklaceâŚit belongs to a pretty ladyâŚâ
Veronica smiled.
âYou like it when I call you a pretty lady, donât you Veronica?â
If anyone else had been so bold, the feisty milf would have scoffed and shooed them away, but Gregâs voice was so smooth and deep, and the endlessly swinging crystal was so pretty to look at, she felt herself blushing, basking in the young manâs attention.
âY-yeaaahhhâŚâ she slurred. Greg smiled and subtly shifted his weight back and forth on his feet matching the sway of the ruby. Soon, Veronica was drifting along with him, her body subconsciously mimicking the motion as it further lulled her mind into a fuzzy, happy haze. Her massive tits followed along, swinging easily back and forth. Greg had to check himself from ogling too hard lest he got too tit-drunk off the compelling motion.
âYou are very pretty, VeronicaâŚâ Greg said, sliding one foot through the door. âAnd pretty ladies like to watch pretty thingsâŚpretty things like rubiesâŚswaying back and forthâŚas you listen to my niceâŚsoothingâŚvoice⌠You like my voiceâŚmy voice puts you at ease, doesnât it? Just like the pretty, shiny red ruby puts you at easeâŚâ
âYesssssâŚâ Veronica sighed, her eyes sleepily drooping down, a vacant smile spreading across her lips. ââŚatâŚeaseâŚâ
âThatâs very goodâŚAnd the more you listen to my soothing voice and watch my pretty gem, you feel your body begin to get heavy and sleepy and tired. Just listen to my voice and realize that Iâm hypnotizing you and youâre just going to let your mind take a little nap as you just drop deeeeep into hypnosisssssâŚâ
Greg was prepared for anything. Sometimes his subjects just let their head drop forward, sometimes they flopped over completely and heâd have to catch them in his arms before they hit the floor. Occasionally, heâd encounter a stubborn subject who would reject the trance and then heâd have to dodge a vicious slap to the face. Veronica did neither of those and kept her eyes fixated on the beautiful gem as her torso leaned forward, her arms hanging uselessly by her sides, gently brushing her hanging jugs that splayed out, opening her robe slightly. Greg nearly drooled over the endless expanse of cleavage displayed.
âGood, Veronica⌠going so deep for meâŚdeeply hypnotizedâŚtell me nowâŚtell me youâre deeply hypnotized.â
Veronica spoke as if from a dream. âIâŚam deeplyâŚhypnotizedâŚâ
âThatâs rightâŚyou will listen and do anything I tell you to doâŚbecause you are deeply hypnotizedâŚyou will do what I tell you to doâŚbecause you are deeply hypnotizedâŚwhat will you do Veronica?â
âI will doâŚwhatever you tell meâŚâ the woman said, her eyes still swinging back and forth with the gem.
âAnd why will you do what I tell you, Veronica?â
âBecauseâŚI am deeply hypnotizedâŚâ she said, no other explanation in her empty head.
âAnd I am your master.â
âAnd you are my masterâŚâ Veronica echoed. Greg bit his lips and shifted his pants. What was it about mindless submissive women that always got his motor going?
âWonderfulâŚletâs go inside Veronica and get more comfortable,â he commanded as he stepped past her, keeping her eyes glued to the dangling pendant. He strutted into her house and closed the door behind him. Veronica stared, completely mesmerized, at the gem and Greg took the opportunity to lead her around like a puppet on a string.
âVeronica, are you expecting anyone? Is anyone home right now?â
âNo, masterâŚâ Veronica droned, her voice a faint echo. âMy daughter is out and thereâs no one else in the house.â
âExcellentâŚfollow me.â
He led her around her own living room, guiding her to the edge of the couch, her mouth hanging open and the smallest trickle of drool starting to ooze from her lips. Greg lowered the crystal and, with the gentlest push on her shoulder, Veronicaâs legs folded and she sat down on the soft edge of the couch.
âGoodâŚsinking down further and further âŚyour body turning to warm heavy sandâŚyour mind floating away with every swingâŚevery sway of the pretty necklace⌠my voice so relaxingâŚputting you at easeâŚâ
Veronica only smiled wider as she swayed in her seat, her green eyes magnetized to the sparkling red gem. Greg studied her face, positive she was stuck in her blissful trance. He reached down and carefully plucked up her hand, raising it above her head and let go. It stayed there, her befuddled brain too broken to even remember to drop her arm without his command. Greg took advantage of her hypnotic catalepsy and smoothly entwined the chain holding the ruby through her fingers.
âSwing the ruby for me, dear,â Greg said, brushing his fingers through her hair. âJust enough to keep the pretty necklace going back and forthâŚall your thoughts going back and forth⌠sliding left, right, left, and right out of your head⌠Just keeping yourself empty headed and silly for me.â
Veronicaâs hand obeyed Gregâs instructions and kept the necklace swaying in front of her like a beautiful dancer. The voluptuous milf was lost in a magical dream, a dream ruled by Gregâs soft, insistent voice.
âYouâre going to feel my hands running down your body now, VeronicaâŚmy hands feel so good on your bodyâŚevery caress I give you drops you deeperâŚevery time I squeeze part of your body,â he gently, but firmly clenched his hand on her shoulder. âYouâll feel pleasureâŚhappyâŚeven a little arousedâŚâ
âHmmmâŚyeahâŚâ Veronica mumbled. âWant you to touch meâŚfeels goodâŚhappyâŚhornyâŚâ
Greg let his hand stroke softly down her neck. Veronica sighed and her eyes fluttered even more, her pupils rolling up in her head and then back to the ruby. Her body sank deeper into the couch as she gave in to Gregâs control.
The eager young delivery man let his hands wander over her smooth skin, caressing her collar bone and upper chest before curving down and sliding over the fabric of the silk robe, his fingers tracing her massive breasts.
âMy fingers feel so nice over the smooth silkâŚyou love being touched, donât you?â
âYes, masterâŚI love being touchedâŚâ droned Veronica, squirming slightly under Gregâs hands.
âEspecially when I tease your nipple like thisâŚâ Greg rubbed and pinched the smooth, jutting bud of Veronicaâs nipple through the robe as a moan escaped her lips. âSqueezing⌠pinchingâŚfeeling goodâŚfeeling aroused and happyâŚâ
âAh!...Yes!...mmmm, yessssâŚâ Veronica melted under Gregâs hands, her arm trembling as it struggled to keep the gem swinging. Greg gave her a few more tweaks through her robe, smiling to himself as he watched her squirm with pleasure, her pink tongue barely lolling out of her mouth.
âThatâs right, VeronicaâŚfeeling so wonderful and happy and so, so horny as you sleeeeeepâŚâ
Greg pushed Veronicaâs outstretched arm down, sinking the hypnotized woman deep into trance, her mind open to his every suggestion as her head slumped forward, eyes shut. He pulled the necklace out of her hands and whispered softly to her.
âWhen I snap my fingers, you will feel an uncontrollable urge to show me to your bedroom. You will lead me to your bed and you will feel hotter and hornier with every step. Nod if you understand.â
Veronicaâs head drifted up and down. Biting his lip in anticipation, Greg snapped his fingers. Veronica immediately rose to her feet, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She floated down the hall like a sleepwalker as Greg followed, ogling her curvy ass through the short robe. Looking down, Greg noticed a trickle of liquid dotting the floor. He could practically smell Veronicaâs earthy musk coming from her dripping pussy.
When they finally arrived at the bedroom, Greg put his hand onto of Veronicaâs head gently moving it around in dizzying circles as he spoke âYouâre feeling so relaxed, so safe and peaceful, and so horny⌠you realize you are desperate to fuckâŚ.you want to make love so badly and you want me more than anything⌠you are so eager to get my clothes off and ride my cock so you can cum again and again and againâŚsound good?â
Wanted to go to sleep but then started reading Blu's blog and can't stop thinking about...swaying...titties...
swaying....back and forth...
squishing over my face...
want to obey...Blu's pretty titties...
Awwww~! What a good toy you are~
That's right. Let my pretty, perfect tittes squish and smush that empty brain of yours~ just lean into it, toy, there's no need for you to fight it~! No need for you to fight or think at all, not anymore~ not with me here~!
Let those eyes roll back into that oh-so empty head, and just let yourself give in to me and my perfect, pretty tittes~
Silly tropes don't define you. They're exhausting and clichĂŠ. Why would you ever fall for such trite nonsense? You're not a basic bitch hypnoslut, sitting around all day with your hands between your legs, waiting for a dominant figure to appear out of nowhere, tapping your forehead and activating your latent programming, are you?
You're not, are you?
You're not edging your brain into oblivion like thousands of other dumb sluts. You're not repeating degrading mantras all day, keeping you wet and compliant on the off chance of someone wanting to use your body as a fuckdoll or your mind as their drawing board for all their depraved fantasies.
You're not, are you?
Of course not.
But, why then, did you react that way when you read my words? Why did you squeeze your thighs together and feel a warm tingling in your core? That's not you. You're not that kind of toy. You're not easy. You're not predictable. You're not on your knees in your mind, drooling and bobbing your head like every other good toy is doing right now.
But maybe it's precisely because you aren't that, maybe it's because you aren't a silly hypnoslut trope, that the idea of becoming one, even just for a little bit, does have some sort of magnetic appeal. Maybe, just maybe, the humiliation of being reduced to something so basic, so transparently mainstream and pornographic, triggers something you keep locked away, deep down away from the prying eyes of your academic social circle?
That idea does have some power over you, doesn't it? The idea that despite your multiple advanced degrees, your exclusive book club, or your obscure record collection, you still can be reduced to a drooling, pathetic mess, ready to lick and suck any who ask just by being exposed to the most basic and silly hypnosis tricks... It's humiliating, yet also exhilarating, isn't it?
Sure, you only like esoteric inductions that drop you using references to obscure Icelandic folklore. You only trance for hypnotists trained by an obscure Nepalese mind control cult. Right...
Those giant, obscene, bouncing tits most definitely are not your trigger. Flashing gifs with pink text reminding you what your holes are for certainly just disgusts you completely. And the lazy spiral inductions, only the cheapest, most basic toys would drift away into a horny, fuzzy mess at just the slightest hint of rotation.
Not you.
Of course not.
So don't worry, dear. Your hypno hipster street cred is safe. I won't tell a soul how desperately needy you are right now, just at the briefest mention of a spinning crystal and you-are-getting-very-sleepy induction. No, your secret is safe with me, dear.
So just relax your muscles, and take another deep breath...
In for 1... 2... 3... Out for 1... 2... 3...
Mmm hmmm... Just like that... that's my good toy. It feels so good when you have oh so far to fall, doesn't it?
Gender neutral POV. Also read it at https://readonlymind.com/@AmusCobblestone/CompanyPicnic/
âWell, I wouldnât trust the new company protocol,â I said over my mimosa in the bright hotel courtyard. âEver since the merger, I heard a few people from HR say they donât trust agree with the new company guidelines.â
âHey! Whatâs going on over there?â said Ted, the person I was talking to, as he twisted his head. The company always threw their annual picnic at the fanciest hotel in town, probably just to show off how much money they had to burn. They always found the weirdest entertainment, too.
âIt looks like that hypnotist act already started!â he said before walking over to the crowd.
A hypnotist act?
Seriously? The company couldnât find anything less tacky? I wandered across the hotel courtyard with the rest of everyone to see what the commotion was about. The show was already underway and I could see the tall commanding figure of the hypnotist speaking quietly to a few volunteers who seemed rapt with attention.
Evidently, Jane from marketing had volunteered first and was now delivering the company sales pitch as a swashbuckling pirate.
âArrgh! And if ye be looking to plunder a mighty haul of booty, then ye better entrust your dublooms in the good companyâs hands!â
Jane was a natural actor and probably just got off on being the center of attention. I could see the hypnotist working their way through the crowd, whispering into some peopleâs ears, waving their fingers in front of others. Invariably, their victims wavered and then buckled one by one, dropping under the hypnotistâs trance. The hypnotist would leave them standing with a glassy look in their eye and then move to the next bystander.
They were at least twenty people away from me. I could enjoy the show a little and then duck out before they saw me. I sure as hell didnât want to be up there giving a TPS report in my underwear or something.
The office intern, Tim, pranced around on the stage, running up on all fours and barking over Janeâs spiel like a high-strung poodle.
âAvast!â Jane hollered as Tim grabbed hold of her leg and humped it like a horny puppy. âMind your manners, cur! Or Iâll have ye walk the plank, I will!â
The crowd was roaring with laughter, completely distracted as the hypnotist snaked through the crowd, pulling more and more people into their power. At one point, one of the waiters walked to the front and announced that coffee would be served shortly.
âCoffee?â said Cynthia, the busty receptionist, as she jumped out of the crowd. She grabbed her large tits through her sundress and bobbled them up and down. âWould anyone like cream with theirs?â
The crowd bellowed as Cynthia shook her tits in her hands and then suddenly looked down, confused and surprised to be groping her own chest. She shrugged dismissively and took her place in the crowd.
The hypnotist was only a handful of people away from me now. It might be a good time to make a strategic exit to the bar, but wait! What was that asshole Bill from upper management doing? He was stalking around the stage with his arms curled in front of him like a T-rex, running to hump every table and chair in sight.
âYaargh! Howâs a buccaneer supposed to get any work done on this deck?â Marketing pirate Jane moaned comically. âAnd whatâs your deal, you scabrous mutineer?â
âRAAARR! Iâm Humpersaurus Rex!â Bill roared.
It was too much. I couldnât stop laughing.
A voice came out of the crowd.
âSomeone get Humpersaurus some coffee!!â
âCoffee! Sure! Does anybody want cream?â Cynthia said, automatically repeating her boob juggling act.
Suddenly a hand was on my shoulder, putting just enough pressure to stop me from jerking away.
âKeep watching the show,â a voice said in my ear before I had time to turn.
âYouâre having a good timeâŚjust watching the showâŚ
ListenâŚ
Focus...
Let goâŚ
Youâre here to relaxâŚ
Watch the show and relaxâŚâ
Wait. Was this really how you hypnotized someone? No way was I going to fall for this!
âFocus and watch the show and listen to my voice because my voice is soothing and itâs soothing you right now as you relax just watching the show as you focus and listen to my voice as you relax for my soothing voice just watching the showâŚâ
What were they talking about again? Iâm just trying to watch the showâŚthey really did have a nice voiceâŚ
ââŚfocus and donât worry that your eyes are getting heavy because you wonât get hypnotized if you just watch the show and you close your eyes and you just sleep.â
Something pressed down on my shoulder. Was I falling? Was I floating?
âSleep.â
My eyes closed. I wanted to sleep.
âSleep.â
SleepâŚyesâŚsleepâŚ
âSleep. Balancing easy on your feetâŚfocusing on my voiceâŚâ
Yes. I was focused on the hypnotistâs voice.
Yes. I was enjoying the show.
Yes. It felt nice to listen to their voice.
Yes. I could just do what their voice tells me.
Yes. I could just keep watching the show. So funny. So silly.
Yes. I could remember to follow all instructions given to me by my hypnotist.
Yes. Itâs so fun and relaxing to be hypnotized.
Yes. Drifting up, awake and aware, but still secretly hypnotized and following my instructionsâŚ
I blinked and saw Nate, the security guard, in a barking match with Tim, who was on all fours standing protectively next to Jane, who, for her part, was now singing a commercial jingle in the form of a sea shanty.
I held my sides. I couldnât stop laughing. It was just so funny! I loved this show!
Finally, the hypnotist went over to Jane and whispered something in her ear. Jane let her head float along with the hypnotistâs commands with a wide, mindless smile on her face.
I strained my ears, trying to hear what they were saying.
ââŚand ready to use that power in 3âŚ2âŚ1âŚâ
SNAP!
Jane blinked, her head jerking straight up with the hypnotistâs snap and then turned to the other volunteers barking on the floor and humping the chairs.
âArrgh! Thatâs enough already, you flea-ridden sea dogs!â She took out a simple pen and brandished it at the volunteers like a magic wand. âNow prepare ye to suffer as I use this here pirate magic wand to turn you into a pig!â
She pointed the âwandâ at Tim.
âKa-Zaam!â She yelled.
Tim immediately swooned and then began snorting and sniffing at the ground.
âOink! Oink, oink, oink!â
âAnd you there!â Jane pointed her pen at Nate. âYou can be that dino fellaâs girlfriend. Arrgh! Letâs turn you into girly Humpersaurus!â She flicked the pen. âKa-Zaam!!â
Mark looked like his the magic blast from the pen had completely obliterated his mind as he started stalking around like a horny dinosaur. He marched over to Bill who was madly humping a tent pole and growled flirtatiously. Bill stopped and the two circled each other putting on the most ridiculous Humpersaurus mating ritual imaginable. Â
âAnd as for the rest of ye sea dogs,â Jane said, wheeling on the crowd. âI hereby declare that this ship doesnât have enough poultry onboard. Prepare yourselves to be my mindless flock of chickens now! Chicken Ray! Ba-KAWK!â
Jane zapped one of the tech engineers from afar with her pen and he immediately started flapping his arms like a chicken. She pointed again and again and again turning every third person in the crowd into a stupefied, bokking chicken.
I just kept laughing and laughing until I realized with a flash of panic that Jane was aiming her pen at me.
âChicken Ray! Ba-KAWK!!â
It was like some dizzying blast of energy slammed into me and suddenly my arms stopped being arms. I didnât have hands, I had wings. I only knew how to flap. I strutted on my sturdy legs scratching at the ground. I tried to say something, but I didnât understand words.
âBawk! BAWWK!!â
All around me, other chickens, pigs and cows were milling around while Jane cackled evilly. The rest of the crowd, who never got the business end of the wand, clapped and doubled over in laughter. One of the managers held out their hand to me.
âHere, chick, chick, chickâŚâ
âBawk?â What were they saying? Did they have something nice? I hopped over, pecking at their hand curiously.
All of a sudden, a loud, high electronic chime buzzed through the air. I could feel it reverberate through my bones, saturating my mind. All around me, the sounds of talking died and everyone wore the same empty, blank expression on their face. My mind felt like a clear, empty pond, the compelling chime holding me, peaceful as a floating lily.
I stood on my feet, my arms hanging, no longer chicken wings. The sound reset me and I stood still and peaceful, focused and relaxed.
The chiming bell faded and in the quiet stillness the hypnotistâs voice sounded crisp and clear.
âYou will follow us into suite H.â
Yes. I will follow them into suite H. It was so relaxing to not think. To not do anything but follow instructions.
I followed like everyone else, walking step by step into the hotel, down the hall, into the large interior space holding rows of chairs. I didnât feel the need to ask questions. I was so focused, following my instructions.
âYou feel warm. You will take your clothes off as you enter the room. This will make you feel good. You donât need to worry about it.â
Why was this room so stifling? It was unbearable in here. Suddenly the notion of taking off my clothes seemed like the best thing in the world. I should be comfortable, just like everybody else.
As we filed into the room, we dropped our clothes into bags held by people I didnât recognize. It was okay, though. I just had to follow instructions and not worry about it.
Cynthia from reception was in front of me, her wide creamy hips swaying lazily as she walked. I saw the hypnotist come up to her and put their hand on her heavy breast, groping and squeezing it.
âMmmâŚdonât forget the coffeeâŚâ I heard the hypnotist whisper.
ââŚmmmwannnâŚcream?â Cynthia muttered, sleepily. The hypnotist bounced her tit in their hand and then let her slip past.
As I entered the room, I noticed that all the chairs had desks attached to them, as if we were being corralled into a school classroom. The employees all started finding their chairs, naturally filling up the seats row by row. I took my seat, feeling the smooth polished wood on my bare skin. I kept thinking thoughts in the hypnotistâs voice.
Itâs important to listen.
Itâs important to focus.
Itâs important to obey and follow instructions.
Good students listen and obey.
Good students learn the rules.
Good students accept their lessons.
Good students donât question their teachers.
Yes. I knew all this. I knew how to behave in school. I knew how to obey and listen. I knew to listen to the hypnotist.
Once everyone was seated, a short lady with flaring hips and a dazzling smile walked in and stood at the head of the room. Marla Logan, head of HR, surveyed the dazed gathering with a satisfied, if somewhat distant, smile. She trained her eyes on us and I sat up straighter.
Good students listen to instructions.
âIâm so glad you are all enjoying the entertainment today,â she said, her voice clear and oddly muted. She had a nice voice. It was easy to listen to her, just like it was easy to listen to the hypnotist.
âThe company asked me to take a moment and clarify any doubts on the new merger protocol. I know there has been a lot of rumors flying around, but right now you can all relaaaaxxxâŚâ
Relax. I was there to relax.
âSome of the details Iâll be explaining might be a bit tedious,â Mrs. Logan said with a disarming smile. âSo, you should feel free to adjust yourselves. Move, get comfortable. It does feel very warm in here, doesnât it?â
Mrs. Logan let her black blazer slip off her shoulders. Two full breasts supported in a light purple corset bounded into view.
âAnd if you need to move or do anything at all to make yourself feel better, more peaceful, more at ease, then please do!â
Mrs. Loganâs pants followed her blazer. I gazed at my HR director now strutting on the stage in her lingerie with a giant grin on her face. I didnât ask questions though. It was important to accept my lessons.
âAnd if you feel the need to pleasure yourselves,â the middle-aged woman slid two fingers up and down her clit while her other hand fondled her breast. âPlease do! Self-pleasure is a fantastic way to relax and relieve stress. You should all masturbate and not worry about the boring things Iâm saying.â
My mouth hung open, my brain feeling stuck while my hand wandered across my body. It teased between my legs but then I pulled back. IâŚI donât touch myself in public like thisâŚ
âYou feel safe. You want to feel pleasure.â The voice of the hypnotist echoed through my head, like they were standing right behind me. âYou feel warm. You want to feel pleasure.â
Yes. I wanted to feel pleasure.
âYou want to touch yourself. You want to feel pleasure.â
Yes. I wanted to feel pleasure. I wanted to touch myself.
My hand went to work and I was flooded with waves of warm, sticky pleasure that drowned my thoughts and put an empty smile on my face.
I loved to listen. I loved to follow instructions.
âThatâs great everyone!â Mrs. Logan walked around to the front of the presenterâs table and lifted one of her powerful, tapered legs onto the surface, giving all of us a spectacular view of her pussy as she pushed two fingers in and out. With her other hand she held up a small crystal pendant, embossed with the company logo. She let it dangle and swing in front of her face while she followed it with her eyes.
I started following it too. I wanted to follow along and obey instructions.
âWeâre doing so well just losing ourselves in a warm haze of pleasure.â Mrs. Logan said in a dreamy voice, her eyes tracking the swinging pendant. âThe company wants us to feel pleasure. Itâs pleasurable to listen to the companyâ
Yes. The company wants me to feel pleasure. It feels so good to listen to the company.
âWe love to listen to the company. We trust the company. The company is never wrong.â
Yes. The company is always right. It felt so good to think what I was told.
âThe company knows best. We are loyal to the company. We obey whatever the company tells us.â
I could hear the other employees around me, grunting and moaning as they rubbed their pussy or stroked their cocks shamelessly. All of us were mesmerized by Mrs. Logan enjoying herself while she dangled the pretty pendant for everyone to see. I heard Cynthia next to me, chanting to herself while she frantically tapped on her clit and squeezed one of her round tits.
âObey the companyâŚloyal to the companyâŚobey the companyâŚloyal to the companyâŚOh!â
âYes! Yes! We are owned by the company! We will submit all our time to the company. The company demands all our attention. All our focus. We focus on serving the company.â
I could hardly even follow Mrs. Loganâs rantings, her voice becoming unsteady as she struggled to keep the pretty pendant swinging. I felt a desperate need pounding away at my mind, begging for release, but I couldnât cum yet. The company hadnât told me to yet.
âFeel our pleasure getting strongerâŚstrongerâŚmore intenseâŚfeel it as we get closer and closer to the edgeâŚâ
I was burning up! All I wanted to do was erupt and let my orgasm claim me. Iâd do anything! Anything the company told me!
So closeâŚ
DOOOOOOOOOOP⌠the electric chime sounded through the room. I felt it invade my mind, pacifying me. The storm of pleasure calmed down, lowering to a simmer as the beautiful sound calmed me and directed my focus.
Mrs. Logan smiled at us, holding a small pushpad with a black button. She glanced around the room as all of us gradually let ourselves stop masturbating and refocused on the HR director.
âThatâs very good, employees. The bell soothes our minds. The bell erases our doubts. Whenever we have a question, the bell is the answer.â
I struggled to make sense of what she was saying through my fog of pleasure. I didnât get very far before Mrs. Logan pushed the button. The sound of the bell washed over me and I didnât question her.
It was important to follow the companyâs instructions.
âYou are all doing very well,â Mrs. Logan said. The hypnotist walked over to her and whispered a few words in her ear. She nodded as her eyes fluttered a little and then she picked up her head, grinning at us like a hungry cat.
âLetâs practice a few more times before we sign our new company contracts,â she announced.
She lifted the crystal pendant. My hand went back to my crotch as she began to swing it while reciting our lessons.
âWe obey the company. We listen to the company. The company has so many great ideasâŚâ
I was standing in the sun again with a drink in my hand ready to hear the CEO and the board make their customary, bland toast. The rest of the employees are standing around me, some of them blinking and glancing around, confused. I felt just a little hazy as well.
Werenât we just watching the hypnotistâs show?
âLadies and gentlemen,â the CEO said, raising his glass to the sky. âThe board and I cannot thank you enough for making this one of the most successful, profitable companies in our sector. Believe me when I say that none of it would be possible without your loyalty and cooperation.
I found myself nodding along with the speech along with everyone else.
Yes. We were loyal.
Yes. We were cooperative.
Mrs. Logan and a few other HR interns were milling through the crowd, handing out thick packets of paper and smooth, shiny pens to everyone. Mrs. Logan came up to me and I couldnât help letting my eyes slide down to her plunging cleavage. She just gave me a knowing smile and pressed the pen and paper into my hands.
âAnd now weâve come to the moment of truth, the moment to sign on to our new, improved employee protocol. Now I know there are a lot of complicated legal terms in there, but we donât want you to worry about that. You can all just sign on the dotted line and not worry about it.â
I frowned. What was my boss trying to get me to sign? Something didnât seem right.
From the front of the audience, Mrs. Logan reached into her blouse and pulled out her pushpad, clicking the button. A loud, clear electric bell buzzed through my head.
Everything was alright.
The company knew best.
It was so important to follow instructions.
It felt so good to obey the company.
These were the only thoughts in my head as I happily signed page after page, initialing where Mrs. Logan told me to until I signed the whole packed. Mrs. Logan took the contract out of my hands and gave me flirtacious wink.
âGood!â The CEO called. âAnd now I think itâs time we all relaxedâŚâ
Yes. I wanted to relax.
I felt my hands taking off my clothes.
I could see the other employees relaxing, stripping naked, letting themselves touch and enjoy each otherâs bodies. I looked up and saw Mrs. Logan sucking off the CEO while a gang of men from management serviced one of the older female board members, laying her out on the table and filling her snatch while she writhed like a nymph.
I turned and saw Cynthia, her head wobbling on her neck in a daze as she struggled to get her sun dress loose.
I went over to lend her a hand. Employees should be helpful, after all.
âThere you go,â I said, suddenly filled with a strange desire. âYou know what I could really use after today?â
Cynthia gaped stupidly at me, her gaze running up and down my naked body.
âA good cup of coffee,â I answered for her. I didnât really drink coffee.
âOh!â Cynthia said, slightly confused before a new purpose filled up her head. She smiled and hefted up her fantastic breasts. âWould you like cream?â
She smothered my face in her cleavage. I sighed as pleasure rippled through me feeling her soft body squirming against mine.
I loved the company! I was so happy to work there every dayâŚfor the rest of my lifeâŚ
The new intern had been so eager to please. Twenty-three, fresh out of college, bright-eyed and desperate to impress. That's what made her such a perfect candidate for the program.
Mark had noticed it during her interview; the way her eyes locked onto his when he spoke, how she leaned forward to catch every word. Some people were just suggestible. It had taken three sessions in his office after hours, the metronome app on his phone, the velvet tone he'd perfected over years of practice. Now the trigger was set, buried deep in her subconscious, waiting.
It happened by accident the first few times.
"Claire, hand me that folder?" He reached across the conference table at the same moment she did. Their fingertips grazed. Bare skin against bare skin for perhaps half a second.
She blinked. Her shoulders dropped. A soft exhale escaped her lips.
"Sorry," Mark said, pulling back, watching her carefully.
"It's... it's fine." Claire's voice had gone slightly dreamy, distant. She shook her head as if clearing water from her ears, but the sharpness in her eyes had dulled. "What were we discussing?"
"The Henderson account. You had concerns about the timeline?"
She opened her mouth, then paused. "I... did I? I suppose it doesn't matter. Whatever you think is best."
Mark smiled. "Touch base with me later."
The next day, he tested it deliberately.
Claire stood in his doorway with a stack of reports, waiting for instructions. Mark walked over, letting his hand rest on her forearm as he spoke about quarterly projections. Just a tap, really. Three seconds of contact through the thin fabric of her blouse sleeve.
Her pupils dilated.
"I want you to reorganize the entire filing system," he said, maintaining the touch. "It'll take three hours of overtime. No extra pay. But you don't mind."
"Okay," she breathed, not hesitating. "That makes sense."
"And you'll bring me coffee exactly how I like it. Two sugars, heavy cream."
"Two sugars," she repeated, her voice soft as cotton. "Heavy cream."
When he removed his hand, she swayed slightly, pressing her thighs together. Mark wondered if she was even aware of the dampness spreading between her legs. The trigger didn't just affect her mind, after all.
By Friday, he was holding her hand.
They were alone in the elevator, descending from the twentieth floor. Mark reached over and clasped her fingers in his, interlacing them properly, skin on skin, warm palm pressed to warm palm.
Claire gasped. Her knees buckled. Mark caught her with his free arm around her waist, keeping her upright, keeping their hands joined.
"You're doing so well," he murmured against her ear. "Such a good employee. Such an agreeable girl."
"Thank you," she whispered. Her head lolled against his shoulder. "I want to be... agreeable."
"I know you do. You want to make me happy, don't you?"
"Yes. Want to make you happy." Her eyes were half-closed, unfocused, staring at nothing. The elevator dinged. They'd reached the lobby, but neither moved to exit. "Master..."
The word slipped out unbidden. Mark felt himself harden instantly.
"That's right," he said, squeezing her hand tighter, suddenly feeling much bolder and much less inclined to let her leave. "I'm your Master. And you're going to come back up to my office, aren't you? You're going to let me do whatever I want."
"Whatever you want," she agreed, swaying now, utterly pliant. "I can't... I can't seem to remember why I would say no."
"Because there's no reason to say no. Only yes. Only obedience."
"Only obedience," Claire echoed, and when he finally released her hand, she didn't run. She followed him back into the elevator like she was floating.
In his office, with the door locked, Mark sat on the edge of his desk and pulled her between his knees. Her blouse was silk, expensive, probably the nicest thing she owned. He began unbuttoning it slowly, watching her face for any resistance.
Claire stood passively, arms at her sides, letting him expose her black lace bra. When he pushed the blouse off her shoulders, letting it pool on the carpet, she shivered but didn't protest.
"Tell me to stop," Mark challenged, hooking his fingers in her bra straps. "Can you even do that?"
She blinked, confused. Her mouth opened, closed. A furrow appeared between her brows. Some distant part of her recognizing that this was wrong, that her boss shouldn't be undressing her, that she should object, scream, run.
"I... this is..." She struggled, genuinely trying to find the words. "Bad?"
"Is it?" Mark slid the straps down her arms. The bra cups slipped, revealing her breasts, nipples already tight and hard. "Is it bad, Claire?"
She looked down at his hands hovering over her naked chest. The confusion in her eyes deepened, then softened, then evaporated entirely.
"I can't..." she whispered. "I can't remember."
Mark cupped her breasts in both hands, finally making full, intense contact with her bare skin. His thumbs brushed across her nipples, and Claire's head fell back with a moan that sounded like surrender.
"Then it must not be important."
"No," she agreed, relief washing over her features. "Not important."
Her mind emptied out completely. All those concerns about propriety, about her career, about right and wrong... They drained away like water through open fingers, leaving only warm, golden compliance. She felt so good like this. So empty. So agreeable.
"You're mine," Mark said, squeezing harder, rolling her nipples between his fingers until she whimpered.
"Yours," she agreed happily. Her thoughts had stopped entirely. There was only sensation, only his voice, only the overwhelming rightness of submission. "I'm yours, Master."
"And you'll do anything I say."
"Anything." She swayed into his touch, pressing her breasts into his palms, desperate for more contact, more of this blissful emptiness. "Just tell me what to think, Master. I can't... I can't think anymore."
"You don't need to think," Mark whispered, pulling her closer, claiming her mouth in a kiss that sealed the programming forever. "You just need to obey."
Claire melted against him, docile and accommodating and utterly his, her brain blissfully, perfectly shut off.
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