The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I stood and helped her stand up while she was doing her post-hypnotic stretching exercises. “How do you feel?” I asked.

“Great!” She stiffened slightly as I put my arms around her, then relaxed and put hers around my waist. She nestled her head into my chest, and we just held each other for a long minute.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked in a small voice.

“Anything I want.” I never could resist a straight line. Her head snapped up and she looked questioningly into my eyes. I gave her my most innocent smile.

“Don’t tease me!” she implored, looking down again, frustrated.

“Well,” I said thoughtfully, “I suppose the proper thing for me to do would be to kiss you, and just see how things progress.”

She looked back up again then, and seeing that I meant it, waited as I slowly lowered my lips to hers. It started out as a nice kiss; tentative, then a little stronger, slowly increasing in passion. When I parted my lips, she followed suit, and soon I was exploring her mouth with my tongue. That’s when things got a little awkward. Her knees buckled, and I had to make a frantic grab for her, catching her under her arms, and hoisting her back up again. She was gasping for breath. When she looked back up at me, her eyes had lost focus, and they seemed to roll a little before finally settling back on my own.

“Golly!” she breathed.

Once again, I believe I did an admiral job of not laughing; not even a giggle. The last time I’d heard that particular exclamation was when I had been channel-surfing and happened to pause on an old rerun of “Leave It to Beaver.”

“If I might suggest;” I said quietly, “you could put your arms around my neck.”

She did as I said, which had the effect I had hoped for. The shirttail of her blouse pulled loose from her skirt, baring her midriff. As I again lowered my face toward hers, she surprised me by taking the palm of one hand, putting it behind my head, and pulling me to her waiting lips. I slid my hands around the bare skin of her waist, then up her back underneath her blouse. She breathed a long noise into my mouth and shuddered violently. I let my hands wander around her upper and lower back and sides while my tongue explored her mouth. I broke the kiss, and began unbuttoning her blouse. She was breathing hard, making her ample chest a moving target beneath the buttons, and I fumbled a bit.

“Fred, I’m afraid I’m not too good at this,” she said softly between gulps of air. “I’ve wanted this for so long, and I want to make it special for you, but I don’t know what to do.”

“Will you trust me?” I asked, and she nodded, blushing, as I finally finished with the damn buttons and slid the silken garment off of her body. Her breasts were perfect; high and rounded. I let my gaze settle there, while she reached upward to cross her arms to cover herself, thought better of it, and let them fall to her sides again as her whole body flushed. She looked down at the floor as she displayed herself to me. I took great pains to fold the blouse carefully and drape it over a chair back, then took her back into my arms and gently turned her toward the unlit fireplace. There’s a large mirror over the mantle, and it reflected our images back toward us. She looked up, shivered, and cast her eyes back downward as I turned to the task of the skirt, which, thank goodness, was much easier than the blouse had been.

I’d forgotten that she wasn’t wearing panties. Menlo, of course, had those as a trophy, but oddly, I wasn’t at all jealous knowing that the bastard had taken her sexually only a few hours before. SHE had obviously forgotten HIM, and that was all that mattered to me. I moved behind her and wrapped my arms around her, caressing her naked stomach and breasts.

She said: “Aren’t you going to take off your … Oh golly!” as I lightly pinched her left nipple and started rolling it between my finger and thumb, my right hand snaking across her abdomen and pubic area. She lifted her arms slightly, but obviously didn’t know what to do with them, and let them flop back over mine like the wings of a stricken bird. I was very erect, and as I pulled her back into me, I was sure she could feel my hardness against her buttocks and lower back. She glanced nervously up at the mirror for a moment, then forced her eyes back down toward the floor as she tried to cope with the feelings rippling through her body.

“Spread your legs,” I ordered softly, and she complied immediately. “Further!” I said, and she quickly placed her feet about 18 inches apart. My right hand slid between the creamy inner thighs, and I obviously scraped my palm against her clit, for she shivered violently and let out of long, low moan. Her pubic hair was short and rather sparse. My palm covered her whole area, and slowly, as I worked my middle finger into her slit, she began to move her hips rhythmically forward and back, grinding into my crotch for a moment or two on each backstroke. I let go of her breast with my left hand long enough to sweep her long black hair over her left shoulder, then I began kissing and nibbling her exposed neck while I resumed pinching and pulling her nipples. I had worked my finger all the way inside her by now, and I began flicking her clit with my thumb. She was amazingly wet, and my hand was rapidly coated with her juices.

Unable to tolerated doing nothing with her arms any longer, she raised her hands and grasped my wrists. She turned her head to the right, obviously wanting to be kissed, and I complied with her silent request, kissing her deeply, passionately. When I broke it, her lips tried to stay with mine, but I wouldn’t let her have her way.

“Look at the girl in the mirror,” I ordered.

She glanced up immediately, blushed furiously, lowered her gaze, then purposefully obeyed me and a brought her eyes up once again.

“I’m shy,” she whimpered, then groaned loudly as I flicked her clit with my thumb again. Her hips bucked, tried to find a rhythm, then bucked again. I started working a second finger inside her. “Oh golly oh golly oh golly oh golly,” she moaned loudly. She was tight, and I felt her stretching. Each time I flicked the clitoris, she would buck against my hand and the muscles of her cunt would contract around my fingers.

“Watch the girl in mirror,” I said firmly, breathing directly into her exposed ear. She stiffened, shut her eyes momentarily while a shudder rippled through her, and she let out an “AAAAhh!” sort of moan. Her body seemed to be moving in several directions now, wriggling from side to side, as well as back against my crotch and forward against the invading fingers. I was looking at her in the mirror to make sure she was keeping her eyes open, but her gaze was on her body, not on me. She made quite a sight, moving in my arms like that.

“What’s the girl in the mirror doing now?” I asked, again breathing the words directly into her ear while rubbing her clit as hard and as rapidly as I could.

“SHE’S COMING!” she shrieked, and suddenly several things happened. Her knees buckled again, and I lost my grip on her breast and I found myself literally supporting her entire weight by the two fingers buried inside her. Her body jerked frantically, grinding into my hand. She started an insistent “Aaahh, aaahh, aaahh, aaahh” sound that coincided perfectly with a spasmodic gripping of my fingers by the muscles of her cunt. I finally caught her below her breasts with my left arm, and after this went on for a full half minute, I slowly pulled my fingers out of her. My whole hand was soaked. She seemed to deflate, and I turned her around and held her tightly as her body was wracked by strong, intermittent shudders. At last her body became still, and her arms lifted and circled my body weakly.

“Are you okay?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

“I …. Freddy, that was …. I’ve never, ever, ever felt like that before. It was so … so ….” She stiffened suddenly and drew back from me slightly. “So selfish.”

“Huh?”

“I should have been pleasing YOU,” she said, with a sort of frantic earnestness. She began fumbling with my belt.

“Hey! Hey, there! Slow down! We have all the time in the world.” I held her by the shoulders, but she continued to work with the belt. She couldn’t seem to get her fingers to work properly.

“No, you don’t understand. I need to please YOU. I need … I need ….” She took another ragged breath and her hands became still. A tear slid down her cheek. “Please, Freddy. Please? You don’t understand. I really, really need to do this. I have to …. I NEED to please you! Please? I can’t get this stupid belt undone!”

“If I may be so bold to suggest,” I said quietly, trying to calm her, “perhaps you could start with my shirt.”

She looked up, then grabbed for the buttons of my long sleeved shirt. She was much more adept at those than the buckle, and soon had the shirt neatly folded and lying next to her blouse and skirt over the arms of the chair, which had suddenly decided to double for a clothes horse. Then she was back to the problem of the belt.

“Shoes and socks next,” I ordered softly. “Never leave your man wearing only his shoes, he’ll feel foolish.” She glanced down, then self-consciously toed off her own sandals, which were all she was wearing, and kicked them aside, out of the way. Before I could move to the couch, she had fallen on her knees in front of me, and busied herself with my shoe laces. The mantle mirror was tilted slightly, to allow people standing before it to see themselves, so I had a splendid view of her back side as she knelt submissively in front of me, bent over her task with the laces. I helped from time to time by placing my hand on her back to steady myself as I lifted a foot to aid in the removal of first the shoes, then the socks.

At last, there was nothing left but the offending belt and trousers, but instead of standing again, she raised herself on her knees until her face was inches from the buckle. In surprisingly short order, the thing was undone and the pants were off. Instead of getting up to further burden the chair, she folded them and laid them aside on the floor next her, then reached for the waist band of my boxers. The tent that they made in front left little to the imagination. I noticed that her hands were shaking badly again. Very slowly, as if unwrapping a suspicious package, she peeled them down.

Her breath caught, and she gawked at me. She’d gotten the shorts only as far as my knees, but she seemed to have entirely forgotten about them. “Oh my God!” she whispered. She just knelt there, staring.

“My shorts, please,” I said quietly, gently. “I’m about to fall on my ass, here.”

“Huh?” She glanced up to meet my eyes, then immediately back down at my prick. Her mouth was open slightly, and her eyes fastened onto my erect member and stayed there for another several long seconds. Then my words finally seemed to take hold, and she jumped a little. “Oh, sorry.” She slid the shorts the rest of the way down my legs and off, as I lifted my feet, one at a time, to help her; but her eyes never left her main item of interest.

“Freddy,” she said, quietly, reverently, “I didn’t know you were so … so …. I don’t think I could …. I mean, I think you’re too …. Freddy, you’re so BIG!”

She reached tentatively out with her right hand and grasped it around its center. She continued to stare, rapt, as she moved her hand gently up and down the length of it. Her hair had fallen across her face again, and I swept it to one side and over her left shoulder so I could see her. I saw her nostrils flare. She licked her lips. Her other hand reached out and cupped my balls, and she shifted her attention to this new plaything for a moment as she squeezed gently and rolled them in her palm like oversized marbles. I moaned softly. With a suddenness that surprised me totally, she had me in her mouth. I moaned again, more loudly this time.

“Teeth,” I whispered raggedly. “No teeth!”

She stopped and looked up at me, concerned, licking her lips. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry. I should have known. I’ve never … never … you know.” And with a slurp, she was back at it. She worked the shaft about half way into her eager mouth, pumping me, using her hand in a steady, rhythmic stroke, while she continued to play with my balls with her other hand. Her cheeks had hollowed as she sucked. Slowly at first, then more insistently, her body began to move, writhing like a serpent. She was starting to make noises around my shaft. I wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this.

She was setting up a little routine: taking me as far into her mouth as she could, pumping me with her hand while I was buried in her, then backing herself up until just the head of my cock was still in her mouth. Then she pumped her hand a few more times, swallowing even more of me, and started repeating the cycle. Her hips seemed to be clenching and unclenching as she did this. She was moaning more than I was.

“Stop!” I shouted suddenly, grasping her shoulders and pushing her back.

She didn’t take her eyes off the object of her affection. “NO!” she screamed, and lunged back at me, mouth open like a fish after a lure. I held her firmly. She couldn’t quite get to me, and she pulled my cock and balls toward her.

“Stop!” I said again, using, I thought, a great deal of authority in my voice.

She finally stopped struggling, and looked up at me, pleading. “Please, Freddy! Come in my mouth! Please? My roommate says that’s what every guy wants: to come in a girl’s mouth. You can come in mine. Please?” She started tugging on me again.

Rather than argue further, I dropped to my knees in front of her. She threw her arms around me and hugged me to her, shivering with excitement. “Please, Freddy!”

“I want my first time with you to be inside you,” I said quietly, holding her.

This took a second to sink in. She drew back slightly and looked between us at the cock that was leaning, wet and stiff, against her stomach. When she raised her eyes to mine again, I saw trepidation and a little fear. “I don’t know, Freddy. It’s so big. I’m not sure I can get it in.”

“It’s what I want,” I told her. “Will you try for me?” She nodded with conviction, and I helped her up and led her into the bedroom.

I lay beside her on the bed, stroking her body with my fingertips. She looked up into my eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Freddy. Tell me what you want me to do,” she whispered urgently, but I smothered her with another kiss as my response. She had a different taste, and it took me a moment to realize that I was tasting myself on her lips and tongue. Immediately, her body began responding to my kisses and caresses, and she tried to push me back. “No, please, not me again. I need to please YOU!” but she shuddered violently as I brushed her clit, then uttered “Golly!” as if to say “Oh, fuck it!” and gave in to her feelings once more. She ground her hips up into my hand.

Finally, I could stand it no longer, and I spread her legs and positioned myself above her. She reached down and grasped my cock, guiding it to its target.

“Promise you won’t stop, Freddy,” she pleaded urgently. “I want you to hurt me.”

This really confused me. “What?”

She looked up at me, a mixture of fear and determination in her eyes. “You don’t understand how big you are! You’re really going to hurt me, I know. Please promise me that you won’t stop until you’re all the way inside of me. You can hurt me. I want you to. Please!”

“I promise,” I said quietly, and began pushing into her. She was tight, but marvelously wet and slippery, and I had little trouble cramming myself into her trembling body. She arched her back, opened her eyes wide in shock, and started in again with her litany of “Oh golly oh golly oh golly oh golly,” until our pelvises ground together. She shivered and clung to me.

“Oh God, Freddy, You’re sooo deeeeep!” she groaned.

I began lifting my hips, sliding out of her to begin my rhythm, but she arched up at me, trying to keep me in her as long as possible. To complicate things further, she wrapped her legs around me and held me to her, impaling herself. I lifted her body off the bed with mine, then slammed back down hard. She screamed out a guttural sound, then gave a little mewling noise as I managed to slip out of her a little before ramming back down into her. The noises became the age-old sounds of love, as I pushed brutally into her over and over. Then she gave the same little “Aaahh, aaahh, aaahh, aaahh” cries that I was now beginning to recognize as her “coming sound.” Her cunt gripped my member hard, keeping time with her exclamations, and absolutely nothing could keep my floodwaters in check any longer. With a growl, I buried myself in her body as far as I could and felt myself spurt into her over and over and over.

Shaking and weak, I collapsed on top of her, resting and trying to catch my breath. I reached up and gently stroked her hair. “Are you okay?” I asked idly. It was only when she did not respond that I came to realize that she had passed out. I checked her pulse and breathing, both rapid, but normal under the circumstances; then rolling her over onto her side and resting her head on my chest, I put my arm around her, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

I awoke sometime later to a wet feeling on my chest. I was still holding her in the same position. I lay still and tried to figure out what was wrong. She made a little sniffing noise.

“You’re crying,” I said, making her jump a little. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffed, but kept her head down, pressed against me. “Nothing.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

Well, this was a new wrinkle. I thought a few minutes, listening to her little sniffing noises. “I want you to do something for me. Will you?”

She looked up me, tears glistening in her eyes. “What?”

I gently put my hand on her head and forced it back down to my chest, where she’d had it before. “Tell me what you hear,” I ordered.

She paused a few moments. “Noth- ….” She listened some more. “Your heart. I hear your heart.”

“Very good,” I told her. “And now, with every beat of my heart, I want you to relax. Relax more and more with every beat you hear. More and more relaxed.”

“You’re hypnotizing me with your heart,” she said quietly.

“Just listen, and do as I say,” I told her. She listened for twenty of thirty seconds, her body slumping over me, feeling heavy. At last I told her to look up into my eyes. She sighed and complied at once.

“Now,” I said sternly, “tell me why you’re crying.”

“I didn’t know it would be like this,” she said, the tears welling up again.

“Didn’t know WHAT would be like this?”

“Love.” She let the word hang for a moment. “There, see? I did it! I used the “L” word! I thought it would be all happy and like two lovers running toward each other in a field of daisies; but it’s really all uncertain and I don’t know if tomorrow you’ll want me to stay or to go, and now I’ve used the “L” word, and I’ll lose you for sure!” She collapsed back onto me and sobbed a few times.

Women! My respect for George Bernard Shaw was growing by leaps and bounds. “Let me guess,” I said sardonically. “You’re quoting your roommate again, aren’t you?” She looked back up at me, eyes full of tears. “Did it ever occur to you that that roommate of yours is just an empty-headed bimbo?” I continued harshly. She blinked, trying to read between the lines of my little tirade.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” I continued matter-of-factly. “Tomorrow morning, we’re going to wake up and make love again. Then, we’re going to clean up, I’ll make breakfast, and you are going to pack us a picnic lunch. We’re going to go to the park and study for a few hours, eat, and then I’m going to hypnotize you again, because I really, really like doing that. It’s a power trip, and it gives me a rush. Then we’ll figure out something for dinner, and if you’re still in love with me, you can stay and we’ll make plans for the next day. Understand?” I waited, and she finally gave me a teary, sheepish grin and nodded.

“And now,” I told her, gently pushing her head back down to my chest, “I want you to listen to my heart, and with every beat, you are going to relax more and more.”

In two minutes, she was asleep.

The digital clock read 8:35 when I was awakened from an erotic dream. It wasn’t all a dream, I learned, as I looked down and realized I was having my cocked sucked in a most pleasant manner. I stretched and muttered a groggy “Good morning,” but she must have figured it was impolite to answer with her mouth full.

Once again, I decided to deny her the satisfaction of culminating the session orally, and I forced her to lie back down beside me while I became reacquainted with HER body, as well. Just as it had been last night, she was soon in a very distracted state of mind, gripping my head as I suckled her breasts, her hips arching up against my hand and invading fingers. I paused long enough to clump our pillows together in the middle of the bed and ordered her on her knees, bent over against the pillows, while I positioned myself behind her. I fed my swollen cock into her cunt slowly as she groaned and writhed and eventually pushed back against me. Almost as soon as I was fully buried in her, she started making her “coming noises” and I was forced to hold her hips firmly to maintain control. Her cunt gripped me spasmodically, and I fought to stave of my own orgasm for awhile longer. Eventually, she stopped bucking, but as I set up a rhythm, she continued to spasm from time to time, and finally I simple couldn’t take it any longer. I leaned forward and grasped her left breast hard while using my right hand on her clit, forcing her to come with me. I swear I could feel her cunt sucking me. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.

We collapsed in a heap in the center of the bed and just held each other until our breathing returned to normal. “I didn’t even know you could DO it like that,” she said in a quiet, husky voice. “I couldn’t even move! I felt so … so … helpless. I felt … used.” I was thinking about this, trying to come up with some sort of apology, when she shivered a little and sighed loudly. “It was … wonderful!”

Then I decided it was time to get up and get on with our day. In the bathroom, I found a new toothbrush for her. Showering together was more of a challenge than I had anticipated. I really enjoyed soaping her supple young body, but every time I caressed her, she seemed to lose all semblance of concentration and began a gradual transition to full arousal. There was no way I would be able to perform again so soon after our intense morning exercises, so I left her to finish rinsing herself and started getting dressed.

She asked if she could wear one of my shirts while she used my washing machine to clean the clothes she’d worn the day before, and I told her to go into my closet and pick one. She was overjoyed by this prospect, and chose one of my dress shirts, rolling up the sleeves to her elbows. The shirttail covered her, but barely, and her legs were displayed to perfection. She was quite a sight, even in the large glasses, which she had retrieved from her purse, but I couldn’t help but notice as I finished preparing the coffee and oatmeal that as she came in and sat down at the kitchen table she was moving a bit oddly.

“Are you okay?” I asked, concerned.

She blushed beautifully. “I’m a little sore,” she said meekly. “You don’t realize how … how … big you are.”

This was yet another new wrinkle. I hadn’t said anything about soreness in my hypnotic induction. Was it possible I really WAS too big for her? Suddenly, I wasn’t sure where the line between fantasy and reality was myself. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” I said sincerely.

“Oh, no, I like it!” she blurted, then looked down and blushed even more. “I mean, it reminds me of … what happened. I can’t move without thinking about it. It doesn’t hurt too much, and I think it’s … kind of nice.”

I opened the kitchen door to let in the warm spring morning air, then set the bowls of oatmeal on the table.

“Eat up,” I told her. “My Saturday routine always includes a study session in the park, weather permitting. I have a lot to do.”

“Not me,” she announced, and when I looked up questioningly, she said: “I’m a graduating senior. I don’t have to take finals next week. I’m free!”

“Oh no you’re not,” I told her sternly, and snatched a yellow legal pad off the counter and tossed it to her. It contained my notes from the interview with the Indian lady yesterday. I quickly summarized the story for her. “It’s yours,” I told her. “You write it, I’ll edit it. I’ll show you how to sell it to a major, and we’ll split the by-line and the fee.” She acted as if I’d given her a pot of gold. She was immensely excited, and started asking dozens of questions, all of them intelligent and pertinent. She wanted a follow-up interview and some time to do some research on-line.

And then in mid-sentence, she froze. She was looking past me, toward the screen door, and she had such a look of absolute horror on her face that I had a pretty good idea what I was going to see even before I turned around and looked for myself.

Re-enter the antagonist, stage right.

He was standing at the screen door, looking in and smiling broadly. “Good morning, Professor!” he said cheerily, then glanced at my dining companion and nodded. “Good morning, Brenda.”

“What do you want, Menlo?” I asked icily, keeping my seat.

“I have another little gift for you, Professor. A peace offering. Do you mind if I come in?”

“I’m not a professor,” I told him flatly.

He shrugged. “Semantics! You get your PhD in two weeks, and in three, you’ll be an esteemed member of the faculty of this prestigious university.”

I regarded him curiously. “Who have you been talking to?”

“You should have come to my show last night,” he said expansively. “I do believe it was one of my best performances ever! I had the audience eating out of my hand. One of the highlights was when I entranced a lovely lady by the name of Wanda Wilkinson.”

I tried to suppress a grin and failed. “You hypnotized Dean Wilkinson?”

“Yes, an excellent subject. I persuaded her, and her husband, as well, to come backstage after the performance, and we all had a little chat.” He paused for effect. “Why, did you know that the Dean is prepared to pay you ten thousand dollars a year over and above what she is now offering in the contract you’re about to sign?”

I regarded him even more suspiciously. “What did you do to her?”

He crossed his heart with his fingers. “Not a thing, I assure you. Well …. I DID make a couple small suggestions about her sex life (her husband was a very good subject, as well). I think they’ll both be more, shall we say, contented with their home life in the future. But as far as your salary is concerned, that was just something I happened to learn. It’s already in her budget. She’s hoping you won’t ask for it. She’s planning to use it for a new desk and drapes in her office; but she’s willing to pay if you demand it. There’s a rumor that a college downstate has already made you an offer.”

Well, that was true. “The bitch!” I said under my breath.

“Truce?” asked Menlo.

I turned and looked at Brenda. She was watching him the way a mouse watches a snake.

“Okay,” I said. “Come in and tell us what’s on your mind.”

He opened the door, smiled broadly, and took a seat to my right, opposite Brenda. “I really just stopped by to give you another little gift,” he said happily. He fished around in his jacket pocket for a moment, and came out holding something in his closed fist. He held the fist out, over the table for a long moment, letting the suspense build dramatically, then opened his hand and let the small gold pocket watch fall. He retained the end of the gold chain in his fingers, and when the watch fell to within a few inches of the table top, it bounced and swung crazily on the chain.

To my left, Brenda gave a sudden gasp, and I turned and watched her in awe. Her eyes were wide, and fixed on the watch as it danced on its chain. Slowly, she turned her head almost 90-degrees to the right, then back to the left, but her eyes wouldn’t, or couldn’t, leave the small golden timepiece. Finally, she faced straight ahead, but her head jerked slowly from side to side in a negative gesture. Her lips were parted slightly, and they formed the word “no,” but no sound came out. She was definitely frightened.

As I turned back to tell Menlo to cease and desist, he gave the chain a little tug and captured the watch, chain and all, in his hand again. Immediately, there was a scraping noise and a crash as Brenda stood up so suddenly that her chair fell over backwards. Then she sprinted out of the kitchen and into the living room. I looked at Menlo sternly.

“What the hell …?”

“My gift to you,” he said, holding the watch out to me. Dumbly, I took it.

Suddenly, he arose and walked over to the counter. “Coffee smells good,” he said. “Mind if I have some?”

I stared at him in open-mouthed amazement. What a pompous ass!

He opened a cupboard. “Cups in here?” he asked, glancing at me, and when he realized that all he was going to get in reply was astonished indignation, he opened it. “Hmm, guess not.” He shut it and opened another. “Ah, here they are.” He took out a cup and poured himself some coffee, then sat back down facing me.

“Professor,” he said, “we need to talk.” He sipped the coffee for a moment, then glanced up at me. He must have seen a little of the same anger he’d witnessed yesterday, for he suddenly assumed a startled air and put up a protesting hand. “Whoa, now! Don’t start thinking those murderous thoughts! I’m on your side!”

“MY side?”

“Well, okay then, Brenda’s side. You’ve obviously figured out a lot of things since I … uh … was forced to take my leave of you yesterday. I can see that you’ve figured out how to hypnotize her. Otherwise, she’d have shown up at my act last night. You’ve probably learned a lot of my little tricks. But there are some things I need to tell you. About Brenda, I mean. About the watch.”

I looked at the shiny timepiece in my palm. “What about Brenda?”

“Well, if you haven’t guessed by now, it’s not the hypnosis she’s addicted to at all. It’s the act of emotional surrender. It can be extremely intoxicating to some women, and your girl certainly falls into the category. I know the type very well. Believe me, if you don’t maintain your current intervention, Brenda will soon be just another battered woman in just another abusive marriage. She lives to be dominated, and frankly, it amazes me that she’s been able to evade it this long. She seems to have done it through sheer intellect.

“For her, hypnosis was simply a gateway to total emotional abandonment. Watch her closely the next time you put her under. When you order her to ‘surrender,’ that’s when it happens: an almost physical rush. She lives for it. She craves it. And subconsciously, her total obedience is the small price she happily pays for it.

“Now, the watch is a little different. I’ve programmed her to fight the watch. She is allowed to … no, she is FORCED to struggle against the oncoming loss of control, even though it’s exactly what she subconsciously desires the most. She will fight the watch, but the battle is lost even before it begins. She will know that, but will still struggle. Each command—to become heavy, to become sleepy – will be a little defeat leading up to the moment you command her to surrender and sleep. And the loss of control, when the watch is involved, will be infinitely sweet to her simply because it is so utterly overwhelming.” He was silent then, letting the instructions sink in, calmly sipping his coffee.

“Why do you do this, Menlo?” I asked, unable to silence my growing morbid fascination.

He shrugged. “I’m a romantic,” he answered matter-of-factly. “I worry about my girls.”

I was unable to stifle my look of disbelief. “WHAT?”

He raised his right hand again. “As God is my witness,” he swore. “I’m surprised that a man of letters wouldn’t see the poetry of it; the humanity of it.” Again, my expression put him on the defensive. “Look,” he continued, “I’m not such a bad guy.” (Ah, justification, I thought. Robbers, murderers, rapists, assholes; they all consider themselves justified.) “Okay, so I need a little companionship sometimes, but I always leave my girls better than when I found them. I help them find happiness. A lot of time, I help them find true love! Brenda has! The girl’s bananas over you. And you’ve got to admit, you’re pretty hung up on her, too. Right? And now, she’s all yours: body and soul. She belongs to you. She WANTS to belong to you. But I had to make sure you were okay with this. I’m responsible.” He shrugged and repeated a mumbled “I had to make sure.”

A rapist with a conscience. “There’s got to be more to it than that,” I said, accusingly.

“Well, for awhile there, I thought she’d make a good third. I was wrong.”

“Third?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Give me the short course.”

He grinned. It was obvious he loved an audience.

“Well,” he began, “I discovered pretty early-on that I could get a lot of dames through hypnosis. I started when I was in college, and by the time I was a senior, I was using various lines and techniques to get girls to ask me to put them under. They expected sex to be a part of it, and I certainly didn’t do anything to discourage that aspect.

“I’ve wanted to be in the theater for as long as I can remember. Only one small problem with that: I can’t act. I tried out for every play in high school and college, but the best part I could land was ‘assistant lighting director.’ When I saw a professional hypnotist for the first time, I suddenly knew my calling. I dropped out of school, went on the road with three different pro’s, learned their techniques, all the angles, all the jokes. Out east, if you’ve got an act, your first real shot is in the Catskills. Lots of acts, lots of agents looking for fresh talent. But the money’s shitty. It was really rough. And to make matters worse, I fell in love with a hooker.

“Jennifer was working as a stripper in a joint across town from the nightclub I was appearing in three nights a week. God, she was gorgeous! A body that wouldn’t quit. A lot of the girls hooked on the side. I saved up my pennies and hired her for an hour. She had a “look” about her. Hard to describe, exactly, but I’d seen it in several girls I’d hypnotized and bedded in college. Sort of a lost, hungry look, and she was almost painfully shy. There were other signs as well, but they all combined to give me the feeling that I’d have no problem hypnotizing her. And in 15 minutes, I had. Best fifty dollars I’ve ever spent, even if we didn’t have sex. By the end of the hour, I’d taken her deeper than I’d ever taken any other woman. She met me later that night, when we more than made up for the lost fifty bucks, and she practically begged me to put her under again. She was my first ‘Natural.’ Within a week, under my ‘supervision,’ she’d quit hooking and started waitressing. We got married, and let me tell you, times were tough.

“I did a couple hypnosis jobs on the side: you know, weight loss, kicking smoking, that sort of thing. A couple years ago, I helped a CPA with a bad case of stage freight who had to give a presentation, and as partial payment he set me up for a financial planning session with one of the firm’s junior partners. Well, Miss Junior Partner turned out to be Suzy, who I immediately realized had all of the telltale little traits that Jennifer did that put her into the “Prospective Natural” category. Our planning session took place after normal working hours, and she looked pretty stressed. It didn’t take me long at all to help her relax; and I mean REALLY relax. She went under just like Jennifer had.

But unlike Jennifer, Suzy was rich. She was the only daughter of a wealth businessman who had died a few years before and she’d received a third of the estate (along with papa’s wives numbers one and two). Well, with a few repeat “planning sessions,” Suzy discovered that she was madly in love me. Jennifer and I moved into her sizable home in the Pokonos, and I was suddenly very well off. With some extra-deep inductions, I was able to alter both ladies’ proclivities to the point that they enjoyed each other’s sexual attentions almost as much as they enjoyed mine.

“And that, at last, brings me to the concept of a ‘third.’ I like my sex better one-on-one. As I travel around with my act, I’m always on the lookout for another Natural to add to my little harem. That way, when I pick one girl to sleep with, the other two will be able to keep each other company.”

He got up, walked to the sink, and started rinsing out his coffee cup. “But I haven’t been able to find the right one yet. When I do spot a Natural, she’s either already involved with someone, or she’s just not … right.” He put the cup in the dish drainer beside the sink. “Still, I’m having a great time allowing those that I find to ‘try out,’ if you know what I mean.” He turned to face me. “Brenda had all the qualifications, but she’s too … cerebral. I don’t like dames that are smarter ‘n me.”

He turned and walked to the door. “Well, professor, have a nice life. Oh, and about the watch; I wouldn’t use it often; a couple times a week, maybe. Use it as a reward … or as a punishment. It will only draw her closer to you.” And with a wave, he was gone.

Exit the antagonist, forever.

I sat there for another couple minutes, thinking about him. I still honestly loathed the guy, but I consoled myself in two ways. One, he was out of my life now, and more importantly, out of Brenda’s. And secondly, I was not like him. I would never be like him. I made it a silent vow, then stood slowly, put the watch in my pocket and walked into the living room.

Brenda was on the couch, leaning against one of its arms, her feet drawn up in front of her, her arms wrapped around her knees, shivering and looking miserable. As soon as she saw me, she leapt up and threw herself into my arms.

“Is he gone?” she asked, her face buried in my chest.

“Yes.”

There was a long pause. “Did he really give you the watch?”

“Yes.”

An even longer pause. “Freddy?”

“Yes?”

“He said he was giving you ANOTHER gift. That means he’s given you one already.” She waited to see if I would respond. I didn’t. “The first gift, the one he gave you before; it was me, wasn’t it? He gave you me!”

It was my turn to pause. “Yes.”

“When he told me that story yesterday, the story about the Natural he gave away …. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was going to happen to me. I thought … I thought that if he gave me to somebody … I hoped … I wished … that it would be you.”

I just held her. Finally, I said: “Come on, let’s get going. You get dressed and make us a picnic lunch while I get my notes together.”

She didn’t move from my arms.

“Freddy?”

“Yes?”

“Are you still going to hypnotize me after we have lunch in the park?”

“Yes.”

She looked up at me with those big green eyes of hers. “Will you use the watch?” she begged. “Please?”