The Lovely Assistant
“I can’t believe I let you drag me to this,” Rachel said as she sat next to Aimee.
“Oh relax, it’ll be fun,” her friend said, sipping her margarita. “If nothing else, I can ‘forget’ you aren’t twenty-one, and let you have some drinks.”
“Guess I can’t argue with that,” Rachel allowed, swiping a sip as Aimee looked away with exaggerated care.
The pair, friends since middle school, were seated at the Marble Tavern, one of Central State’s seemingly-infinite supply of bars, for an act called the Amazing Mysterio. His fliers looked unbelievably cheesy, and promised an ‘adult’ hypnosis show. Rachel imagined that would mostly involve getting girls to take their tops off on stage.
At twenty, Rachel was not the sort to take her top off in any sort of company, excepting of course boyfriends. It wasn’t that she didn’t have anything below—she dressed tonight in a lovely tight dress to accentuate both her B-cup breasts and her killer behind—but she felt someone had to earn the right to see them, and just swinging a watch in front of her didn’t count for that.
Aimee, sitting next to her, was taller, 5′8″ to Rachel’s 5′4″, and more willowy; she was a high school track girl, not a cheerleader like Rachel had been, and still had the long, toned legs and tight behind to show for it. She wasn’t too lucky up top, with only A-cups, but she knew how to use the rest of her to make up for it. Aimee wore a short and skirt combo, the skirt being quite amazingly short.
As the crowd milled around, well-dressed college students and a few adults coming to their seats, Aimee checked her phone. A strange look passed across her face as she returned a text, then faded as she turned to Rachel.
“I’ve got to meet someone real quick,” she said. “If I’m late getting back, you might have to finish that margarita.”
“Take your time,” Rachel said, taking another sip as Aimee left.
Backstage, Aimee walked past a bouncer, who allowed her through, and down the hall to the back room where Mysterio was getting ready. When she knocked, three times and then five times, she heard someone opening the door.
It was a woman, totally naked, with much more up top than Aimee boasted. She was older, in her early 40’s, but in great shape.
“Umm...I...is this the right room?” Aimee asked, red-faced, trying not to stare at those breasts.
“I think it is; come in, Lovely Assistant.” The same blank expression from before passed over Aimee’s face and she nodded, walking in slowly, like a sleepwalker.
“Ah, Aimee,” said Adam—Mysterio’s off-stage name. He was reclining on a couch, naked from the waist down. His impressive cock was rock-hard, glistening with the remnants of the older woman’s affection.
“What’s going on?” Aimee asked, as thoughts returned to her. “Who is she, why is she naked? What am I doing here?”
“Don’t worry, my Lovely Assistant,” said Adam, standing and walking towards her. Aimee sighed, some of her fear leaving her. Adam held up a sparkling gem on the end of a long, gold chain, and Aimee’s eyes went to it at once. “We’re just here to get you ready for the show...”
When the act started, Rachel had killed the margarita, and Aimee was nowhere to be found. Her worries were soothed, however, when a waitress brought her another margarita, added to Aimee’s tab. Rachel kept mum as the girl—dressed for the night in high heels and a pair of shorts even shorter than Aimee’s skirt—deposited the drink.
I can wait a little longer, she reflected, taking another sip. It was a good margarita.
“And now...the Amazing...Mysterio!” came a voice over the loudspeaker. The crowd broke into applause, some genuine, some forced. Rachel joined in. Might as well participate, she reflected.
Mysterio came on stage, and Rachel was disappointed in his appearance; he was a tall, broad-shouldered man, built a bit heavier than she generally liked but clearly strong. He had a thick beard, and she imagined the rest of him was equally hairy, which was a strike against him too. Rachel liked her men lean and smooth; of the four men she’d slept with, three had been swimmers and one, a track runner.
Still, he had an impressive stage presence, seeming to fill all the space with a deep, booming voice that Rachel considered his best quality. He joked around, his humor sliding towards the lewd, and gave them a run-through of hypnosis.
“It’s a key into the mind,” he said, his voice taking on an almost comically serious tone. He moved his hands with his words, creating the effect that his entire self was projecting his message. “At its core, it’s all about relaxation. The focus—the watch.” At this, a screen behind him illuminated to show a slowly swinging pocket watch. “The pendant,” he continued, and the watch morphed into a gem on a chain. “The hypnotist’s eyes,” he finished, and the screen showed a pair of eyes, huge and dark—his own, staring back at the audience.
“These all serve to let the subject forget everything else in the world. To help them, in a safe place with a quiet tone, relax, and let go. That’s all a trance is: relaxation. Just a simple state of relaxation. So simple, in fact, that some people slip into it without trying, without even realizing it. Some people can just let go, drift away, and raise their hands!”
Rachel felt her hands, as though lifted by wires, leave the table and float up above her head. A moment later, with a powerful blush, she realized what she’d done; lowering them, she looked around and was relieved to find she wasn’t alone. Several people, maybe a quarter of the assembled fifty, were doing as she’d done, chuckling in nervousness.
Good thing Aimee wasn’t here to see this, Rachel reflected, wondering again where her friend was.
“So, I see we have a good crowd tonight!” Mysterio said, joining in the laughter. “If you would, I’d like to draw my first volunteers from that crowd. So! Who wants to take a stab at this!” Rachel kept her hands resolutely down this time, letting a group of five be drawn up: three women and two men.
“Now that you all knows how this works,” Mysterio said, “it may be even easier for some of you to slip into trances. But to make it a bit easier, I’m going to ask my Lovely Assistant, Aimee, to join me on stage.” Rachel sat bolt-upright. No way it was the same Aimee...
...but it was, and she was dressed...wow. How she walked in those heels, Rachel had no guess, but they turned a tall girl into a leggy goddess, and those legs wore fishnets and nothing else, all the way up her thighs, where they met a one-piece that left her hips to the tender mercy of the fishnets and, when she turned around later, left no doubts as to the shape of her ass. It was tight everywhere else, hugging her meager bust in a way that made it no larger, but infinitely more alluring. Her shoulders and upper arms were bare, and her forearms were covered in lacy gloves. She gave the audience a radiant smile, and Rachel a private wink.
“What the hell,” Rachel whispered as her friend, now topping six feet in what had to be four-inch heels, click-clacked up to Mysterio and gave him an overblown kiss on the cheek. The crowd, already making approving noises for Aimee, cheered at this show, which Mysterio happily accepted.
“Now for those very, very few of you who aren’t already watching Aimee,” he said, to general laughter, “let your eyes rest on her. Difficult, I know. But Aimee is carrying more than those legs.” She produced a green gem on a chain from somewhere—where, Rachel couldn’t guess, since that outfit left no room to hide anything...it left barely enough room to hide her body.
She stood in front of the quintet of volunteers, smiling at them. She was talking to them, though Rachel couldn’t hear them, and she had the attention of all five, especially the men. She started the gem swinging, as Mysterio moved behind them.
“I’m sorry I brought Aimee out and riled you all up right before I need you to relax,” he said with a faint smile, “but I’m sure we can bring you all back down in a few moments. Let’s see how fast we can do it. I’m going to ask you to embrace the cliche and watch the gem, as the lovely Aimee lets it swing back and forth in front of you.
“She’s going slow, so you don’t need to move your eyes quickly. Just relax, let it happen. Let its pace dictate your breathing, your thoughts. Let your chests rise and fall. Let your eyes move back and forth.” He moved behind them, speaking softly, leaning in close as the mic let his deep, resonant voice echo out across the room.
“Back and forth, in this warm, dark room, back and forth for the lovely Miss Aimee. Everything’s starting to fade now, everything except the gem, except Aimee, except my voice...” And with that, he snapped his fingers loudly, right between the people of the group.
Their heads lolled down, except for one girl, to whom Aimee went and spoke softly. A moment later, her head fell as well. Mysterio went to each one, setting up triggers in each, then woke them collectively.
Rachel had been skeptical, though admittedly less so after one and a half good margaritas (and it had been refilled again). But the show turned out to be quite entertaining, involving people becoming animals at the mention of a word, then waking midway through and burning in embarrassment. Once or twice they were made to think their clothes had come off, to general laughter, and eventually Mysterio made them all take off their tops.
One girl hadn’t worn a bra, and the audience roared in approval as her small, firm breasts were bared, but Mysterio told them all that they were fully-dressed, and when they woke, two topless men, two women in bras, and one skinny girl with nothing on above the waist, all five went back to their seats without noticing a thing.
“Now who enjoyed that?” Aimee asked the audience, and all of them, including Rachel, broke into applause. “And who’s ready for round two?” Aimee asked. Again, cheers.
“Round Two has a new player,” Mysterio said, coming up behind Aimee and putting a hand on her back. She looked at him, confused. “Aimee,” he said, “goodnight girl.” With that, Aimee’s eyes went wide, then slid shut.
“Yes, Mysterio,” she said softly. The crowd approved.
“Aimee, do you like wearing that uniform?” he asked.
“Not a lot,” she said. Her voice was utterly devoid of emotion, and sounded sleepy. “Tight.”
“I think you could take it off, if you wanted,” he said. The crowd held its breath; Rachel stared in shock.
“Thank you, Mysterio,” said the sleeping Aimee. Her hands went up, and Rachel watched, heart in her throat, as her friend stripped naked on stage.
Aimee moved slowly, eyes never opening, as she reached back and unzipped the tight costume, peeling it down from her torso. She wore nothing underneath, at all; her little breasts were soon bare as was her—everyone now saw—clean-shaven pussy. Then she rolled down the fishnets, and removed the gloves, and finally stood back up, a faint smile on her face as she stood naked on stage.
“Now that Aimee’s wearing her proper outfit,” Mysterio said, to general applause, “it’s time for a few people to join her. Any volunteers?” he asked. There were fewer this time; only one man and one woman volunteered to be the next nudes in the audience. They came up and sat down.
“You may continue, Aimee,” Mysterio said, snapping his fingers. Life came back into her face, but she didn’t seem to realize she was nude—except for, Rachel realized, the high heels. How like a man, she thought. Make her naked but leave on those damn uncomfortable shoes.
“Aimee, why not take a walk through the audience, see if you can find some others for us?”
“Sure thing, Mysterio!” she said, and walked down the stairs. Her balance was impressive, her hips swaying as her long legs carried her through the tables. On-stage, Mysterio started talking softly to the two volunteers, while the background screen once again showed the green gem swinging back and forth.
Rachel’s eyes moved from Aimee to the screen, back to Aimee, lithe as she moved through the audience. She chatted with people, smiling all the time, never seeing too recognize her own nudity even as the men stared openly at her.
“Having fun?” she asked Rachel, who started. Between three (and a half!) margaritas, she’d been having a harder time keeping track of details; she realized now that she’d been staring at the gem on the screen, and had forgotten Aimee.
“What are you doing?” Rachel whispered, looking her friend up and down...and up and down again. God I want her legs, Rachel mused.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you honey,” Aimee said. “I just enjoyed the last show so much, I wanted to give it another shot!”
“But you’re...you’re not wearing...”
“You like it?” Aimee asked, giving a slow spin. Rachel’s eyes tracked every line of her body; the muscles on her thighs as she balanced, the tight swell of her buttocks, the small, firm lines of her breasts.
“It’s sexy, isn’t it?” Aimee said softly. “This whole show is pretty sexy, Rachel.” She stepped closer; all eyes were on them now. “Why not give it a try?”
“I don’t want to end up naked,” Rachel said, eyes locked on Aimee’s.
“Haha, honey, you won’t,” Aimee said. She took Rachel’s hand. “Come on, consider it payment for the margaritas!” Reluctantly, stumbling a bit, but to wild applause, Rachel followed Aimee, trying not to look at her friend’s tiny ass as they climbed the stage, and she joined the man and woman already slumped in their chairs.
“Welcome aboard, miss...” began Mysterio.
“Rachel,” she said quietly. She was mortified that she was up here at all, at the shortness of her dress now, at the attention her ass had gotten on the way up. Next to the tall, obliviously naked Aimee, she was second-rate, but still she got jeers.
“Now Rachel, if I recall, your hand went up right at the start of this show,” Mysterio said, and Rachel nodded. “So you’re already half in a trance, if you believe that. Plus with as much as you’ve had to drink...” He trailed off, to laughter. Rachel blushed.
“...relaxing already,” she realized Mysterio was saying. Had he been talking this whole time? When did he start swinging this gem in front of her face? “...and out,” he said, and she released a long, deep breath she’d been holding without realizing it. What was happening? He wasn’t hypnotizing her, not really, right? She was just distracted and drunk and...
“...and zero, wake up Rachel!” Mysterio said. Rachel opened her eyes with a start. Immediately she looked down, hands patting herself and finding the reassuring fabric of her clothes. That got some laughs.
“Don’t worry honey, you’re not in Aimee’s attire yet,” Mysterio said. Looking around, Rachel saw her friend, barefoot now, standing on tiptoes, hands stretched above her as though tied at the wrists. A dark thrill ran through her at that thought; Aimee was still naked, her long body stretched so far that her ribs showed.
“Now Rachel, you were a bit uncomfortable about being naked on stage, weren’t you?” Mysterio asked.
“I...” Rachel began, then paused. Was she? She considered the idea; it wasn’t as repulsive as she’d thought. Aimee was, and everyone was enjoying her, even frozen on stage in a trance. Rachel looked at her again; how was she able to stand so still on her toes like that?
“Rachel?” Mysterio asked again. “You don’t mind taking a little bit off, do you honey?” he asked. She looked up at him, catching his large eyes.
“No, Mysterio,” she said with a slight smile. He made an inviting gesture, and Rachel stood...and slipped her dress off without a second thought!
It felt wonderful. She wore a delightful set underneath, a black lace bra and matching panties, both liberally constructed out of lace. The crowd approved wholeheartedly, which emboldened her to make a slow, shy turn on the stage, earning even more cheering when her big, tight ass faced the crowd. She forgot about her pale, somewhat flabby stomach, and her soft thighs, and reveled in the attention on her ass and her C-cup chest.
“Well well Rachel, you are having a lovely time, aren’t you?” Mysterio said with a laugh.
“I sure am!” she giggled, still showing off. She turned this way and that, emboldened by the cheers, the applause.
“Would you like some company?” he asked. She nodded, and watched as the other woman who’d volunteered approached her.
“Oh, she’s pretty,” Rachel cooed, sliding her eyes up and down the woman’s body. She, like Rachel, was in her underwear, and looked happy about it.
“I sure am, sweetie,” the woman cooed. Rachel let her come close, closer than she’d normally have liked, but now she was anticipating the older woman’s closeness...and when their arms went around each other, all Rachel could think was kiss.
The crowd exploded as the two women came together in a deep, tongue-heavy French kiss, hands sliding across each other, cupping asses, moaning softly. Nothing in Rachel’s mind told her this was wrong.
Dimly, she was aware of the hypnotized man moving, coming up to the hypnotically-bound Aimee. His hands, too, went to her body, but they slid around, between her legs, and soon she was moaning, writhing in her imagined ropes.
Rachel’s bra was gone. Where had it gone? She wasn’t sure, but the other woman was totally naked, and Rachel wanted to be, too. Soon she was. They were kissing, but now the woman’s lips were kissing Rachel’s nipple, and she felt fingertips between her legs.
“Ohhh yes touch me there,” she begged, spreading her legs, bending over so her ass was shown to the cheering crowd. The woman obeyed, and when Rachel screamed, “Kiss me there!” she obeyed, too.
Rachel came, over and over, screaming incoherent noises as the woman’s tongue worked its magic. Nearby, Aimee was almost catatonic in pleasure, her eyes rolling as the man rubbed his bulging underwear against her ass. There were cheers and laughter and pleasure, so much pleasure, too much pleasure, and then Rachel heard Mysterio’s voice.
“Sleep.” And she did.
“Rachel? Rachel honey, wake up!” Aimee said with a laugh. Groggily, Rachel opened her eyes, looking at the blurred face of her friend. “God how many did you have?” she asked.
“Whuu?” Rachel asked. She focused, instead of on Aimee, on the dozen empty margarita glasses on the table. Heat rose to her face.
“Ohhh I’ve been bad,” she whispered.
“No honey, you’ve been great,” Aimee said, taking her arm. “Come on, stand up. Mysterio wants to see us.”
“What?” she asked. Looking around, Rachel realized the place was mostly-empty. The only people left were drunk as she was, but their guides were looking at her, smiling, winking. She felt like she was missing something.
“What happened?” she asked, letting Aimee guide her. “And why does the hypno man want to see us?”
“To congratulate us on a great show,” Aimee said. Rachel stopped dead.
“What do you mean, a great show?” she asked. “I didn’t...no, Aimee, I didn’t do anything!” In response, Aimee showed Rachel her phone.
On the screen were Rachel and another, older woman, standing on stage. Both were totally naked. Both were kissing, lost in the liplock. Both had hands all over the other.
Ice-cold horror dropped into Rachel’s stomach as she realized yes, it was her, yes, this was real...and she’d forgotten it. She’d forgotten everything!
“That fucker,” she whispered, stepping away from Aimee. “You bitch!” She added. “I can’t believe you got me into this!”
“Rachel, it’s okay!” Aimee said, hurrying after Rachel who, without thinking about it, was headed straight for Mysterio’s dressing room. “It’s fine, just let him explain—”
“Explain how he made me a lesbian stripper?” she snapped. “No, there’s nothing he can say that’ll fix this!” She didn’t knock. She slammed the door open, and there he was, dressed casually now, looking at her with a smile on his face.
“Welcome back, girls,” he said. Aimee started to apologize, but Rachel cut her off.
“No, you don’t say sorry to him!” she snapped. She faced him down. “You...you waited until I was drunk and you fucking used me!” she screamed.
“You seemed to like it,” he said.
“You made me like it! You used me, you turned me around, you made me strip!”
“Rachel, I think we should all calm down. Don’t you, my Lovely Assistant?” he asked, looking at Aimee. Rachel heard her gasp, then sigh.
“Yes, Mysterio,” Aimee said in a low, soft tone. Rachel turned on her. Aimee’s eyes were glassy, her face slack. Her breathing was deep and slow.
“Oh my god you’re still doing this to her?” Rachel asked, whirling on the hypnotist. “Does she even realize how you made her dress? Do you let her forget that?”
“Oh no, she remembers it...most of the time. I just let the details slip her mind. Much like you, dear Rachel,” he said. “For example, you haven’t yet noticed that you’re naked.”
Rachel looked down and went blood-red. Her body was bare, totally bare, except for the heels on her feet. How like a man, she remembered, but now she thought it with frustration and rage.
“You bastard!” she screamed, covering her chest with one hand, her pussy—still wet from the onstage activities—with the other. “You can’t do this to people!”
“Poor Rachel, I truly can. And I have. And I will, with you and others.” He stood, drawing the green gem from his pocket. Rachel’s eyes went to it at once.
“No,” she snapped, “you’re not going to do this to me again!”
“Then look away,” he suggested. And she tried. She truly tried. She tried until she was sweating, until she was shaking, until she realized that’s what he wanted.
“You’re going to be mine again,” he said softly, and she felt her head nodding. “Turn around,” he said, “and kiss your friend.” Rachel obeyed, and soon her lips were against Aimee’s seeking, hungry, her tongue in the other girl’s mouth. While Aimee stood, robot-like, accepting her touch, Rachel moved closer, pressing her curvy body against Aimee’s slender one, hands roaming.
She felt Mysterio’s hands on her ass, her glorious ass, roughly groping, digging into her flesh, and she wiggled back against him, giving a soft moan as her fingertips found Aimee’s sex. She, too, was wet from the show, and though she gave only a slight moan, Rachel slid her fingers along, doing to Aimee what she loved doing to herself.
“Now, take a seat, Rachel,” the voice behind her said, and seamlessly she obeyed, forgetting her passions, walking over and sitting nude in an uncomfortable chair. Mysterio walked over, a bulge clearly apparent in his pants.
“Look at me, Rachel,” he said. “Into my eyes. It’s time for you to listen carefully...”
Rachel woke in bed, head throbbing. God created margaritas to tempt the weak, she reflected, sitting up. Her sheets fell off, and she realized that she’d been sleeping nude—rare for her, but nothing out of place. Slowly she stood, and went about showering, making coffee, trying to piece together the night before.
It came to her in fits and starts, and what she remembered, made her sit up straight and stare at the opposite wall in horror. Oh god I went onstage... she thought. I saw Aimee naked...I got naked...fuck me I kissed that lady. She buried her head in her face in shame.
Hypnosis can’t make someone do something they don’t want to; she knew that. So what she’d done was on her shoulders. She imagined there were quite a few people in that audience who she’d have to face again sometime, and she knew, knew, the expressions they’d show when they remembered her panty-clad ass...my bare ass!
...my sexy ass, she thought. My hot, big, tight ass...swinging on stage, showing off...letting them watch...making them...hard... She leaned back in her chair, legs drifting apart. Though she’d finished her shower an hour ago, she was still naked. She hadn’t noticed until now.
Still bare-assed, she thought with a giggle, as her hand slipped between her legs. Still sexy...naked...showing off, she reflected, fingers beginning to work on herself. There was no single idea to which she masturbated that morning; her thoughts were a jumble of what she had done last night, what she had seen, and what she had probably forgotten. The older woman featured prominently; so, too, did Aimee. And Mysterio was there, his voice deep and commanding, telling her to show off, to strip, to shake, to cum...to cum...to cummmm!
“Ohhhhh,” Rachel moaned, her voice high, tight. She crested and crested again, two orgasms for the price of one, and then a third, leaving her shaking in her chair, sweating, the room smelling of sex. She opened her eyes.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Aimee came over that afternoon, wearing shorts even shorter than she usually favored. Rachel dressed quickly and let her in, eyeing her legs as she entered, with a look that was 90% judgment, but 10% something else.
“If you added nine inches to those shorts you’d have Daisy Dukes,” Rachel said as she closed the door behind her friend.
“Pretty harsh words from someone who got eaten out on stage last night,” Aimee shot back, sending a rush of hot blood into Rachel’s face.
“I can’t believe,” she said softly. Aimee didn’t laugh at her.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” she said. “I mean...I know you’re going to, but still. It’s over. You enjoyed it, too.”
“You don’t know that,” Rachel said.
“Yes I do honey. I was naked and thought I was tied up and getting reamed out and even I could tell Karen made you cum. Your partner,” she added as an explanation.
“Ugh my first lesbian experience and I didn’t even know her name,” Rachel mused. Still she wasn’t angry, or even truly humiliated; she seemed to be feeling everything about last night through a warm filter, and she wondered if she was still drunk...or hypnotized. Idly, she let her eyes wander Aimee’s legs when the other was looking away. They were an easy place to rest the gaze.
“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t know the name of the boy who rubbed his cock against my while I shook my tiny tits on stage,” she said with a laugh.
“So do you keep working with him, or what?” Rachel asked. “I saw you in that assistant getup, do you just trawl for hotties and bring them to him?”
“Haha, no, and way to be humble there, hottie,” Aimee teased, pouring herself some coffee. “No, I just...it’s hard to explain. I went to a show and I loved it, so I went to another one. And another one. And after the third one, he recognized me and we talked after the performance.”
“Talked,” Rachel said. “I can imagine the conversation. I’m sure it was long on action verbs.”
“Not as much as you’d think,” Aimee said, then added, “though not devoid. Admittedly I was naked throughout the conversation, which I didn’t realize until the end...but it was when he pointed it out that I realized how...well how hot the whole thing made me!” Aimee’s eyes seemed unfocused. “He offered the assistant job and I took it. Pay is great and...well the fringe benefits are good too.”
“Fringe fucking,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes, and allowing them to linger on Aimee’s calves during the roll.
“Obviously,” Aimee said with a grinning roll of her eyes. “But more than that. I’m...” she paused. “You’re going to think I’m on drugs, but I’m more focused, I’m working out more, eating better, drinking less. Well,” she added, “very little less.”
“So he gets a leggy blonde on call and you get hypno-adderral?” Rachel asked. “I guess that’s an exchange?”
“Come on, deny to me that you enjoyed it,” Aimee said. “In fact, try to tell me you haven’t gotten off at least once already, thinking about last night.” Rachel blushed deeply. “Knew it!” Aimee said with a huge grin. It faded slowly as she contemplated her coffee, and was gone when she added, “try to tell me you haven’t been watching my legs this whole time.”
“I just—” Rachel began, heat rising to her face again as she realized Aimee was looking right at her, and she was still looking at those creamy, muscled thighs. She dragged her eyes to Aimee’s face.
“It lingers, doesn’t it?” Aimee asked. “That erotic compulsion? After you get done with one woman you start thinking about others.”
“Even friends,” Rachel said quietly. “I...I was naked until you showed up.” She was already blushing, but looked away at the admission. Why did I say that? She wondered.
“Why change for me?” Aimee asked. She looked at Rachel expectantly.
“Right now? Just strip?” she asked.
“If it makes you feel better, I could pretend to hypnotize you,” Aimee teased gently. Rachel looked at her friend for a long moment, and Aimee stood. “I wouldn’t use a gem,” she explained. “I’d use my legs.” Aimee walked around the table, standing in the middle of the room. Rachel was, in fact, staring at those legs, breathing a bit more rapidly now.
“You...you want to hypnotize me?” Rachel breathed, eyes moving up and down, their own rhythm as hypnotic as Mysterio’s gem.
“I want to fuck you, honey,” Aimee whispered. She slipped her top off; there was nothing underneath. “Hypnosis might make it easier for you to admit you want it too.” Rachel sighed, relaxing in her chair as she watched Aimee walk aimlessly around in bare feet, on her toes.
“Won’t take much,” she whispered, one hand reaching up to cup a breast. Aimee smiled and walked over; in her shorts, she was practically naked. In fact, in a way, it was even more erotic than if she had been naked.
“Mmm then given in to me, my Lovely Assistant,” Aimee whispered, and Rachel felt a rush of delicious release, of her mind letting go as Aimee straddled her and sat on her lap. The kiss began lightly and intensified fast, and before Rachel was truly aware of what was happening, her hands were splayed on Aimee’s small breasts, as Aimee herself slipped a hand through the neck of Rachel’s shirt, undoing her bra from above.
“Mmm do I have to call you Mistress?” Rachel breathed when the kiss broke.
“Maybe later honey,” Aimee said, helping Rachel out of her shirt. She looked down with a smile and gently pinched one of Rachel’s nipples, earning a little squeal-moan.
“Don’t get cruel with me, Aimee,” Rachel said, easing her friend off her lap and standing. Presently they removed pants, and panties, and looked at each other, naked, horny.
“I never thought we’d do something like this,” Rachel whispered as Aimee took her her hand and led her into the bedroom.
“Me neither,” Aimee admitted, pushing Rachel ahead of her so she could watch her ass. Helpfully, Rachel walked slower, swaying her ass as she did. “Good thing we didn’t meet Mysterio when we were teenagers.”
“God can you imagine?” Rachel giggled, before stopping right in front of Aimee, who ran into her ass. “Go ahead and touch it honey, we both know you’re going to.” Without speaking, Aimee ran her hands lovingly over Rachel’s ass, fingertips electing moans from her curvier friend.
They fell into bed, Rachel face-down as Aimee payed careful attention to her ass; after a moment, Rachel rolled over, and found Aimee’s pussy over her face. She hesitated.
“Drink up, my Lovely Assistant,” Aimee whispered, and resistance melted; suddenly Aimee’s pussy was heaven, nectar and ambrosia in one, and Rachel buried herself in it, hoping she’d never leave. Hands roamed free as her tongue worked, and Rachel tasted Aimee’s orgasms countless times before her own questing fingers brought her off.
Later, they lay in bed, Aimee’s head resting on Rachel’s bare chest, covers thrown off, panting and sweating. Fingers would occasionally wander, but neither was up for another round, not just yet.
“So,” Aimee said after a while’s silence.
“So,” Rachel said back. “Um...” Thoughts were whirling in her head, and not just sexy ones. After a moment, she had to blurt out, “I don’t want to date you!” There was silence. “I’m sorry, it..I just...I don’t know if...” Then she realized Aimee was laughing.
“Oh honey, I’ll dive between your legs any day, but I don’t want to date you either. I’m still swinging for Team Dick, no matter how much I enjoyed switch-hitting.” She looked up, meeting Rachel’s eyes.
“You’re such a dork. ‘I don’t want to date you!’” Aimee quoted, laughing again. Rachel reached down and pinched one of her nipples, earning a squeal.
“Be nice,” she said sternly. Aimee giggled again.
“Maybe you’re the one who steers next time,” she said.
“Let’s give it some time,” Rachel said. “I don’t think my psyche could handle the fact that every orgasm I’ve had for a week was caused by a woman.”
It was later that week, as she walked to class, that Rachel spied a flier for Mysterio’s act. She paused as she walked by it, looking at the paper. I can’t say he’s dishonest, she mused; it clearly stated that drinks would be served, cameras were not allowed, and the evening was 18+. Everything she’d done on that stage was consensual...
...which means it would be if I went back, too, she mused. For a moment she just stood there, peering at the flier. Then she shook herself back to her senses and went to class.
There was a show that weekend. Rachel, taking notes on her laptop, had Mysterio’s website open without realizing it, and had bought tickets before she recognized where she was. I guess I’m going, she mused.
Looking over his site, she was impressed with the length and distance of his tours. He’d been everywhere, mostly college campuses, but all over the country. And from the looks of it, he’d been doing this for a decade. From what she remembered, he hadn’t looked much over thirty; how young had he been when he started?
That Friday night, she stood in front of her mirror and looked herself up and down. She’d picked a slightly looser dress this time, but wore higher heels, remembering that, sooner or later, all Mysterio’s girls ended up in nothing but heels. He likes heels, she knew, and paused to consider the fact that she’d just grouped herself in with “Mysterio’s Girls.”
She wore fishnets below the dress; identical, by dint of careful shopping, to the ones Aimee had worn for the first show. Her legs were a shorter, paler, softer imitation of Aimee’s, but she had to admit, fishnets looked good on any legs. Below the dress, she wore another set of sexy things, in this case a pale green thong, and a matching half-cup bra.
“Going out?” her roommate, Claire, asked as she crossed the living room. Claire had been gone on a field research trip earlier that week, sparing her the sight of Aimee and Rachel falling into bed together. Too bad, Rachel thought; Claire looked like the mom in a 1950’s porno. Blonde, conservatively dressed, immaculate hair and makeup, demure, and stacked to the rafters.
“Yeah, a stage show,” Rachel said. An idea struck her. “Want to come?”
“Ah, no, sorry,” Claire said, a flicker of the eyes telling Rachel why not. If you’re dressed like that I don’t want to be a part of it, Claire’s eyes said.
“Okay, you’re missing out,” Rachel said with a smile, leaving her roommate and heading across town.
She recognized Aimee’s car at the venue, and for a moment could think of nothing more than her friend in her heels and fishnets...and later, blank-faced, writhing in ropes only she could see. I want to see that again, Rachel thought, absently moving a hand between her legs. I want him to tie her up. I want him to tie me up.
She shivered, and removed her hand, getting out of the car and walking in. It was like her first show again; the crowd was a bit smaller, but drinks were all around, the waitresses heavy on the smiling and skimping on the attire. A thought hit Rachel: has he hypnotized them? Is the whole staff his toy? She let the idea fade; paranoia was not an attractive trait.
The table she sat at had a few other people; a couple about her age, another quite older, long-since married, and a single man, probably in his early 30’s, who smiled and pulled out a chair as she approached. She gave him a smile in return, ignoring his eyes on her—after all, both the mid-twenties boyfriend and the at-least-forty man had done the same thing.
Their conversation was light and pleasant, and when Rachel mentioned she’d been here before, she happily hinted—but only hinted—at what was to come. Then the stage was occupied.
Aimee was with him, dressed as Rachel had hoped. She looked happy, introducing Mysterio, who came out to polite applause and a startling warmth between Rachel’s legs. I’m not that into him, she tried to tell herself.
He gave them the introductory talk, and Rachel again felt herself relaxing as he talked about hypnosis. This time she kept enough presence of mind to notice some others at her table doing the same thing: Kayla, the female half of the young couple, and Frank, the married man, especially.
When Mysterio suddenly demanded hands up, Rachel’s rose without thought, as did Kayla’s and Frank’s. Their partners laughed good-naturedly at them when they realized what had happened, and when Aimee came click-clacking through the audience, their partners pushed them to go. Rachel privately wondered how confident Frank’s wife was in their relationship, for her to be okay with her husband going off on the arm of a fishnetted twenty-one year old.
A pang of jealousy hit Rachel, followed by a slight smile. I’m twenty, she thought. Plenty of time to find a soulmate later; right now I’m here for something else.
Aimee locked eyes with Rachel, but didn’t quite seem to recognize her, making Rachel wonder if Aimee spent the whole show in a kind of trance. She was a bit hurt that the girl whose thighs she’d gone swimming between just a week before didn’t even wink at her, but the idea that even now, Aimee was under Mysterio’s control, excited her in a new way. It made her wonder if she, too, was still on his leash.
Mysterio spoke quietly to Frank and Kayla, as well as another two men and one woman who made up his first five volunteers. None lasted long, their heads soon resting on their chests, and Mysterio happily began the next stage of the show.
Frank turned out to look surprisingly good with his shirt off, and Rachel could only imagine what he’d looked like in college, when he likely had abs to go with pecs that were still impressive. She shot his wife a look, who grinned knowingly. Further disrobing showed his underwear to be inadequate in concealing another interesting part of him.
The female half of the crowd certainly cheered Frank’s disrobing; even when the other four, none of whom were lacking in any department, were in their underwear, Frank still drew most ladies’ eyes...and some of the men. Rachel watched in fascination as Kayla was set up in a chair in front of Frank, legs spread, and made to believe he was fucking her.
It was amazing. Both moved as though they were joined, even though six feet of air separated his massively erect member from her sex that was already soaking through her panties. Kayla’s boyfriend and Frank’s wife sat up a little straighter, doubtless feeling a bit inadequate in the department of making their partners sound like that.
When they were done, Mysterio paired up another male and female volunteer and treated the audience to the girl kneeling away from the man, who moaned and bucked as though her lips were around his cock. Their pleasures ended with collapse back into trance, and the last man on stage was left with Aimee, who froze him with a snap of her fingers, took off one piece of clothing, then woke him to let the audience enjoy his confusion, before freezing him again and again. The last time he woke to find Kayla, now naked, bent over in front of him.
Told he could do anything, he gave her a dozen teasing spankings, earning a huge cheer. From her seat, Rachel watched happily as the well-built Kayla’s butt jiggled with each blow, imagining it being Aimee...or her...on stage.
Frank and Kayla returned to their seats, Frank in his erection-straining underwear, Kayla totally naked. Both were oblivious, and no one at the table hurried to remind them, even as Rachel’s eyes slid along the supple curve of Kayla’s breast, and back down to the bulge in Frank’s lap. Could I even survive that? She wondered. She wanted to find out.
Aimee was losing her clothes now, face empty, eyes glazed over as she exposed herself to the cheering crowd. Mysterio happily made her join the waitresses, bringing drinks in her heels and nothing else. Rachel ordered a margarita, and as Mysterio moved on with the show, greeted the half-awake Aimee as she walked over.
“I didn’t know you worked here,” Rachel said, hiding her smile. Aimee, who could tell that Frank and Kayla were nude, glanced at them, then back at her.
“Just some weekends,” she said, handing Rachel a huge margarita. Rachel’s eyes moved along her body, earning a smile from Aimee.
“You like the costume?” she teased.
“It’s my favorite thing to see you in,” Rachel answered, hiding a bigger smile.
“Maybe I’ll get you on,” Aimee said, before continuing on her rounds. With the naked Aimee wandering the audience, Mysterio had to drag the audience’s attention back to the stage, where he gathered another quintet of volunteers. Rachel wasn’t chosen for this one either, so with a feeling of disappointment, she watched, enjoying the newest act: slow stripteases, five in a row, made by confused, blushing people who didn’t know how to stop.
For the first time, she was awake to see the end of the show, when the people in the audience like Frank and Kayla were allowed to realize they were naked. Rachel loved the look that came across Kayla’s face as she tried to cover up; Frank, for his part, looked vaguely pleased with himself, and Rachel admired his confidence. Not many men his age would be happy to be seen nearly-naked.
That must be how my show ended, she reflected, though in truth she couldn’t remember. As people stood to leave, and gather their clothes, she joked with Frank’s wife Dinah about her husband’s performance...and about what Rachel had seen of his body implied of his other performances.
“Yes,” Dinah said. “Yes and more. Honey, I know how important a young, toned body is to attraction, but let me tell you, when you spend ten years with the same man in bed, well-equipped or not, he learns what you need. And my God but Frank is a good learner.” She blushed a bit, having described her sex life to a girl young enough to plausibly be her daughter, but Rachel was impressed just the same.
She went looking for Aimee after the show, ostensibly to find her friend, but just as much to find her friend naked. The audience had mostly cleared out, except for Kayla, who was trying to dress, and her boyfriend, who was trying to help but in all honestly, getting in the way.
A bouncer let her backstage with a nod; Rachel wondered at that, but decided he, like most bouncers, would let an attractive woman go wherever she wanted. It took her a while, wandering in the club’s service areas, to find the door labeled: ADAM CANE, “MYSTERIO”, but when she did, she knocked at once.
Nothing answered for a moment; then she was aware of movement, and finally a man’s voice saying, “just a second!”
“Take your time,” she called back, letting him know it was a woman waiting for him. A moment later the door answered. It was Mysterio, changed into shorts and a T-shirt. He was handsome enough, Rachel knew, bigger than most men she enjoyed, and there was another bigness in his shorts that said he wasn’t alone in there.
“Adam, is it?” she asked. “Not quite as impressive as ‘The Great Mysterio.’”
“You ah...are a fan?” he asked, looking her up and down. A bolt of disappointment hit her.
“I was in your last show,” she said. “I’m Aimee’s friend, Rachel?” He must do this to a dozen girls a week, she knew. I’m not that special to him. But at her words, his broad face broke into a smile.
“Ah, yes, Rachel, I remember you! We had quite a good time together, didn’t we?”
“I think we did,” Rachel said. “You’d remember better than me.” She glanced down. “You’re clearly enjoying yourself, and I don’t see Aimee, so can I assume she’s still in there? And that she hasn’t found her uniform yet?” To her surprise, Mysterio looked a bit embarrassed.
“You must think me a predator,” he said, “hypnotizing all these girls and dragging them into my lair?”
“Hmm,” Rachel teased, “if you are, I’d be helpless, wouldn’t I? You’ve already hypnotized me a few times...I’m sure I have no chance.” Mysterio looked at her for a moment, then let a slow smile spread across his lips.
“Aimee?” he called over his shoulder. “Would you come here for a moment?” Rachel’s heart raced as her friend—still naked—walked up to them. Her face had the unmistakable glaze of a trance, and Rachel wondered if Mysterio liked fucking girls while they were mindless. Would Aimee even remember it?
“Aimee, would you like your friend to join us?” he asked, slipping an arm around her waist. Rachel didn’t even pretend not to check her out.
“Yes, Mysterio,” Aimee said softly. “I would love to have her help in pleasuring you.”
“Well Rachel, she seems accepting,” Mysterio said, turning to fix Rachel with his gaze. “And since you’re clearly willing...why not come in?” He stepped back, drawing the hypnotized Aimee with him. Rachel followed him in, closing the door behind her.
Her heart was racing. Just this week she’d been naked on stage, had lesbian sex on stage, then come home and had lesbian sex with her best friend. Now she was about to have a threesome with that best friend, and a man that had them both on leashes. What am I now? She wondered, but the answer was clearly some breed of slut.
Mysterio stepped back and began taking off his clothes. Rachel, realizing this, slipped out of her dress, took off her bra and panties, and reached down to remove her fishnets when Mysterio’s hand caught her wrist.
“No,” he said, naked now, throbbingly erect as he looked at her legs. “Leave those on.”
“You really go for the magician’s assistant look, don’t you?” she teased.
“I’d be in the wrong profession if I didn’t,” he admitted, using her wrist to draw Rachel closer. She let him kiss her, surprised it didn’t melt her like Aimee did, but more than happy with the way his hands, big and surprisingly strong, moved over her, paying special attention, as all men did, to her ass.
“Mmm you like it back there?” she purred into his ear.
“Very much,” he answered, giving it a hard pinch that earned a squeal from her. “I imagine you’ve had everything imaginable done to this ass.” He cupped in in two big hands, all but lifting her off the ground.
“And what can you imagine?” she asked, before pulling him back into a kiss, one hand sliding down, down, to wrap around his erection. She imagined Frank was bigger, but Frank was inhuman; Mysterio had at least nine inches to work with, and it was admirably thick.
“Let’s find out,” he said, and now he did lift her by the ass, pulling her against him, turning and walking her to a bed in the back of the room, where he threw her down and she bounced on the bed with an excited noise.
Mysterio stood over her, and she felt the thrill she often did at this point, when she lay on the bed looking up at a man, her man, looking down at her. Bigger than her, stronger, taller, and about to descend on her in ways she couldn’t resist. A delicious submissive thrill always ran through her before a man took her, the knowledge that, though she didn’t want to say no, he could claim her even if she did.
She rolled over for him, wiggled that ass on the bed. He crawled over her, pinching it, then gave it one hard spank. Rachel gasped in surprise; that had hurt, and while she’d been spanked many times before, it wasn’t quite her favorite thing.
“You like that?” Mysterio asked, in the breathless voice of horny men who wanted confirmation more than honesty. Rachel said nothing, but gave a moan, hoping he would move on. But Mysterio didn’t; instead, he beckoned Aimee over to the bed.
“Do you like it when he spanks you?” she asked, her face right up next to Rachel’s, her voice soft.
“N-not really,” Rachel said, her friend’s empty eyes drawing honesty from her. Some fear slivered through Rachel; would he push the issue? Force her to accept what she didn’t want?
Instead, when his hands found her ass again, they was slow, gentle, caressing the skin, so light she imagined feathers back there. She smiled.
“That’s it,” she whispered. He grew bolder, his hands on her back, her thighs, gently spreading her legs apart. She pushed against him, halfheartedly trying to keep her legs together, but he overpowered her, sending a delicious shiver through her.
“Aimee,” he whispered. Soon Rachel felt her friend between her legs, Aimee’s hypnotized tongue electing a gasp as it touched her.
“W-will she remember this?” Rachel panted as she felt Aimee drinking from her slit.
“Do you want her to?” Mysterio asked, stroking Rachel’s ass as Aimee worked at her.
“Mmmm no,” Rachel giggled.
“No it is,” Mysterio said, gently moving Aimee away. Rachel made a disappointed noise at the cessation of sensation...and then she felt his cockhead.
“Yes,” she whispered, “yes, now, right now.” Mysterio complied, and she felt the glorious pressure as he entered her, nine thick inches of throbbing masculine power, pushing her open wide as he plunged deep into her, pushing the edge of pleasure and inching into pain.
“Ohhh please!” she screamed, her back arcing. He gripped her hips and lifted her a bit, pulling her ass into the air, allowing him to push deeper, harder, into her.
“Pleasure,” he whispered, and explosions went off inside Rachel; suddenly she wasn’t having sex, she was being fucked, harder than ever, harder than she could take. She ceased pushing back against him, eyes wide, and just tried to survive.
“Pleasure,” he said again, and every nerve in her body caught fire as he plunged into her, over and over, a godly machine that made her cum and keep going. Over and over; her eyes rolled back into her head, she was making gutteral noises without speaking, she was drooling over the pillow as he took her.
“PLEASURE!” he shouted as he began to cum; she felt his hot explosion inside of her and screamed her throat raw, her universe collapsing into a storm of unstoppable orgasms, nine, ten, eleven and counting, tensing and relaxing every muscle in her body, until at last her eyes rolled the rest of the way back and, blind with sensation, Rachel collapsed on the bed and slept.
Mysterio stayed on the bed, cock softening in Rachel, for a long moment. He looked at her, passed out on the bed, ass in the air, and at Aimee, standing beside the bed, staring into space, utterly oblivious to her friend’s empty mind and full womb. Briefly, Mysterio considered letting her get pregnant. He’d done it a time or two, usually to older women who were trying for kids already. There were at least five families out there, obliviously raising children that were only half theirs. But he dismissed the notion. Pregnancy at this point would derail Rachel’s life, and he was only slightly interested in that.
“Aimee, dear,” he said, “clean us up.”
“Yes, Mysterio,” Aimee intoned, walking over and dropping to her knees. She went to work on his cock, somewhat mechanically, concerned with cleaning his cum and Rachel’s juices from him, first and foremost. Still, having a hypnotized, naked slave on her knees couldn’t fail to get him hard, and his erection was coming back when she moved to Rachel.
Neither girl realized what was happening; neither girl responded. And in its own way, that turned Mysterio—Adam—on just as much as if they’d been writhing in sapphic bliss. He loved the control, the emptiness, just as intensely as he loved the sex itself.
He’d been doing this since he was nineteen, though touring only since twenty-one. In that time, he’d had literally hundreds of girl like Rachel and Aimee, so many that only the best stayed in his memory...though he had a full dossier, well-illustrated, on file to recall the rest of them. He’d had college students and mothers, women both single and married, a small handful of early-fifties grandmothers, and, on a few occasions, jailbait that had slipped into his shows.
He was far from tired of it. Sooner or later, he supposed, he’d want to settle down, but for now, he was living the fantasy of almost any male who ever lived.
Rachel woke with Aimee in bed next to her. It took her a moment to remember where she was, then what she had done. A brief, horrifying moment of shame rose over her before the pleasures of the night before rose to meet it.
If that’s what being his toy feels like, she thought, I won’t walk away from it. I can’t.
She and Aimee were naked, of course, though she still wore her fishnets. She smiled as she ran a hand along her legs. He likes heels and fishnets, she reflected. I need to get more of both. Then, a moment later: I’m already thinking about what he wants...is this me? Did he make me like this?
Aimee stirred and mumbled something, which Rachel ignored and slipped out of bed. They were in Mysterio’s dressing room, but he was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if she was just supposed to leave. Was Aimee to come with her? Was he coming back?
Walking slowly around the room, Rachel saw the tools of his trade: the various watches and gems, lying in a box, to be swung in front of subjects, the flash drives, presumably stocked with hypnotic videos like those she’d first started slipping under for, and in the back of the room, chests of costumes, a few for him, but most, the vast majority, for lovely assistants of several body types.
Rachel picked one up and looked at it slowly, wondering how many women had worn it...and how many had realized what they were doing. Slowly, another thought dawned on her...Is he going to let me wear one? Is he going to make me wear one? She was scared at the thought...and getting wet.
“Snooping around, are we?” his voice came from the door. Rachel gave a surprised squeal and turned quickly, foolishly covering her nudity before she remembered who he was...and what they’d done. He was dressed casually, and she found herself much more attracted to him than before...this time, she was sure it was hypnosis at work.
“Can you blame a girl for getting curious?” she asked, trying to play innocent. He didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m sure I have one of these in your size,” he said casually, walking towards her. She hoped it didn’t show in her face how much she’d been thinking about that, but clearly it did. He stopped inches in front of her, looking down into her eyes. “I’m always on the lookout for a new assistant.”
“Do I have a choice?” she asked softly. He gave her a little laugh and reached up, taking her chin.
“My dear little girl, you haven’t had a choice since the first time you came to me,” he said, looking into her eyes. Suddenly Rachel’s knees felt weak. “The life you’re living now is a crafted one. I’ve changed so much in your mind that you’re nothing like the girl who first came to me.”
“W-what?” she asked.
“The bisexuality, the happiness with my control, the exhibitionist streak...they’re not you, Rachel, they’re me. My fantasies implanted into your mind. And Aimee’s. And so, so many other girls.”
“That...no,” she whispered. She felt like she was swaying, as she stared into his eyes.
“Oh yes,” he clarified, “but don’t worry. Soon this conversation won’t even be a memory.”
“Don’t make me forget,” she begged softly.
“I won’t,” he said. Relief had just entered her mind when she felt Aimee’s arms encircle her from behind, Aimee’s body press against her, and Aimee’s lips whisper “forget” into her ear.
And Rachel forgot.