The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The following is a story of erotic mind control. The usual disclaimers apply.

This is a sequel to the story “Loving Linda’s Legs.” It occurs prior to the events in “Linda Steps Out.”

Synopsis: Linda Jacobs cheats on her husband with a man she meets at the company Christmas party.

Magic Bracelets

Linda was bored.

The party was dull, one of those office affairs people went to out of a sense of obligation, and got out of attending if they possibly could. Her husband Michael wasn’t here, for instance: he was working late. He did that a lot.

Linda didn’t mind that. The sexy former clerical assistant had, in fact, encouraged him to do it. And she knew just how to encourage him, too.

Remembering, she smiled wickedly. Michael Jacobs had been her boss back when she’d been just another clerk with little to look forward to in the way of advancement. Then, one day, he’d called her on the carpet for dressing too provocatively in the office. She’d gone into his office expecting to be raked over the coals.

But Michael, it had turned out, had a secret weakness. Sitting in his office, she’d crossed her legs and begun idly swinging the top one back and forth. Almost immediately her boss had fixated on the motion, forgetting all about criticizing her as his eyes followed her leg’s path back and forth, back and forth. Back . . . and . . . forth. . . . Before long, he had been quite literally in a trance.

When she’d realized what was happening, she had been unable to resist finding out how far she could take it. That had turned out to be far indeed; by the end of that first session, she’d brought her boss literally to his knees, brought him to orgasm on command and successfully planted the first of many post-erotic suggestions.

After that, she’d arranged for more “conferences” with Mr. Jacobs. As he fell deeper and deeper under her influence, she’d programmed him first to give her a raise, then to put her up for promotion. Finally she’d moved in for the kill, programming him to begin dating her and, once she was sure he was totally and inescapably in her power, to marry her. The helpless Michael had had no idea what was happening; at each step, he thought he was the one taking the initiative. The truth was buried deep in his subconscious behind a screen of legs, swinging, back and forth.

She’d learned a lot since those early days. Research at the library and on the Web had told her more about fetishes like her husband’s, and had introduced her to a variety of trance-induction techniques. Almost anything would do as a focus object, it seemed; Michael’s personal compulsion had simply made it easy for her legs to serve that purpose for him. Now all she had to do to get Michael to obey was swing her leg gently and remind him of the trigger phrase she’d given him: “Legs, ankles, high heels.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t have the same sort of control over Michael’s superiors. Therefore, when he couldn’t attend company social functions, she had to go in his place. The fact that other office wives found themselves in the same predicament didn’t make her any happier; her relationship with Michael had gotten her used to getting her own way rather than doing what other people wanted.

At least the food was good. So was the booze. Linda had had considerably more to drink than to eat, and was feeling buzzed and horny. A particularly good-looking guy standing by one of the refreshment tables with a paper cup in one hand caught her eye, and she sidled over to him.

“Hello,” she purred. “What’s your name, sugar?”

“Brett,” came the answer. “Brett Dobson.” Linda was gratified to notice how her target’s eyes darted first to her face, then to the generous cleavage exposed by her tight blouse, then—with obvious effort—straggled back to her face again.

Linda had always chosen to interpret her marriage vows creatively. The way she saw things, as long as Michael didn’t know she was fooling around, there was no problem. And if he found out, there was still no problem. He was totally helpless against her legs, his original fetish amplified into an absolutely overwhelming compulsive force by months of careful reinforcement. By now, all she had to do to make Michael woozy and pliable was cross her legs and gently flex her spike-heeled shoe. So she could do anything she wanted.

And what she wanted right now was Brett Dobson. The man facing her was handsome in a dark-blond, beach-boy sort of way, tall and obviously muscular under the suit he was wearing. Whatever Michael Jacobs’ virtues—and he had them, Linda admitted; he was smart, hard-working, and (especially under the driving spell of her legs) great in bed—he wasn’t great-looking. Not ugly—just not great-looking.

She deserved a treat, the drinks she’d consumed told her. And she knew how to get it. She knew he was turned on by her; she saw how his eyes ran over the curves flaunted by the tight black pants and open-necked white blouse she was wearing. Unlike Michael, he didn’t seem especially drawn to her legs and feet; the whole package appealed to him. That appealed to her.

“Freshen your drink for you?” she asked. At Dobson’s nod, Linda refilled his cup from the punch bowl. A fairly strong odor of alcohol hinted that the punch contained something stronger than fruit juice.

“Wouldn’t you like to go someplace more . . . private?” she asked. The innuendo in her voice was unmistakable.

Sober, Brett would have turned her down without a second thought. He was a pretty clean-cut guy. But the spiked punch had softened his resistance. “Sure,” he replied. He allowed her to lead him away, out of the large suite where the party was being held and into the hall.

Linda tried several doors along the corridor, finally finding one unlocked. She peeked inside and smiled; it was perfect. She urged Brett inside.

The room was evidently used for meetings. It was dominated by a long table surrounded by comfortable chairs. Off to one side there was a set of filing cabinets; on the other, a well-cushioned sofa rested flush against the wall. A small table in the back held a coffee pot and a stack of paper cups.

Linda sat in one of the chairs and beckoned for Brett to take the one beside her. He obliged, sighing gratefully as he sank into the soft seat.

“Now,” Linda said, “isn’t this better? So much quieter, so much more private.”

“Yes, I guess so,” admitted Brad. “But listen, should we really be in here like this? Alone, I mean.”

“Don’t be silly,” answered Linda. “We’re not hurting anyone.”

“But, ah,” Brett said nervously, “what about your husband?”

“Who, Michael?” Linda chuckled. “What’s he got to do with this? We’re just a couple of co-workers taking a break from a noisy party to have a private chat.”

“Er, if you say so.” Brett didn’t sound entirely reassured.

It was time, Linda decided, to move to the next stage. Ironically, Brett had given her a perfect opening by mentioning Michael.

Her husband had given her a pair of very expensive diamond bracelets as an early Christmas present, and she was wearing them now. They were really a bit much for an office party like this one, she knew: they belonged with a fancy gown and an upswept hairdo at some ritzy ballroom function. But she hadn’t been able to resist rubbing her former co-workers’ noses in her good fortune. Now that bit of spitefulness was turning out to come in handy.

She held up her wrists, letting the many facets of the diamonds encircling them catch the light from the overhead fixtures and sent off bright multi-colored flashes. “Look what Michael gave me,” she bragged.

“Wow,” Brett said. “They must’ve cost a mint!”

Linda crossed her wrists in front of her bosom and began turning them this way and that. As she did, her arms compressed her breasts from the sides, pushing their soft flesh in and forward. As she’d hoped, that drew Brett’s attention, making sure he kept looking where she wanted him to look. After a few moments, she replied, “Yes, but they’re worth it. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” murmured the man in front of her. “They’re beautiful.”

“I like to watch them glitter this way,” Linda remarked. “They’re . . . well, captivating. Like a pair of diamond handcuffs.”

“Diamond . . . handcuffs?” Brett sounded confused now, more so than could be accounted for by the alcohol in his system.

“Yes, that’s right,” Linda agreed. She smiled confidently. She had him now. “Diamond handcuffs. Magic bracelets, magic handcuffs, that hold the mind as well as the body when you look at them. When you watch them move, and catch the light. When your eyes follow the sparkling jewels. Yes. . . .”

Brett was blinking now. The flashes from the gems were dazzling, they hurt his eyes, but they were so beautiful. He couldn’t seem to look away. And from beyond the beautiful rainbow flashes, Linda’s voice went on. After a while, the flashing reflections were all he saw, and Linda’s voice was all he heard, explaining to him about the magic bracelets, the beautiful diamond handcuffs that bound the mind.

A male voice muttered the words. “Magic bracelets.” It was several seconds before Brett recognized the voice as his own. By then it had added, “Handcuffs of the mind.” A vague sense of warning swept through him, but the lights. The pretty flashing lights. The warning died away. Nothing was wrong. Nothing could be wrong while he watched the pretty flashing lights coming off those beautiful bracelets and listened to that wonderful voice.

Linda pretended to struggle to pull her wrists apart. “Can’t . . . get free,” she panted theatrically. “Can’t get loose. Bound by the diamond handcuffs, the magic handcuffs, can’t get free.”

“Can’t get free,” echoed Brett. He brought his own wrists together, then bunched his muscles, straining unsuccessfully to separate them again. A few seconds’ effort was all he managed before he gave up and relaxed into the pretty flashing lights again.

Linda Jacobs lowered her hands and inspected Brett Dobson. He was definitely under, she decided. As she watched, he continued to murmur the words “Magic handcuffs. Handcuffs of the mind,” over and over, very softly. His arms rested in his lap, wrists still crossed, bound in their imaginary manacles. His face was slack, his glassy, half-closed eyes still fixed on the spot where she’d held her wrists to let the bracelets catch the light from above.

“Brett, honey, can you hear me?” Linda asked in a soothing voice.

“Yes,” came the response. “I hear you.”

“You’re very relaxed right now, aren’t you, Brett. Very relaxed. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Brett mumbled. “Very . . . relaxed.” His eyelids drooped a little more, and his chin dropped slightly.

“You can still see my bracelets, can’t you, Brett,” she asked—told—him. “You can still see them, turning and flashing.”

“Yes. I can still see them. Turning. Flashing.”

“Use my name, Brett sweetie, when you answer me. We’re such good friends, aren’t we? Use my name.”

“Yes, Linda,” the hypnotized hunk husked. “Such good friends. Use your . . . name.”

“Good boy, Brett honey,” Linda responded. “Now close your eyes, Brett, yes, close them and drift, you can still see the magic handcuffs and the pretty flashing lights they make, even with your eyes closed you can still see them, isn’t that right.”

“Yes, Linda.” Brett’s eyes closed completely. Behind their lids, the diamond bracelets continued to turn and flash, turn and flash. “I can still see them. They’re . . . beautiful.”

Linda thought for a bit. She’d love to screw the handsome man sitting across from her, totally under her power. She was sure he’d obey her erotic suggestions—her experience with Michael, and with one or two men since Michael, had shown her men were very cooperative that way when in trance. Hypnosis could strip away whatever social inhibitions they had, allowing their most primal impulses to come to the surface—with her, of course, remaining in command. Regretfully, she decided against it.

Not yet, she told herself firmly. Not here. There were too many other people too close by. If someone should happen, for any reason, to leave the party and stumble on the two of them naked and bucking together, she’d have a lot of explaining to do—especially if their discoverer saw that Brett was hypnotized.

But there was no reason she couldn’t set things up for later.

“Brett,” said Linda, “you want me, don’t you? You’ve wanted me so long, and it’s been so hard to pretend you didn’t. So long. So hard.”

“So long,” gasped Brett. “So hard.” His breathing grew ragged.

Linda craned her neck just a little. A smug expression settled over her face as she saw the bulge growing in Brett’s trousers. “Yes. You’re so long. So hard. You want nothing more than to take me, right here, right now.”

Brett groaned and started to rise from his chair. Linda stopped him: “No, Brad. Sit down, sweetie. Sit down, and relax, and think of the magic bracelets, and listen to Linda.”

Brett obeyed.

“You want me, but we can’t be together tonight,” Linda continued. “Soon, but not tonight. Michael mustn’t know.” She wasn’t really worried about that, not with the hold she had on her husband, but the suggestion would help lead Brett along the path she wanted.

Her hypnotized toy nodded, repeating, “Michael mustn’t know.”

Holding her braceleted wrists together as if manacled, she held them up under Brett’s glazed eyes and repeated, “These bracelets are magic, handcuffs of the mind.” That imagery would be very effective, she judged. “Soon I’ll wake you up, Brett, and when I do, you won’t remember what happened in this room; in fact, when we leave this room, you will forget we were ever here. Do you understand, Brett?”

“Understand,” Brett said. “Magic bracelets. Handcuffs of the mind. When you wake me up . . . I will forget what happened here. When we leave this room . . . I will forget we were . . . ever here.”

“Very good, Brett,” Linda had said. “But if I ever show you these bracelets again, with my wrists held together like this, or if I ever say the words, ‘Magic bracelets, handcuffs of the mind,’ you will at once relax the way you are now and obey me without thought or question until I awaken you again. Do you understand, Brett, and will you obey? Repeat my instructions if you understand and will obey.”

“I understand, and I will obey,” Brett had responded. He repeated her commands, word for word.

“Good boy, Brett,” said the sexy hypnotist. “Now I’m going to wake you up, Brett honey, I’m going to snap my fingers and wake you up, Brett honey, and we’re going to go back to the party. And as soon as we get back to the party, Brett honey, you’re going to forget what happened here, forget you were ever here.”

Brett nodded. “As soon as we get back to the party, I’m going to . . . forget.” He smiled sleepily.

Linda snapped her fingers.

Brett blinked.

“We’d better get back,” Linda told him. “The others will start wondering where we are.” She stood up.

Brett followed suit, offering her his arm, and they left the room. Out in the hallway, Linda gently detached herself. “We’d better not be seen holding each other,” she warned.

“Whatever you say, Linda,” answered Brett. Linda studied him as they walked back toward the celebration. He seemed completely awake and aware now, merely . . . agreeable, that was the word, she decided. Perfect.

As they re-entered the large ballroom where the party was going on, Brett blinked again and raised a hand to his head. Linda smiled sweetly and asked, “Is there something wrong, Brett?”

“Um,” he answered. Wasn’t there something he’d forgotten? “Er, no, I guess not.” Looking down at his blonde companion, he murmured a polite “Nice talking to you” before ambling off toward the refreshment tables.

Linda all but cackled with glee. Her suggestion that he forget their tryst had kicked in right on cue. In his own way, Brett was as controllable as Michael.

This was going to be fun! All she needed was the right opportunity, and . . . She licked her lips in anticipation.

Shortly she went home. She’d had all the fun she was going to at this party. She was still horny, though. When her husband finally got home, she ambushed him and, despite his pleas of fatigue, soon . . . persuaded . . . him into sex. Presently he was pumping energetically into Linda, muttering his mantra “Legs . . . ankles . . . high heels“ as he serviced her. In his dazed state, he never noticed when Linda’s hips bucked wildly and she screamed out, “Oh, Brett!“ All he was aware of were her lush body and the images of swinging legs which danced through his mesmerized mind.

Later, though, as Linda lay atop his slumbering form, that memory came back to her, and she breathed a sigh of relief that Michael would never recall what she’d cried out as her nails clawed his back.

It was several weeks before Linda could arrange another encounter with Brett. Discretion was essential. Michael might be safely under control, but everyone else wasn’t. Finally the chance came. Michael was out of town at a “retreat” for mid-level management to which Linda herself, as a mere junior manager, was not invited. She looked up Brett’s extension in the company’s on-line directory and called him.

“Hello,” his voice came to her over the phone. “Brett Dobson speaking. Who’s calling, please?”

“It’s me,” Linda answered him. “Linda Jacobs. You remember, we met at the Christmas party.”

“Um, yeah,” responded Brett. A wary tone crept into his voice. “Why are you calling me, Linda? I mean, Mrs. Jacobs.”

“I have something important to discuss with you, Brett,” Linda replied. “Magic bracelets, handcuffs of the mind.”

There was a small gasp, then silence on the other end of the line. After half a minute or so, Linda asked, “Brett? Are you still there? Can you hear me, Brett?”

“Still here,” a masculine mumble confirmed. “I can . . . hear you.”

Linda smiled a naughty smile. That dazed voice indicated her suggestions at the party were working perfectly. As soon as he’d heard his trigger phrase, Brett had plunged helplessly into hypnosis.

“Brett,” she told him, “in a moment, I’m going to wake you up. When I do, you won’t remember this phone call. You’ll forget all about it, Brett, you’ll hang up the phone and forget all about this call, but you’ll come over to my office and ask me out to lunch. You’ll believe asking me out to lunch is your own idea, and thinking of going out with me will make you feel excited and horny, Brett. Do you understand, and will you do as I’ve asked?”

Brett murmured agreement.

“Very good, Brett honey,” Linda said. “Now when I say the words, ‘You’re free to go,’ you’ll wake up and follow your instructions, Brett. Do you remember what those instructions are, Brett, the instructions you’ll obey when you wake up? Repeat your instructions, Brett, if you remember them.”

Brett droned her commands back at her.

“Perfect, Brett. Good boy!” Linda’s smile grew even wider. “You’re free to go.”

There was a click, then a dial tone.

Linda laughed. Brett was obeying.

She rummaged in her desk and pulled out a small box. Opening it, she took out the diamond bracelets inside, the same diamond bracelets she’d used to hypnotize Brett at the party. The bracelets she’d programmed him to be powerless against. She put them on, then took out a compact and used its mirror to help her adjust her hair and freshen her makeup. She’d be having a visitor soon. Sure enough, not ten minutes later, there came a knock on her office door. “Come in, Brett,” she called out.

Brett opened the door and came in, wearing a puzzled expression. “How did you know it was me?”

Linda smiled coyly from under lowered lashes. “Just a feeling,” she answered. She’d forgotten for a moment that he wouldn’t know she’d be expecting him. “Did you need to see me for something, Brett?”

There was something strange going on here, Brett told himself. It was almost as if she’d known he was coming over.

He shrugged it away. It wasn’t important.

He took a deep breath. “I was wondering, um, if you’d like to go out to lunch?”

“Why, thank you, Brett,” replied Linda. “I’d be delighted!”

She rose from her seat and went to the coat tree standing in one corner of the office to retrieve the heavy overcoat she had there. She shrugged it on, and she and Brett left her office.

Linda enjoyed the lunch. The food at the little place to which Brett took her was excellent, and the games she played with Brett’s head during the meal only made it taste better.

Brett kept nervously bringing up the fact that his sexy companion was married. Every time he did, though, she gave him a peek at her bracelets. Even the slightest glimpse of them confused him, made him forget what he’d been saying. The several drinks he consumed as he ate disoriented him even more. Watching him weaken excited Linda; soon, she found herself breathing hard. God, she wanted him!

She sprang her trap. Propping her elbows on the table, she pressed her forearms together and began turning her wrists back and forth, letting her bracelets catch the light from the chandelier overhead. Brett’s eyes locked on immediately.

“My bracelets are beautiful,” Linda purred. “See how they catch the light? See how they hold your eyes? They’re beautiful. They’re magic.”

“Magic bracelets,” whispered Brett. “Handcuffs of the mind.”

“That’s right,” agreed his date. “They hold your attention, hold your mind, like handcuffs. Handcuffs of the mind. Beautiful handcuffs of the mind.” Back and forth her wrists went, sending small rainbow flashes through the air. Brett’s eyes followed, back and forth, back and forth. At last they shut, but Linda could see them continuing to move, back and forth, back and forth, behind their closed lids.

She let Brett drift deeper for a minute or two. At last, when she felt he was ready, she spoke: “Open your eyes, Brett honey. Open your eyes, but remain in this wonderful, relaxed place where you are. Open your eyes, look at me and listen.”

Brett did as she’d commanded. Eyes open, he looked at Linda, a perfectly calm expression on his face.

“That’s it, Brett baby,” Linda crooned. “Keep your eyes on me now.” Her braceleted wrists were still up in front of her; Brett’s eyes flicked back and forth between her face and the sparkling wrist ornaments. “Keep your eyes on my face now, Brett sweetie, as you listen to my voice; you don’t need to look at my bracelets any more. The image of my magic bracelets, handcuffs of the mind, remains in your mind, binding your mind as you listen to my voice. Isn’t that right, Brett?”

“Yes, Linda,” her dazed date answered. His eyes fastened on hers and remained there.

“Good boy, Brett,” Linda said. “You find me attractive, don’t you, Brett? Yes, of course you do.”

“Of course . . . I do.”

“Of course.” Linda smirked. She’d hypnotized this hunky guy right out in public. If she wanted, she could make him do just about anything—and she intended to. Just not here. She continued: “You want to go to bed with me, don’t you, Brett? You want it so bad, you need it so bad, you don’t care about anything else.”

Brett moaned and squirmed in his seat. “God,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Yes. Please, Linda.”

“You’ll do anything to have sex with me, won’t you, Brett. Anything I say.” He’d do anything she said whether sex was involved or not, of course. Right now, he was her personal robot.

“Anything,” confirmed Brett. “Anything . . . you say.” He shivered in ecstasy, lost in a private world connected to ordinary reality only by the sound of Linda’s voice.

“Then listen carefully,” Linda commanded. “You know you’re hypnotized, Brett, don’t you? You’re deeply hypnotized, totally in my power.”

“Yes, Linda,” agreed Brett, nodding. “I’m deeply hypnotized. Totally in your power.” His breathing, already rapid, sped up a little more, and Linda smiled.

“It excites you to know you’re hypnotized, doesn’t it, Brett? It turns you on to know you’re totally in my power.” This was a happy surprise. Evidently she had uncovered a buried fetish of Brett’s, a submissive fantasy he kept private. She could use this.

“Yes, oh God, yes . . . Linda . . . nnhh!“ Brett seemed on the verge of coming right there and then.

Linda didn’t want that. “Not here, Brett,” she instructed him. “Not yet. Relax.”

He obeyed, instantly calming. His breathing slowed and steadied.

“In a moment, Brett, I’m going to snap my fingers.” It was a cliché, but a useful one. “When I snap my fingers, Brett, you will at once begin to act as if you are not hypnotized, as if you’re not under my power. You will still be hypnotized, still deeply under my power, but you’ll act as if you aren’t. You’ll act perfectly normally, but you will continue to do as I say. You’ll do this because if you do, you’ll get to have sex with me. Do you understand, Brett, and will you follow my instructions?” “Yes, Linda,” came the reply. “I understand. I will . . . follow your instructions.”

Linda snapped her fingers. Brett blinked.

“Get the check, Brett, sweetie,” Linda directed. “You’ll pay for our dinners, of course.”

Brett signaled their waitress, who came over promptly. At his request, she produced the meal bill. Brett paid by credit card, making sure to include a generous tip for their server. Then, Linda on his arm and murmuring into his ear, he left the restaurant.

They’d driven to lunch in Brett’s car. Linda, however, was none too eager to let a hypnotized man drive her anywhere, even if he was under orders to act unhypnotized. Fortunately, that was easy to handle.

“Give me your keys, Brett,” she breathed into the blond man’s ear. “Let me drive, baby, you’re a little drunk.”

Brett stumbled, suddenly uncoordinated, and mumbled, “Guess you’re right.” He handed over his car keys and the two of them got into the vehicle, Brett taking the passenger’s side. Linda started the engine and asked, “Where do you live, Brett? Is it far from here?”

Her hypnotized himbo named an address, a middle-class apartment complex. “Not far,” he observed.

It wasn’t. Linda chuckled. Things just kept getting better and better. “Let’s go there for a while, shall we? It wouldn’t do for you to go back to work crocked.”

She drove across town to Brett’s place. The pair went inside and up to his apartment, which was on the third floor. Brad spoke again, for the first time since he’d told her where he lived: “I need my keys, Linda, or we can’t get in. They’re on the same chain as my car keys.”

Linda handed the keychain back. Brett seemed so normal, so awake, it was hard to believe he was really still deep in trance. But he was, he had to be; the Brett Dobson she knew was far too much of a straight arrow to let a married woman like her take him back to his apartment in the middle of a work day like this unless he was under some sort of influence.

That turned her on even more. God, how she loved the power! She’d never realized until Michael how much she craved being in control, and now here she was with another man who’d do anything she said, believe anything she told him to believe. She could feel herself getting wet already.

Brett opened the door and they went inside.

Linda had been half-expecting his apartment to be a stereotypical bachelor sty, but it wasn’t. Inexpensive but tasteful furniture, including several well-stocked bookcases, gave his rooms a nicely livable look. Everything was clean and tidy, too. She approved.

But she hadn’t come over to rate Brett’s living quarters. She addressed the mesmerized man at her side: “Brett, you’ve been a very good boy. You’ve done just as I told you to. Now it’s time for your reward.”

“Re—reward?” The blond turned toward her.

“Yes, Brett.” Linda cupped Brett’s chin in one hand and looked into his eyes. “Your reward. I promised that if you did as I asked, you’d get to have sex with me, remember? That’s your reward, Brett, baby. Sex. Now kiss me, and forget about anything but sex with me until I tell you otherwise.”

Brett bent down, pressing his lips to Linda’s upturned mouth, and gathered her into his embrace. A moment later, he began pulling her down toward the floor. Soon both of them were naked and writhing together on the soft piled carpet, Linda’s thighs clenching around Brett’s muscular form, her fingernails digging into his broad back as he pumped away.

Some time later, Brett rose from the floor with Linda hammocked in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Both of them were quite naked now, and glistened with sweat. Brett toppled onto his large bed, releasing his hold on the woman who was now his world. She squealed as she rolled free onto the blankets. Then the pair picked up where they had left off in the other room, and for a while, neither of them did any thinking.

Finally Linda called a halt. They had to get back to the office, she told herself sternly. There’d be time enough for more playing around some other day.

She got herself dressed, then led a drowsy Brett through the same task for himself. They left his apartment—Linda was amused to see that even deep in trance, Brett locked the door automatically, without having to be told—and went back to the car. As she’d done before, she commanded Brett to hand over the keys. As he obeyed, she had a thought.

“Brett, sweetie,” she told him, “as soon as you get a chance, you’re going to make a duplicate set of keys. You’re going to give those keys to me, Brett, because I want them and you want me, and then you’re going to forget all about them. You’re going to make a duplicate set of all your keys, give them to me and forget you ever made them.”

“Yes, Linda,” Brett answered. “Make duplicate keys. Give them . . . to you. Forget I ever . . . made them. Yes, Linda.” His eyes, looking at her, were wide and unknowing as he recited the words.

Hearing her hypnotized stud drone back the instructions she’d given him made Linda hot again. It was a real effort to resist the temptation to take him again right there. Linda was panting as she opened the driver’s side door and got in.

After a few moments spent collecting herself, she realized Brad was still standing outside. Of course, she reminded himself; she’d forgotten to command him to “act normal” again after plunging him deep into trance for her sexual ride, so he couldn’t think to get into the car. He awaited her next command.

“Get in, Brett, honey,” she said out the window. “Open the front passenger-side door and get in.”

Brett did as he’d been bidden, walking around the vehicle, opening the door and climbing in.

He really is my robot slave right now, Linda thought, smirking. She supposed he wouldn’t rob a bank or shoot someone at her command—that was too far outside his normal moral boundaries, or at least she assumed it was—but she’d already proved to her great satisfaction that he’d do just about anything else she ordered.

Once again, consciousness of the power she had over the handsome man beside her aroused Linda. She had to struggle to focus as she started the car. Fortunately, once they pulled out of the apartment building’s parking lot, driving took her mind off other matters. She made it back to the office without incident and pulled into Brett’s parking space.

Turning, she gave the keys back to Brad, who pocketed them without a word. Then she considered her next move.

Should she make Brett completely forget what had happened between them? That would reduce the risk of his saying something that might land her in trouble, but it would also mean she’d have to hypnotize him again every time she felt like a date. Besides, if she did that, he might start wondering why he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing.

No, there was a better way.

Linda brought up her arms again, wrists pressed together. Brett’s eyes widened and he went rigid.

“Good boy, Brett,” Linda said. “Listen carefully now. In a minute, I’m going to wake you up. Do you remember the words I told you would wake you up, back at the Christmas party, Brett? Tell me the words, Brett, if you remember.”

“’You’re free to go,’” Brett quoted. Linda clapped her hands, pleased that the wake-up phrase she’d planted way back at their first encounter was still embedded in the blond man’s mind.

“That’s right, Brett, honey. When I say those words now, you’ll wake up, relaxed and refreshed, just as you did before.” Linda drew a deep breath. “In a moment, I’m going to say the words. When I do, you’ll wake up, relaxed and refreshed, and you’ll remember that we had lunch—and that afterward, you took me to your apartment and we had wild sex together.

“What you will not remember is that I hypnotized you. Unless I tell you to, you will never remember that I hypnotized you; all you’ll know is that you want to see me again. You’ll want that very much, Brett.

“And if I hypnotize you again, which I can do anytime I want with my bracelets, or with the words ‘Magic bracelets, handcuffs of the mind,’ when I wake you up you will again forget that you were hypnotized. And when you are hypnotized, Brett, you’ll wake up, with no memory of being hypnotized unless I tell you to remember, when I say the words I used to wake you up before. Now before I wake you, Brett, what is it that can make you relaxed and obedient again, hypnotized again?”

“Magic bracelets. Handcuffs of the mind.” Brett’s voice was low and level. “The bracelets, raised”—he demonstrated with his own arms—” or the words.”

“And what is it that will wake you up, with no memory of being hypnotized unless I tell you to remember?”

“When you say, ‘You’re free to go.’”

“Excellent, Brett darling. You’ve done very well.” Linda leaned over to kiss him on the lips, then pulled back and said: “You’re free to go.”

Brett blinked. He smiled at Linda. “Wow,” he said after a long moment. “You’re really something, you know that?” His smile broadened into a grin.

Oh, baby, Linda said to herself, you have no idea. To Brett, however, she replied, “So are you, Brett. So are you.”

“We’d better get inside,” her companion replied. “It’s—Christ, nearly four o’clock?” He fumbled with the door latch and got out of the car, vaguely puzzled that Linda had done the driving on the trip back. How had that happened?

Oh, well, he decided, it didn’t matter. He headed inside toward his cubicle.

Back in her office a few minutes later, Linda gloated. She’d just had a great fucking afternoon, in more ways than one, and there would be more to come. Already she was planning ahead to where they might go on future dates. A fancy hotel, perhaps? On Brett’s tab, of course. The way she’d set things up, he thought he was simply attracted to her; he had no idea how much control she really had in their relationship. If she handled things right, eventually he’d be helplessly eager to please her without even having to be put under. It had worked pretty much that way with Michael, after all; she hardly needed to entrance him now, except when she wanted something really outrageous.

Thinking of Michael gave her a wicked idea. Perhaps, once Brett was properly trained, she’d bring him over to her place one night. She found the idea of sex with another man in the house she shared with her husband incredibly arousing. She’d already had a couple of guys over, nights when Michael wasn’t going to be home till late; Brett would just be the first one she’d hypnotized beforehand.

Yes, that was definitely an idea to remember.