The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

6. The Bathroom

Now I know some Americans can be sensitive about the bathroom and especially the toilet—someone once told me that there was a scene in “Psycho” which was the first time a mainstream theatrical film actually showed a toilet flushing. Whenever we’ve had an American guest, they go to almost comical levels to avoid saying they’d like to go off and have a piss. That said, it had to be the next space to be given a session, with running water, of whatever kind, the main theme.

The bathroom was a tricky space, but it was a matter of honour now. Trouble was, we’d just had it renovated when I started on this little cycle of bondage sessions, and since it had been done up in the modern style, there was a distinct lack of anchor points—or at least ones you could trust wouldn’t demolish the entire renovation if she got to a little frantic tugging on her bonds. No spa either—that’s due out the back during the next bout of renovations.

At last I hit on a plan.

First I put her in a trance, and made her drink some water. Then I moved her from the light induction by getting her to go up to the shower. I put her into the deeper trance in the shower—it seemed right for both of us to get clean and freshen up, with the water adding piquancy to the count down. My girlfriend had never liked being in the bathroom with me—she’d always been modest, and there hadn’t been much room. In fact we’d never taken a shower together—now here we were soaping and lathering each other up, and after I’d had enough of being massaged all over, and my cock was standing upright, I told her to kneel down and suck me off. Now I knew why we’d decided on an oversize shower recess with thick glass that didn’t need any frame—there was plenty of room for her to stretch out, with her legs jutting out of the door. I’m sure that if I’d suggested this to my girlfriend while she was out of a trance, she’d have told me that she didn’t want to do it. A click of my fingers, and now here she was head down, slurping away, pausing, stopping, then going deeper and deeper as she sank into trance. I was using my old trick of having her suck and stop when she got deep, then start again and go deeper. Once she’d gone as deep as I thought she could, I told her to stop sucking, and bent down to watch as I gave her a new suggestion—to take a pee on the shower. Taking a drink was essential preparation for this event, and it would be a good way to check on how far she’d gone, how much she was under my control, how much I could control her bodily functions.

Now I’m not really into golden showers, or all that kind of stuff. I like to keep focussed on coming, and not forgetting the main game. All respect to those who have it as their preferred fetish—it just happens not to be high on my list. Even so, I could begin to see what was in it as, after a little pause, my girlfriend began to pee, a little dribble of yellow urine spurting out, mingling with the water, and swirling down the plughole. She did it happily, easily, the trickle building as it ran down her leg. It was something she’d never done before in my presence, and certainly never do if she wasn’t in a trance, and yet she seemed to enjoy doing it, perhaps because I told her she was really getting off on it. I made her stroke herself as she peed, and with a little shudder, she had a mini come.

After that, it was time to towel down, something she could do because she’d reached that level of somnambulism where she could stay in a trance and still do anything—open her eyes, move about, do anything I said.

Now it was on to the main course. It so happened that the wash basin was directly in line with the toilet, and above the toilet was a small window, with bars on the outside (we lived in an area where junkies liked to visit if they saw an open window). So I put a towel down on the floor, then tied her elbows and wrists behind her, and made her kneel down. The final step was to tie her arms up and back to the tap sitting in the middle of the washbasin. It was simple, effective and easy to adjust, so that I could tilt her over towards the toilet, making sure her mouth sat perfectly placed above the seat. Simple then for me to slide into position on the toilet, adjust the angle and see her mouth slide up and down, greasing my cock with its moisture.

But if it worked one way, it would also work the other, and I wanted to push the window (excuse the pun) a little further. So I made her sit on the toilet, and tied her hand up behind her onto the bars of the window behind her. Then I told her to piss, and as she leaned over, she took my cock in her mouth and I could watch as she sucked and as the piss trickled into the toilet bowl. Now you might say for someone who isn’t into water sports, this sounds suspiciously like the real thing, and I have to say it was fun—her trickling into the bowl, me building to a good hard climax in her mouth, the sound of the trickle adding to the pleasure and the need to come. It wasn’t as big a piss from her as she’d done in the shower—she’d pissed away most of her intake—but it was enough, and it was a helluva come for me.

I told her not to swallow, but to let the come trickle out of her mouth and down her chin, telling her to get her head up and look straight at me, and that’s when I had just enough presence of mind left to take a photo of her, her eyes glazed and far staring, her arms stretching out behind her ...it turned out the best photo in the whole series of sessions, and later I turned it into a large black and white print which I kept in my study downstairs ... I know Susan Sontag had a thing about photography, that it was wrong to use it like a tourist or as an aid to memory, but I’m sure she’d change her mind if she could see the white globs of semen trickling down from my girlfriend’s mouth to her chin ...

7. The Box

After all the shenanigans with the various sessions, I decided the next time had to be a simple routine. Things had started to get too complex and too lengthy. By the time I got to come, I was getting puffed out by the work, by all the plays needed to make a touchdown each time ...

One night I was putting away some washed towels—we had a wooden box at the bottom of the spare bed which held various bits and pieces—when it struck me that the box was a little narrower and a little longer than the same kind of box we had in the main bedroom ... in a way which would just about suit the length and shape of my girlfriend’s figure.

We’d once fooled around on the box in the main bedroom, but it was just a little too wide to be useful or comfortable. Okay, so time to give it another go, using a different kind of chest. My girlfriend was making the bed, and there was a long night stretching in front of us, with nothing to do but television or a bit of surfing, and so I clicked my fingers, and she went on making the bed as if nothing had happened.

I was a little uncertain whether things had worked this time, so I said to her to come in and have a look at something in the spare bedroom. She slowly looked up from stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase, with a faraway, glazed look in her eyes, blinking in her steady way, and I knew that it’d be a long time before me and her and hypnosis came unstuck.

I told her to come into the spare bedroom, and she slowly moved around the bed towards me. We moved into the next room, and I sat down on the box. I told her to kneel in front of me, and asked her to fish out my cock.

She had a little trouble undoing the zip, but she stared intently at it, tugging and pulling at the zip until it came open. Next she fished inside my underpants, and eventually slipped my cock out—as it was already coming to attention, it was just as well she got it out when she did.

She stared at my cock, but did nothing more. I told her that she knew what to do, and she began sucking the tip. I put on my best voice, deep and slow, and told her that as she sucked she would quickly reach the deepest level she’d ever been, and then she’d stop. As soon as her head came to a halt, I told her to start again, because now as she sucked, she’d go deeper and deeper, deep into the deepest trance she’d ever been in.

After a few minutes of this, I told her to stand up—she was now visibly far gone—and to get undressed while I did a few things. While she slowly took off piece after piece, I watched and prepared the box for action.

First I shifted the box away from the end of the bed, so I could walk around it, then I slipped a sheepskin rug we had on the floor in the spare bedroom onto the box. It was the kind Australians sold to Japanese tourists, who went home knowing they had this nice, soft shagpile-style piece of merino wool in their luggage. It was nice and soft, and about two thirds along the box, I also put a couple of pillows.

Then I told my girlfriend to lie down on the box. It took a little adjusting as she lay on the box, but soon I had her so that her arms and legs dropped off each side of the box, while her backside floated high up off the box on the pillows, exposing her bum and cunt nicely as her legs spilled off each side. Her head just fitted on the edge of the box.

I told her to tuck her legs back towards her arms as far as she could. Then I fitted wrists and ankles with belts. It was now a simple, quick matter to tie her wrist and ankle together on one side of the box, then her wrist to her ankle on the other side of the box. It surprised me just how close I could bring her ankle back up to her wrist, and how it provided a kind of spring that dragged her legs apart, keeping her cunt well exposed.

She seemed comfortable, and yet it was a simple, stringent tie that kept her held wide and tight. I know I said that I was going to keep it simple, but I couldn’t resist sticking a vibrator up her cunt, and taking pictures of it and her as it went to work. With a few suggestions that she was hypersensitive, it didn’t take long to bring her off. I strapped the vibrator into her with a quick tie that sent a belt around her stomach, and then a tie off that up from the back up around the vibrator embedded in her cunt to her stomach, where I tied it off again. So she had that distraction for the rest of the session.

But that’s where it ended—I wanted to move on to the main feast quickly, and this time I wanted to make sure it was going to be deep throat. As I’d done a few other times, I suggested that she’d be able to deep throat me easily, without any kind of reflex, and that she’d be relaxed as she let me come deep in her mouth.

Then I slid her up along the box—again the simple tie, which didn’t actually fix her to the box made it very easy—and I soon had her head bent backwards over the box, her mouth wide open. I slid a small pillow under her head, for her benefit, but also for mine

Putting my knees either side of her head, kneeling a little against the pillow at the edge of the box, I presented my cock to her mouth. The angle was perfect—I could slip my cock straight into her mouth, directly into her throat.

I pushed in as far as I could, right down to the pubic hairs, and she took me easily. It was an amazingly tight fit—here she was, her head forced down against the box, with nowhere to move, and here I was deep in her throat, able to push into her as hard as I liked. I began gently enough, but the position was too good, it felt too good, and soon enough I was pushing into her mouth hard, and what was even more amazing, she was taking it, and even managing to suck a little as I went up and down, right down to her throat, and soon enough I was coming in spurts that didn’t go into her mouth, but I’ll swear bypassed her throat and shot directly into her stomach.

The next day, she complained of a little soreness in the throat, but didn’t seem to know how or why it might have happened, and a little guiltily, I offered her lozenges and a quiet life. The moral is probably that there’s a lot to be said for shagging on a sheepskin rug, or that the simplest tie is the tightest, or that the deeper the throat, the bigger the explosion ... one way or another, it proved to me that you can’t get enough oral hypnosis ...

8. The Weights Machine

Now that I’ve been able to look around with me with fresh eyes for inspiration for new sessions, it didn’t take me long to check out an old weights machine that was sitting in a corner of the spare room.

I don’t go into the spare room much. I tend to get my exercise in other ways these days. Life is short, and while I know sex isn’t the best way to burn calories, it surely beats a regime of reps and curls. My girlfriend didn’t like the machine. She thought it was too mechanical and metallic, and after she tried it once, she refused to go near it again. She preferred yoga, which gave her a little more flexibility—but as she didn’t take too seriously it didn’t put her in the tantric class. So neither of us was an athlete, and all the more reason, it seemed to me, to make use of the machine.

While it was a bit old fashioned—it was the kind of thing you picked up in last year’s informercials, only to have it superceded six months later—it meant it was maybe a bit more solid and useful than the cut down things that have been the rage lately.

For a start, it had a good solid bench, and an attachment for leg curls, and a pulldown bar mounted on a fairly tall strut at the other end which could be used for overhead pulldowns, curls and that sort of upper body work.

So it was here, on the machine she didn’t like, that I decided to next give my girlfriend a work out. There was no point in trying to get her onto the machine—that would have been a no sale—but these days I didn’t have to worry about my selling techniques.

Instead I used my usual circuitous techniques. Again it was fortuitous. We happened to be in the kitchen. She happened to be licking her fingers after she’d spilled a little vegemite (for American readers, it’s true that some people in Australia eat the salty yeasty black muck that passes for a spread, but has all the style and taste of a mega strength beef stock cube pounded into a paste). Anyway, my girlfriend loves the stuff, and as she licked her fingers, I thought the time had come for another bout of sex.

I clicked my fingers, and she paused in mid action, in mid suck on the finger. I told her that her finger was a cock, and that she should start sucking on it sensuously. She immediately began to slide her finger in and out of her mouth, licking and sucking on it. I told her that the cock (finger) was getting harder and harder, straighter and straighter as a result of her sucking, and sure enough her finger became rigid, pointing at her throat.

That’s when I went into a riff on my standard routine, telling her that as she sucked, she would go deeper and deeper, until finally she reach the deepest state she’d ever reached, and when she did that she should slow and then stop sucking. It didn’t take long for her to stop sucking, her finger halfway embedded in her mouth. I told her that now she would start sucking again, and as she did so, she would go deeper and deeper, until she was in the deepest trance she’d ever been in.

It didn’t take long for her to go into a really deep trance. More as a matter of curiosity than as part of the main game, I told her that the cock in her mouth was ready to come, it was getting harder and harder, more and more aroused, and she was getting more and more excited by it. Sure enough, the cock in her mouth seemed to get harder and bigger, and then I warned her that it was about to come and she’d be flooded by a warm spurt of semen, and that she’d gobble it down greedily. It’d taste like her favourite chocolate ice cream, and she’d want to swallow every last drop. She’d suck the cock until it was completely empty.

A couple of repeats of this suggestion, and then I told her the cock was coming in her mouth, a huge come, with loads and loads of semen gushing into her mouth. She sucked on the cock frantically and swallowed what seemed to be a load of chocolate icecream, licking her finger eagerly in the desire to suck it dry.

As an exercise in suggestion, it was pretty impressive. It seemed to be a good omen for the next stage.

I told her to head up to the spare room. She made her way up the stairs, and I made her sit down on the weights machine. It was the first time we’d been in this space together in a long time.

I suggested that she get undressed. It didn’t take long for her to get her clothes off. First of all, I told her to sit on the bench, and I tied her hands to the pulldown bar. The bench was narrow enough for me to stand legs either side of it, and thrust my cock into her mouth. It was a good position, but it really wasn’t that novel. My girlfriend sucked away, and as she did, I looked around for a little more inspiration.

When the idea hit, it seemed like the only way to go. I told my girlfriend to lie face down on the bench, with her legs positioned so that I could tie each ankle to the pulldown bar. That meant she was in what that noble pulp writer F. E. Campbell would call a strappado position. Another tie just behind her knees locked off her legs so that they were basically fixed and immovable.

I quickly tied her elbows and her wrists together, then pulled the wrists back towards the pillar which supported the pulldown bar. It was a kind of hog tie that kept my girlfriend’s arms tightly pulled back, her breasts slightly off the bench, and her head inclined backwards.

It meant I could sit on the bench at the other end and her head would fall down onto my cock quite naturally. Before we moved to that phase however, I suggested to my girlfriend that she was incredibly ticklish.

As she was incredibly ticklish, it wasn’t hard to get her to agree to the suggestion. Next I suggested that her feet were incredibly vulnerable and exposed, that she could be tickled and she couldn’t do anything about it.

She was immediately fearful, and started wriggling her feet. But that was about all she could do—a little wriggling on the spot. The tie was a good one, tight and effective, and she had virtually no mobility, especially as she had my legs on either side of her head, holding it and her body in line with the bench.

As the tension built in her mind, I told her that she could feel a feather brushing the soles of her upturned feet. She immediately began to tense and to wriggle. Her feet and her toes twitched, more and more wildly as she felt the feather tickling between her toes. Her head began to thrash about, and she began to groan and moan, almost hysterical with laughter.

Before she could get too carried away, I told her that the feather was gone. She couldn’t feel it any more. She immediately subsided with relief. I tried this a couple of times—remember my girlfriend hated being tickled and always threatened to kill me if I ever did it to her—and now here I was tickling her, wherever I liked—on her feet, in her ribs—and here she was unable to stop me. The power of trance.

Now it was on to the next part of the experiment. I put my cock in her mouth, and told her that if she sucked on it hard, she wouldn’t feel any tickling. But if she didn’t suck hard, she’d feel the feather coming back.

I told her the feather was coming back, and she started to suck and lick my cock in a way that was desperate and fiendish and very, very good. I urged her on, said she couldn’t feel the feather while she sucked like this. She kept sucking, but then she began to run out of steam. I told her she could feel the feather, and she began sucking my cock as if her life depended on it. Down and up she went, something not easy to do in her position, and I helped her by ramming her hard down on my cock, telling her the feather was hovering, and then telling her that the feather was touching her feet, sending her into a sucking frenzy and me into a coming frenzy that brought me off into her mouth.

She kept sucking and sucking, and I shuddered and shivered, and I barely had enough sense and energy to tell her that the feather was gone, and she didn’t have to suck any more, and immediately she slowed up and I could take my cock out of her mouth and step back.

It’d been some kind of come, and it confirmed for me the joys of suggestion. My girlfriend’s never sucked me before or since with this kind of tickle frenzied passion, and it resulted in a huge come. As a precaution, I told her to forget everything—if my girlfriend remembered I’d been tickling her, my life wouldn’t have been worth living. No way I wanted her to carry out the threat to kill me for what had turned into a mega tickle session, so it seemed better to suggest she wouldn’t remember what had gone down.

For once I didn’t have the energy for a photo or two for the scrap book—instead I undid her bindings and staggered off to bed for a rest, with her following a little way behind me.

When we got into bed, she noticed I seemed a little tired out and asked me if anything was the matter. I asked her if she remembered what she’d just been doing to me, and she shook her head ... it was all a blank. It was just what I wanted her to say ... before I went off into a sucked dry sleep ...

9. The Hanging Space

The space between the lounge room and the dining room was another area I hadn’t thought much about before we began our regular sessions.

But you might better understand what followed if you know the way two rooms up, two rooms down are built, in terraces in the English style. The bigger ones often have folding doors which divide one area of the living room from the dining room (with the kitchen attached behind the dining room). Our house had a nice set of cedar folding doors which, when folded back, left a space that was probably about eight foot high by about ten foot wide.

Now if you do the calculations, this is more than enough room to do a full stretch on a person without touching the sides, so to speak. What intrigued me was that I really only needed just five anchor points for suspensions that I thought I’d never have been able to do in what was essentially an old fashioned house without many hanging points.

A large wooden frame supported the folding doors, with one door on the left and two others swinging together on the right. When they were folded back, the frame was completely accessible, and it was a simple matter to screw four almost invisible circular hooks at the top and bottom of each side of the frame. The fifth I put in the centre of the wood at the top of the frame, almost hidden by being placed on top of it. All five could be easily removed with barely a visible mark.

I still preferred the oral induction method—once you’ve got a good tradition set up, you should stick to it, but this time I felt the need to widen it and set the mood later. So I had in her in a mild trance, then set her to sucking a vibrator, counting down, then sucking until she was really deep, then switching it on, then off, so that she got deeper and deeper.

Then I told her to take off her clothes fully and stand in the middle of the space—already I could see it was just the kind of free hanging space the wardrobes had almost provided. The difference here was that I had plenty of space in front of her and behind her and all around her and so I could approach her any way I liked once she was in position.

So that was the next step—get her tied off into the first position. As usual, she was just standing, staring off into space with a kind of goofy, dazed look on her face.

I’d already put the toys in the lounge room, ready for the session. I just had to get one of the dining chairs to stand on. To make it easy on her, I made her put socks on her hands, covering her wrists, and on her ankles, so that the straps wouldn’t dig in too tight. Then I strapped them up and ran ropes through the eyelets.

While my girlfriend stood in the middle, I told her to raise her hands, then stood on the chair and stretched the ropes up through the hooks. By using a loop, I could tug her arms up really stiff and tight before looping the rope again to lock it off. I did this a couple of times, and I had her fully stretched, but still standing on her feet. Next I stretched her legs out, to the point where she could just keep standing in a comfortable way. That put more pressure on her arms, because as she stretched her legs, she’d dropped a little in height.

Next I did something I’d never done before, and that was strap a gag into her mouth. It wasn’t a ball gag—I’d tried on one of those in the store, and while they look great, they need a big mouth and they don’t do much about keeping someone quiet. Instead this was a gag with a three inch plug that jutted into the mouth and kept the tongue depressed, a bit like a tongue in action.

Of course I immediately suggested to my girlfriend that the gag was actually a cock inside her mouth, and sure enough she began to suck on it. I suggested that the cock was a big one, and that she wanted to cry out and tell me that the cock was too big, and she did cry out, but all I could hear was a delicious low key kind of mmphing of the kind favoured by all DiD enthusiasts. It was the best kind of test I could imagine, and I told her to keep crying out, but no matter how she struggled or strained, she couldn’t get anything other than some low moans past the gag and her lips into the open air. I couldn’t resist suggesting that I was tickling her hard ... just to watch her writhe and dance in the full suspension. I told her I was tickling her around the waist ... her most sensitive point ... and as I sat and watched, she put an explosive show of being tortured ... her cries held in by the gag.

Before she could get too excited or too stressed, I told her I’d stopped tickling. I told her I was going to take the cock out of her mouth, undid the gag, and watched as she relaxed as best she could in the ropes.

While she was taking a spell, I seized the moment to strap the vibrator into her cunt, by running a belt around her waist, then running ties from it, down under her crutch so that the vibrator was held all the way inside her cunt. It was a simple matter to turn it on, suggest she was extremely sensitive, and watch her writhe her way to a climax.

As she got more and more excited, she started to groan and moan again, so I told her I’d have to keep her quiet by sticking the cock back inside her mouth. I told her that as soon as I did that, she’d start sucking on it, and as soon as she started sucking, she’d feel like coming.

It happened almost immediately. I put the gag back into her mouth, and tied it off behind, and as I did it, she started sucking and I could sense she was building to a climax. I just had time to pick up the camera and take some digital photos as she climaxed, vibrator firmly up her, fully gagged, and in a full stretch position that dragged her breasts and nipples up into the air. When I ran the photos into the computer later, they seemed to make the best series of any session—you could almost see her coming in one of them, her nipples erect and her mouth chomping down firmly on the cock gag.

It was all too much for me, and once she came, I didn’t waste any more time. I dragged her arms down, tied them together and quickly lifted them up to the hook in the middle of the doorway, forcing her down. This time her head came right down to cock level, and I had no trouble sinking deep into her mouth, just like the cock gag before me.

Call me weak, call me deviant, but there was something else that was extremely attractive about this position. Unlike the wardrobes, I had full access to her bumhole, and now I had a nicely moistened cock. What to do? It didn’t take long to answer the question—I moved around behind her and impaled her from the rear.

I know, I know this was meant to be an oral session, but I’d already tasted her bumhole, and it offered an even tighter grip than her mouth, and here it was jutting out into the air, at just the right height. I grabbed her by the breasts hard, told her she’d feel only pleasure, not pain, and then I shoved it in, felt her sphinctre muscle grip me, and within seconds I was coming deep into her anus as I used her breasts to drag her back hard against my body.

There was something about the feel of her breasts, the way that they hung down and became soft and pulpy that was a total turn on, and as I grabbed and mauled them—in a way she’d never let me do if she’d not been in a trance—that was the reason I came so quickly.

What’s more, it’d felt so good, that I just left her hanging there for a moment, so I could take a photo of her rear. And sure enough, slowly, but visibly, some of my come started to trickle out of her backside, and that’s when I took a series of shots capturing the moment.

It was enough already, and I quickly let her down, then made her undo the straps and tidy up the ropes while I sat on the sofa and watched. There was no way I could have done anything, I was so far gone ... once she’d put everything away, I brought her out of the trance, and was amazed how she could just seem to forget everything, which given what I’d just done to her breasts and her bumhole and her body, by fucking and groping and tickling, was just as well ...

10. The Kitchen Table

I was starting to run out of spaces, but there was one more that just had to be made to work, to turn out a decalogue of sessions. Some of the rooms were trickier than others, and the kitchen was maybe the trickiest of all. It didn’t have many opportunities. There was a fridge, but it had been made in the no handles modern style. There was a stove with no real angle of attack, though I could have laid her on it and taken her from behind. There was a sink where I could have done the same, but it seemed pretty straightforward, a bit too simple for my taste, and a few benches which offered pretty much the same angle of attack.

All that was left was the table, and again it didn’t really give me much in the way of inspiration. I had to find some kind of wrinkle.

I started the session with a finger click, but this time I substituted a carrot for the induction, keeping the kitchen theme going, taking her down into a deep trance by having her suck on the carrot. It was curiously erotic watching her slide the carrot in and out—it made me remember the great Henry Miller’s story of a fuck with a carrot (his ‘Sexus’ still has one of the best written descriptions of a rape you’ll find floating around). Maybe it wasn’t up to the finger routine, but she really got into the carrot, working it over pretty well, twisting and turning her mouth and her tongue all over it, and then taking the carrot deep into her throat. It seemed like it was good practise, because she didn’t gag at all.

After a little while, it seemed natural to suggest she shift from the carrot to a banana ... peeled of course ... so that she could practise being really gentle and subtle with the banana, not letting her teeth do anything to bruise the flesh. Again more out of curiosity than anything, I told her the cock/banana would come in her mouth, and told her the semen would taste curiously of banana, and that as soon as it exploded in her mouth, she would have an insatiable desire to eat a banana, and once the cock/banana had come, she’d open her eyes and find a banana in her mouth, and she’d immediately devour it.

Well, as the suggestions went, so did the rest of the experiment. She gave the cock/banana a good sucking and it came in my girlfriend’s mouth (when I asked her to remember a little later what had happened, she told me the come tasted of banana).

I told her to open her eyes, and she found a banana in her mouth. She immediately ate it, saying it was great, the taste of semen and the taste of banana all in one. (If you want a simple test of hypnosis, one of the simplest and best is the old ‘taste a lemon and suggest it tastes of sweet, suckable honey’, or any other favourite sweet thing. If the subject hoes into the lemon like it was chocolate, you’re on a good thing—unless of course they usually think of lemon as a sweet thing!)

But all this was just a three rounder before the main event. I told my girlfriend to get undressed and while she was doing that, I spread a little plastic sheeting over the kitchen table. As I’ve mentioned before, there’s passion and then there’s useless mess, and a little planning in a session never hurt anyone.

Once my girlfriend was undressed, I told her to climb onto the kitchen table and lie face up on the plastic sheeting. She did this, though I made her take things slowly because one of the legs on the table was a little tricky and I didn’t want it to collapse under her. (It was a big table, big enough to seat six, or eight at a pinch, and it suited her body shape just fine).

Once she was on the table in position, I did the usual spread eagled routine, strapping her firmly arms and legs to the four corners of the table.

Next I got out some oil and began to rub it in all her nooks and crevices, sending my fingers up her cunt and her bum, rubbing the oil deep into her holes, so that she was pretty quickly a greasy, quivering heap of flesh. I spread a little raspberry jam on her nipples and breasts and started to give them a good suck, so that soon her nipples were jutting hard into the air. While I squeezed and pinched them—something I could only do while she was under—I told her she was like a piece of wobbly jelly, floating in a sea of oil, ready to come at the slightest touch. A quick tweak of her nipples and her clitoris, and she writhed and spasmed and came on the now oily plastic.

That was okay for her, but now it was my turn. Trouble was, there didn’t seem any way I could get access to her mouth, without either forcing her neck way down against the table, or standing on a chair and kneeling over her. After a couple of experimental danglings of my cock above her mouth, I gave up. The good thing about hypnosis is the way time and things don’t matter—my girlfriend was lying on the table blissed out, ready to do whatever I wanted.

I undid the four anchor points, then made her roll over, before re-anchoring her to the table. It didn’t take long at all, and now her tits were out of the way, tucked down on the plastic, it was her bum that attracted my attention, as it stuck up in the air in a nice way, her legs dragged apart so that her crinkly, tight little bum hole was in full view. Immediately I saw it sticking up, I just had to oil up the carrot and slide it in as far as it would go. It made a good photo opportunity, her tight anus holding the carrot half way inside her. Once I had a couple of good photos, I locked the carrot into place by running one of my belts around her thighs, and up over the carrot, tightening the belt so that it was forced deep inside her. I know I’d done the carrot thing before, but this was a long, thick one, a well hung carrot, with a nice little kink half way down, and when you’re on a good thing, you should stick to it.

Next I told her that the carrot was giving her a fucking, that she could feel the carrot moving up and down inside her, and I’m sure—as part of the process whereby she could ‘imagine’ this happening, she started to slide up and down, ensuring the carrot moved a little inside her. It was enough to make her really horny, and she started to sigh and groan.

Seizing the moment, I went back around to her head, which I’d made sure dangled just a little off the edge of the table, giving me plenty of room to access her mouth. My cock was really hard—there was something about the hard fucking the carrot was giving her that I really liked—and I shoved my cock in her mouth, holding her head by the hair, and moving her up and down, up and down on my cock, while she gasped and wriggled under the impact of it and the carrot.

I barely had enough voice left in me to suggest the carrot was fucking her both ends, in the bum and in the mouth, and she had to suck the carrot hard, as if she worshipped it, and when the carrot came, it would be like carrot juice in her mouth, and she was to suck it down, devour it, lick her lips with relish. This made her suck my cock in a frenzy, and it didn’t take long for my hard carrot cock to come in her mouth.

When I recovered enough to ask her how the carrot juice had tasted, she licked her lips and said it was good, really tasty (she had a bit of a taste for California style diet, decaf and bottled water and fruit juices, and I could see a way for her to keep up this lifestyle choice and drink plenty of carrot juice over the next few months).

It’d been such a good come, I didn’t have much energy for anything else—there’s something about the angle, having her mouth come down on me, giving me direct access to her throat, and having a suggestion she won’t gag, that makes this kind of deep throat oral hypnosis the only way to go. So I undid the anchor points, sent her off for a shower, put the plastic in the washing, then joined her in the shower. One of the toughest areas in the house had turned into a good session, and now all I had to do was wake her up ... but then I started soaping up her cunt, and my cock began to rise ... and you can guess the rest. Usually I’m not into repeats, but when a session’s a turn on, sometimes I can manage seconds ...

Postscript

There were a couple of other things I tried, various sessions, some good, some not so good, some which didn’t work out. For example, I’ve got a leather chair which I’d always thought was worth a bondage routine. A bit like this kind of shape—~—but with a tilt at one end so that the legs fall towards the floor, and the back supports the upper body and head. The trouble with it was that it was just too wide to straddle, so the natural position—her sitting astride my cock as we rocked away in the chair—just didn’t quite work. I did give it a different go by having her sit upside down on it, so that her head was down around where feet would normally be, and from there I could thrust into her mouth and do deep throat. It worked well enough, but the chair slid around, so in the end I tied her hands behind her back and made her suck me off as I lazed in the leather lounger. That was a bit more conventional, but hey, sometimes straight’s the way to go.

I’d also tried any number of ways to make the stairs work for me—they were old fashioned, with plenty of railings and fixing points, but they never quite worked—certainly not as well as the hanging space between the lounge and the dining rooms.

The one thing I could never get enough of was the ‘click fingers’ trick of post hypnotic cuing was the way my girlfriend would react.

It was barely noticeable, but if she was sitting or standing, her head would suddenly go still, and she’d start staring at me, her eyes wide open and blank, an uncomprehending look on her face—as if she could see me, but couldn’t see me, all at once, or make sense of what she was seeing. It was a kind of over the horizon, far off look, and it was a complete turn on.

She’d begin to blink her eyes, but that was the only movement. Sometimes I’d tell her to close her eyes, which she’d do immediately and sometimes I’d tell her to move about while staying in the trance.

This was more interesting than just sending her off into an eyes closed trance—seeing her shift from awareness to full trance state with her eyes open, ready to move about or do anything I said or wanted.

This somnambulism was a never ending source of fascination—a practical useful way she could do things, having surrendered control to me absolutely.

That’s why when she came into a little money, and began to talk of doing up the cellar (basement to Americans) so we could use it for wine storage, my mind began to turn to other things ... I’d pretty well done the oral thing, or at least the sessions that exploited the natural advantages in the main part of the house. Time to turn to an area where there were exposed beams all over the place, and plenty of hanging and rack friendly space ... and maybe time to shift from the oral to a full on campaign to see how hypnosis and bondage could be turned to sessions involving mouth, bum, cunt and cock ... where the ties would be stringent and would make each hole available for fucking .... But that was to be the end of oral hypnosis and the beginning of holistic hypnosis ...