At the time, playing with her then-boyfriend, she had thought hypnosis sounded hot. She’d let him hypnotise her so that when he said a trigger word, she would be bound to follow his instructions, whatever they were.
When they’d broken up, though, he’d refused to remove the suggestion, and instead published her trigger publicly on the internet.
She discovered this at Halloween. She was attending a large party, dressed as a princess, when a man in a harlequin mask and tuxedo stopped her.
“Jaclyn?” he asked. She said yes.
“White pineapple,” he said, and she felt herself go limp, not in control of herself.
“I’m now in control of you,” he told her, and she knew it was true. “But I don’t want you to feel that what’s going to happen to you is not under your control. I want to give you choices. For example, you have a choice right now. You can go and sit in the corner over there, where it’s slightly less public, and take off your top, of your own free will, or I can tell you to start loudly shouting ‘Look at me, I’m a dirty slut.’”
She trembled, and then quickly scooted to the corner and sat. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, she pulled off her top and sat there with her tits exposed. She wished she’d worn a bra. She let her hands cover her breasts, figuring she hadn’t been told not to.
“Don’t worry, Jacylyn,” her tormentor said. “No one’s looking—yet. I’m sure you don’t want all your friends to see you being a whore, do you?”
Unable to trust herself to speak, she just shook her head.
“Next, you can choose to take your hands away from your tits and ask me to take a picture of you—or I’ll tell you to remove your skirt and spread your legs.”
She mewled unhappily, but couldn’t bring herself to ask this man to photograph her tits, so a moment later he did as he threatened, and she found herself unable to stop herself removing her skirt to reveal her pretty panties, and then spreading her legs wide.
“Good girl,” he said. “Now ask to suck my cock, or else I’ll order you to remove those panties and spread your cunt with your fingers until further order.”
Again, she couldn’t bring herself to beg, so soon she found herself sliding her panties down her legs and using both hands to spread her pussy for his inspection. She was completely nude, and her friends were only metres away. She couldn’t bring herself to see if they were looking. Her face was red with humiliation.
“Good girl,” he said again. “Now, crawl into the centre of the party on all fours, naked like this, and show everyone your spread cunt... or else I’ll tell you to masturbate without letting yourself cum for the next hour, no matter what happens.”
She squealed, and then said quietly, “Please, no. Please, just tell me to masturbate.”
“There’s a good slut,” he said. “Masturbate for the next hour. Don’t let yourself cum. Don’t stop no matter what is happening.”
She felt her fingers started to work her fuckhole. She wanted to cry. She wished her pussy wasn’t so wet.
“Last choice, Jaclyn,” her tormentor said. “I think this little display of yours is pretty. You can choose which order I give you—to put on this display for each of your father, brother, and employer, while begging them to fuck you—or to put on this display at every social event you attend in the next three years.”
“No, no,” she begged. She couldn’t think straight. Her cunt was wet. She was being a whore right among her closest friends. She was masturbating in public. “No...”
“What’s that, bitch? You don’t want to choose?” the masked man asked.
“No...” she whimpered. She wanted to cum already, and she had to keep doing this for an hour?
“If you don’t choose, then I order you to do both. Show this to your daddy and your brother and your boss, and then also at every social occasion you attend.”
“No!” she squealed—and this time it was loud enough that people heard her. She heard the footsteps of approaching partygoers. She tried to stop masturbating and cover her body, but she couldn’t.
The masked man chuckled. “Have a nice life, bitch,” he spat, and then walked away, just as her friends began to see what she was doing over in the corner and gasp in disgust...
After the party, she had felt like she could never show her face in public again. A stranger had used the trigger phrase that her ex-boyfriend had hypnotised her with to make her his obedient puppet—and then made her strip and masturbate amongst dozens of her friends.
Well, not made her, exactly...
He had given her choices—awful choices—and stripping and masturbating was what she had chosen to do. And then, on his final choice, she had refused to choose—so he had made her do both options: firstly, to repeat her masturbation performance at any social gathering she attended, forever; and secondly, to repeat it for her father, brother and employer.
As terrible as that was, she had at least hoped that the stranger would leave her alone now—but the next day, a package had arrived on her doorstep, containing a wireless audio earpiece, with instructions to insert it, and as soon as she had done so—trembling, afraid to disobey—she had heard the stranger’s deep, commanding voice in her ear, speaking her trigger phrase—“White Pineapple”—and she had gone limp and obedient.
Now it was evening, and she was arriving at her father’s house, as she had been commanded to. She had rung earlier in the day and invited herself over. Her father lived alone—her parents had divorced many years ago—so it would just be the two of them for dinner.
“We’re going to play the game of choices again, Jaclyn,” the stranger had said, after using her trigger phrase. “You liked the game of choices, didn’t you?”
“No,” she said, honestly. He could hear her—the package had also contained a tiny, nearly invisible patch, to stick to her throat, containing a wireless microphone that could pick up her subvocals.
The stranger laughed. “That’s my girl,” he told her. “Now, you’re going to go visit your daddy tonight, so you can obey my command from last night. And your first choice is going to be what to wear. Either you can wear your princess costume from last night, with no underwear—OR you can go out and buy kitten ears, a cat collar with a nametag that says ‘Fuck-kitten’, and a cat-tail butt-plug, and wear them with a short skirt and tight shirt.”
It was an easy choice. The princess costume wasn’t so bad—a strange thing to see her father in, for certain, but not so bad as wearing a butt-plug and collar. The only downside was that it reminded her of last night, and of what she had done—and what she was going to do.
Was she really going to strip and masturbate in front of her father? She knew she was—the urge to obey was overwhelming. But how would he react? She was his daughter—surely it would be embarrassing, but safe?
Her next choice came as she parked her car outside her father’s house. “Time to choose, slut,” said the stranger. “Masturbate to the edge of orgasm before you go into your father’s house... or put your mobile phone in your cunt and leave it there till you’re told to remove it.”
“Please, don’t make me do this,” begged Jaclyn quietly. “He’s my father.” And then, quickly, remembering what had happened last time she failed to choose, she added, “I’ll masturbate.” She lifted her dress, spread her legs in the car seat, and began to rub her pussy. She wasn’t sure her mobile phone would fit up her cunt, and she could imagine the humiliation of a ringing noise coming from her pussy in the middle of dinner...
It was night-time, and dark on the street. She had parked on the curb—no one was likely to see what she was doing. Nevertheless, she hurried, trying to find the edge of orgasm before she was spotted. Unfortunately, her haste just made it harder. Her cunt needed foreplay, and she ended up taking longer than she needed to, having to slow down and tease herself before she could find her rhythm.
She had been sitting there, toying with her pussy, for about 10 minutes, when the door of her father’s house opened, and her father emerged. “Jaclyn?” he called. “Is that you, honey? Come in.”
Jaclyn moaned in frustration. She couldn’t come into the house until she was on the edge of orgasm. She violently fingerfucked herself, silently praying her father wouldn’t come closer.
But he did. He walked over to the car. “Jaclyn?” he asked again.
“Just a minute, daddy!” she called in a shaky voice, desperately flicking her clitoris. Her hand was soaked with cunt juices. Her inner thighs were smeared with them.
“Jaclyn?” he said, and leant down to look through the window.
The sudden fear of being seen was what Jaclyn needed. She felt the nearness of orgasm—she desperately wanted to reach it, even knowing that her father would see it, would see her shuddering and twitching in the car, her cunt bare—and just like that, she was able to pull her hand away, straighten her dress, and bounce out of the car before her father could inspect her.
“Choice,” said the voice in her ear. “Kiss him on the lips, or grab his crotch as you hug him.”
She had been moving towards her father across the grass of the lawn as the voice spoke; she almost stumbled as she heard the choice. She had only seconds to decide.
Her father stepped towards her. She threw her arms around him, and kissed him on the lips like a lover.
He stiffened with shock; but something in his pants stiffened, too. She gave him a full and passionate kiss, then pulled back. “Hello, daddy,” she said, shyly.
She pictured what he could see—his daughter, in a sexy Halloween costume, face flushed, nipples perky, smelling like sex. She blushed.
“Hello, Jaclyn,” he said. “Why don’t you come inside?”
He led her indoors. A roast dinner was cooking; the table was set. “You’re dressed up tonight,” he commented.
“Oh, it was my Halloween dress,” she said. “I thought it was silly to only wear it one night a year, and it needed a second outing.”
“You look pretty, honey,” he told her. “Would you like a drink?”
The stranger spoke in her ear. “Tell him you’d like a bottle of beer, bitch,” it growled. “Or else tell him that you want to drink his cum.”
She blushed. “A bottle of beer, please?” she asked.
He went into the kitchen, and came out with the bottle. She took it gratefully, but then the voice spoke again.
“Drink it all immediately, and then fuck yourself with the bottle,” it said. “Or else spill it on your dress and then take the dress off and stay nude the rest of the night.”
She moaned unhappily. Her father looked at her. “Is something the matter, honey?”
She took a deep breath, and then tipped the beer over her cleavage. The golden liquid ran over her tits, soaking her dress, puddling on the floor. “Oh God, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “My dress is ruined!”
Her father was looking at the puddle on the floor. “Let me get a towel,” he said, and ran out of the room. While he was gone, Jaclyn took a deep, shaky breath, and then pulled off her dress. She was nude now, except for high heels and her princess tiara.
When her father returned, he stopped, shocked. “Jaclyn...” he said.
“My dress was all wet, daddy,” she said. “I had to take it off. It’s okay, I’m fine like this.”
He offered her the towel. “You can wrap yourself in this, and I’ll find a shirt.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s okay, I’ll just stay like this, really.” She was blushing bright red. Her nipples were still perky from the masturbation. He wondered if he could see the wetness on her thighs. She hoped he would think it was the beer.
“Well, okay,” her father said doubtfully. “If you’re sure. I’ll go get the dinner.”
He went back to the kitchen.
“Please,” Jaclyn begged quietly with the stranger. “Please. I can’t do this.”
“I bet you’ve been cockteasing your father all your life, bitch,” growled the voice. “I bet this is just what you deserve.”
“Please... no...” she said.
“When you sit down for dinner, you have a choice of conversation topics. You can ask him which he thinks is sexier—your pussy or your tits, and why. Or you can tell him your three most humiliating sexual fantasies.”
But when her father returned, he took over the conversation. He served up the roast beef, and then tried to steadfastly avoid looking at her bare tits as they started to eat, instead talking about the ins and outs of his day at the office.
“Daddy...” she tried, three times, but he talked over her, as if afraid of what she might say.
Finally the voice growled in her ear. “Too slow,” it said. “You’ll do both. And if you don’t get him to answer, you’ll regret it.”
“Daddy, which do you think is sexier: my tits or my cunt?” she said loudly, interrupting her father. “And why?”
He blushed. “Jaclyn, that’s not a proper question for your father.”
“I really need you to tell me, daddy,” she said. “And, if you don’t, I’ll—I’ll hurt myself.” She tried to look like she meant it.
He paused, and really looked at her tits for the first time. “I don’t think I’ve properly seen your cunt, honey,” he said.
Blushing, she stood, and spread her legs, and used her fingers to spread her pussy lips. This was part of the show she had to give her father anyway.
He stared at her for a long minute, and she felt herself getting wetter and wetter. Why was she so turned on by exposure and humiliation? This was her father—what kind of slut was she?
Finally, he spoke. “I think your cunt is sexier, honey. You have wonderful breasts, but the way you dress, you kind of show them off to everybody. But you conceal your pussy, and that makes it even more desirable to violate.”
She shuddered at that word, “violate”. But she had more things to say.
“I have a fantasy, daddy,” she said, “where a man I don’t even know just shoves me down on my knees, and sticks his cock in my mouth, and fucks my face without my consent, and then finally pulls out and cums on my tits and just leaves me there like I don’t even matter.” She felt her breathing becoming quicker as she confided in her father.
“And I have another fantasy where I’m abducted and taken to a country where I don’t speak the language to be a sex slave, and they don’t even know my name so they call me Fuckdoll, and they keep me naked in a dog cage except when someone wants to fuck me.”
She wanted to masturbate. She wanted to masturbate in front of her father. She resisted the urge. “And also I have a fantasy where I’m on a crowded bus, full of men, all pressed up against me, and then someone starts pulling off my skirt, and my panties, and I can’t even see who it is, and I’m scared to make a noise in case someone sees what’s happening, and then slowly they pull of all my clothes until I’m naked, and I can feel hands on my tits and between my legs and fingers probing my anus, and then cocks pushing into my cunt, and my ass, and I can’t see who it is, and they won’t let me get off, and I stay on the bus for hours as dozens of strangers fuck me in public and I can’t do anything about it.”
Her father was still seated, so she couldn’t see his lap, but his face was flushed too. “Those are... quite some fantasies, Jaclyn.”
From there the voice took over.
“Pour his drink in his lap, and then lick him clean,” said the voice. “Or else sit in his lap, and wiggle your ass against his cock as you talk to him.”
So, blushing, she sat nude in her daddy’s lap and wiggled her ass as she talked. She could feel his cock, rock hard, between her butt cheeks. She could feel his breath on her neck.
“Tell him you’ve fantasised about fucking your father,” the voice said, “or else tell him that you orgasm from being raped.” She couldn’t bear to practically invite her father to fuck her, so she told him that she thought being raped would make her cum—still wiggling her ass against his cock. And was it even a lie? She wasn’t sure.
“Please,” she whispered to the stranger. “Please. Let me go home.”
“All right,” said the voice. “You’ve been a good slut. You may ask your father, once, and once only, not to rape you.”
She gasped with relief. For all the slutty show she’d put on, being able to ask directly would defuse this. Then her father would know that she didn’t want this...
“And then,” continued the voice, “either kiss him on the lips, with tongue, while putting his hand on your tits and encouraging him to squeeze, OR drop to your knees, take out his cock, and sucking it until he cums in your mouth.”
She squealed in horror, causing her father to look at her strangely.
“If you suck his cock,” said the voice. “Maybe he’ll be satisfied with a blowjob. But you’ll know you chose to suck his cock. Whereas if you kiss him, maybe that will be the end of it. Either way, I promise I won’t give you any more choices tonight until after the next time you orgasm.”
She made an unhappy noise—still wiggling her ass against her daddy’s cock. It was so hard now—and was that a wet spot she was feeling through his pants? Or was it just her own cunt juices soaking his pants? She had to decide, or she’d be made to do—suck her daddy’s cock, or just make out with him a little?
Put like that, it was easy. She turned around on his lap, so she was straddling him, her groin against his crotch. She looked him in the eyes, and said,“Please, daddy, please don’t rape me.” She tried to make it as meaningful and earnest as she could. Then she leaned forward and kissed her surprised father on the lips. This time, he kissed back, and she felt his tongue enter her mouth. She moaned, and lifted his hand to her left tit. He squeezed it all by himself. It felt good.
Then he squeezed again, harder. She tried to pull away, but he had his other arm around her naked back.
“Say it again,” he said, staring at her, eyes full of lust. “Say you don’t want to be raped, and we’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”
Her eyes filled with alarm. She tried to say the words—“Yes, please don’t rape me”—but only silence came out.
Once, and once only, the voice had said. She had already asked once. Her mouth was open, but no sound emerged.
“That’s what I thought,” her father said, and then he was lifting her bodily, carrying her naked form away from the table, to the bedroom, where he flung her on the master bed—the same bed where he had conceived her—and spread her legs open. She tried to close them, but his pants were down, and his cock was out, and then he was leaning forward, on top of her, and she felt her own father’s cock penetrate her sopping wet pussy.
She couldn’t help it. She orgasmed.
And as her father fucked her, the voice returned, with more choices.
“Tell him that you like being called ‘bitch’, OR that you like it when he slaps you.”
“Tell him that you like being spat on, OR that you want him to choke you as he fucks you.”
And then afterwards, as she lay there, her daddy’s cum leaking from her pussy...
“Clean his cock off with your mouth and don’t stop sucking till he tells you OR use your hands to transfer all his cum from your pussy to your mouth.”
“Tell him you want to do this again every week, and you’re going to stop taking birth control to make it hotter, OR tell him that you’re a slut and you want him to whip you with a belt on the tits and pussy every week, and then rape you if he feels the urge...”