User blogs

Resistance

This is going to be hard for you to do.

So much so your gonna give up as soon as you begin.

I would like you to think of something very pleasant and erotic.

Now thinking of that something, your gonna feel tingling sensation. Dont worry its perfectly natural for that to occur.

Now dont worry about the tingling and pleasant sensations. Think about that erotic and pleasant something. Perhaps it is of a woman or what's she wearing or maybe nothing but just her beauty. Think deeply of her. Her body her curves her smile her eyes her face. Her hair her legs her breasts her butt her beautiful privates.

Keep thinking hard and deeply of this or what you want of her.

Now your problay feeling intense tingling and sensations occurring. Its perfectly normal and good.

Now your problay wondering what do you mean by resistance. Well your going to keep thinking of that pleasant and erotic image growing deeply and stronger in your mind. As you try to resist the urge of easing your pleasures now growing and intenstfling if you can resist the urge to not ease your desires of thinking of something very pleasant and erotic then you might win. But the truth is you dont want to win. You want to lose and give up. The resistance is your choice to do as you will. Give in or fight it.

I let you keep thinking long and hard about that as you picture that pleasant and erotic image in your mind.

Do you have resistance?

Do you want resistance?

Do you need resistance?

Do you know your resistance?

Give in or fight it

Give in or fight it

Give in

Or

Fight it

How strong is your

Resistances.

The two naked men, hands on their erect penises, turned to the man walking over to them, who was unbuckling the belt over his tight black jeans as he spoke.

"What do you mean?" the dark-haired one said. "It has to go from the base, right? Right *here*..." He gestured with the ruler in his other hand, then seated it firmly against the base of his cock, on top of it, so that his shaft curved down a little and away from the ruler, then back up to touch it a little further along.

"Well, yes," said the newcomer, his own cock out now. He stroked his shaft as he talked, his member gradually stiffening. "But there's this curvature, right?" He gestured with his free hand, marking out the length of the dark-haired man's erection with his hand but not quite touching it. "That makes the numbers come out looking shorter than it actually is. I measure using a sewing tape measure, so I can line the tape up along the shaft, taking the curve into account. Then you can also measure the circumference, which some people think is more important anyway." Fully hard now, he demonstrated with a tape measure drawn from his pocket, laying it loosely on top of his rod.

"Yeah, I think it's hard to keep the tape against your shaft, though," said the third man, who hadn't spoken yet. "That's why when I measure for actual inches, I hold it in place with cock rings. It looks really stylish that way, too." From a table nearby he picked up a series of black rubber rings and another tape measure, laid the tape along his own dick, and started slipping the rings on top of it to hold it there. The rings slowly tapered in size slightly, starting with the widest at the base.

A man frozen in the doorway across the room turned to a woman sitting casually in a chair in the corner, smirking. "Are they... having a dick-size contest *about how to measure the size of their dicks*?"

"Yes," the woman said happily.

"Okay... I *know* this is your fault somehow."

"I have no idea what you mean," the woman grinned.

He rolled his eyes. "Well, all three of those guys are usually the hettest of domly-doms, and would normally never go near each other's dicks. Don't get me wrong-- they'd never let *me* near their dicks either, and they're all pretty hot so I'm totally enjoying the show. Kudos! But you *are* the only hypnotist at this party."

She turned towards him, still grinning from ear to ear. "Young man! Are you suggesting that I might have *done* something to them? Why, that would be completely unethical. And anyway, you can't use hypnosis to make someone do something they don't want to do."

"Uh huh."

They both turned back to watch the scene. All three men were now alternating stroking their cocks and holding them against each other, gesturing animatedly.

A few moments went by.

"I might have had a conversation with them about how to think about the problem of penis size measurement."

"Uh huh."

"They seemed very amenable to thinking how I suggested."

"*Really*."

Another pause.

"You want to go over there and be part of that, don't you?" she said tolerantly.

He looked down, sheepish.

"Go on, then. I have a feeling they'll be amenable to that, too."

He looked at her in surprise.

"A very *strong* feeling." She winked.

He scampered across the room, unbuckling his pants as he went.

The two other people sitting at her table blinked, as if surprised to hear her speak, and stopped their conversation to turn and look at her.

The woman smiled.  "Glad to see you're back with us.  But no, who said anything about kidnapping?  Aren't you here by  choice?"

"No!" she said firmly.  She looked around.

She hadn't until that moment really taken in where she was; but now that she was looking, it seemed to be some sort of seedy strip club.  There were other customers distributed throughout the room, but none very close to the tiny table next to the stage where the three of them sat.  Up on stage, a voluptuous woman with eyes half-closed, a dreamy look on her face, was grinding her hips absentmindedly to the slinky music, while holding her ample breasts to her chest with one arm and unclasping her bra with the other.  The only other things she was wearing were matching panties, earrings, and a slim, pretty charm bracelet.

She definitely did not want to be here.  Ugh.  "How the Hell did I even get here?  No, I do not want to be here."

"Then what's stopping you from walking out?" the woman asked, with another smile.  Her smile had an edge to it, as if she were hiding some secret.  For that matter, the man's expression looked eerily similar.

She considered.  Nothing was stopping her from getting up and walking out.  She was fully dressed and still wearing her coat; she could feel her wallet and cell phone in the coat pockets.  Her two... abductors, or whatever they were, were not threatening her or looking aggressive in any way; both sat back in their chairs with looks of smug, condescending confidence.  The exit door was clearly labeled on the far side of the room; other than threading between a few empty tables, nothing was between her and the door.  Nobody else in the strip club seemed to be even looking their way.

That wasn't quite true.  As she was thinking, a waitress came up behind her.  "Can I get you anything?" she asked the table at large.

"I'll have a bourbon on the rocks," the woman said.  "Makers is fine."

"I'll have a vodka martini," the man said with a smirk.  "And she'll have a Deep and Dreamless Sleep."

---

"Why would you even kidnap someone and take them to a strip club?" she asked indignantly.

The woman smiled at her.  "Welcome back," she said indulgently.

"I'm serious!" she said.  A wave of her hand took in the whole of the dimly lit dive.  On stage, another young woman with straight honey-blonde hair a little longer than a pageboy cut was dreamily bumping and grinding while slowly leaving her clothes in a pile.  Her shirt and bra were off, but she was still wearing a miniskirt and stockings.  And another slim silver charm bracelet.

"I thought you wanted to be here, since you've stayed so far," the woman said.

She looked towards the exit.  Her eyes didn't seem to find the sign right away, but she knew it was over just past the bar.  There were only a few tables between her and there, not really very much in the way.  She could just get up and walk out.

In a moment, she'd do exactly that.  She was fully dressed and still wearing her coat, and she still had her wallet and phone.  Nothing was stopping her.

She looked towards the stage.  The young performer's eyes were fluttering as if they were trying to close, or trying to open, as she wriggled out of her miniskirt and dropped it on the raised floor beside the stripper pole.

She was actually quite pretty.  But there was no reason to stay and watch this. "This is definitely not my scene," she said.

The other two at the table laughed at that.  "Oh, I think this is exactly and entirely, your scene," the woman said.

"And do you know what happens next in your scene?" the man said.

---

"Why did you even bring me here?"

The woman put down her finished drink.  "Hey, look who's back with us."

"Oh, hi again!" said the man, gesturing with his own nearly-empty martini glass.  "You're really missing most of the show."  He balled up some bills and tossed them into the pile of clothing next to the woman on stage, a petite brunette who had just gotten down to just her flowery panties and another slim silver charm bracelet.  She was bent over, showing the audience her ass.  She didn't react to the money landing in her shirt.

"I'm serious!"  She looked around.  She didn't see the exit sign and couldn't quite remember which direction it should be in, but she was still seriously thinking about walking out.  She should just get up and do it.

"I'm not sure what you mean," said the woman.  "Do you remember us bringing you here?"  She turned to the man.  "Do you remember bringing her here?"

The man shrugged.

"No, I-- you drugged me or something, I don't remember, but I wouldn't come here on my own!"

"What's stopping you from leaving?" the woman asked.

"I... nothing, I don't know!  But I keep not doing it!"

"Why do you think that is?" The woman was smiling that infuriating smile again.

"You... did something to me!"

"Who, me?" smiled the woman.  "Us?"  The man smiled as well.

"Yes, you!"

The woman smirked more, if possible.  "How about this.  When you think about getting up and leaving, just standing up right now and walking out, is there some other feeling that stops you?  And if so, where is that feeling located?"

She thought hard about it.  Imagined standing up, and walking out... somewhere. For now just standing up.  Her legs sliding a little further under the chair to be directly under her, then straightening, her hands pushing the chair back...

She felt an almost physical tug on her right wrist.  Not looking yet, she experimented, thinking about different variations of standing up and walking away.

A tug on her right wrist, every time.  Like she was chained in place.

She looked down.  There around her wrist was a slim, silver charm bracelet.  The single charm hanging off of it looked like a tiny silver pocket watch.

"Oh," she said, staring at it.  Something about the sight made the world seem... quiet.  Distant.  Unimportant.  Faded.

Before she realized it, her arm had begun to lift.  Raising up in the air, responding to a tug she could *feel*, as if she were manacled to the ceiling and the chain was being drawn back, pulled on, lifting her wrist upwards.  It was at eye level, and her eyes were irresistibly fixated on that bracelet, that tiny pocket watch charm.

The world slipped further away, and she scarcely noticed when the tug changed direction, pulling her up out of her seat and forward towards the stage.

Somewhere far away and completely unimportant, deserving no attention at all, a DJ said some words that she had no need to take any conscious note of.  "And let's welcome to the stage our last special guest from the local Hypnosis Club, Miss Mindless Abductee!  I'm sure that's her real name, folks-- you can just call her Mindless for short.  And here's some special music, just for her..."

The chords of "I Put A Spell On You" started, and she reached down and began pulling off her shirt.

"Oh my god!  Yes, right there right there just like that oHHHHHHHH!"  Meg dug her fingers into John's hair and held his head firmly against her crotch as her legs tensed around his ears and her back arched, throwing her head back into the bed.  A moment later she just as firmly pulled his head away a couple of inches, pulling his lips from her still-clenching-around-his-fingers pussy.

He grinned happily.  "You don't usually let me keep going that long," he commented.

Meg panted for a few moments, smiling dreamily, before answering.  "We're not usually keeping score, are we?  I want you to feel like you're doing well."

"Oh, shoot, that's right!" John said.  He carefully slipped his wet fingers out of her, drawing a shudder that ran the length of her whole body.  Absentmindedly wiping her juices on his bare chest, he stood and walked over to the whiteboard on the bedroom wall.

Two names were written at the top, "Meg" and "John."  Under "John" there were two tick marks.  He added another one.

There were none under "Meg."

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Meg asked with a smirk. "You're winning by a *lot* now."

John looked at the board, smiled, and nodded.  "Yeah, I am, aren't I?"

"I'll bet you think about that every time you think about licking my pussy.  Feels like winning."

He looked back at her naked body, still spread out on the bed, and licked his lips.

"It's making you hard just thinking about it, isn't it?"

John nodded, walking back towards the bed.  One hand reached down to stroke his cock, as he stared fixedly between her legs.

"I know you're just seconds away just from the smell of me on your face, the taste of me on your lips, the sight of me so… close…"

Pumping his hand faster, John wriggled towards her spread legs, but at the last moment she put out a foot to stop him.  A tiny whine escaped his throat.

"Look at me, John," Meg said in a commanding voice.  His eyes immediately snapped to her face, locked onto hers.

"Come for me."

He came immediately, yelling her name, semen squirting across the bed and the backs of her thighs.  Panting.  Still staring intently, spellbound, into her eyes.

Her smile grew wider, as his panting slowed.  "You'd better write that one down," she said.

She looked away, releasing his gaze.  After a moment more of panting, he nodded, and stood.

As he took one step away from the bed, she said "Look at me, John."  He turned, hand still on his cock.  "Come for me."

"Ohmigod," John said.  His hand was pumping furiously, and he staggered, yelling her name again.

"Good boy."

Half for effect, half still reeling, John crawled to the whiteboard, and slowly stood up to reach for the marker.

"Come for me, John."

Janet woke to darkness.

Then, a moment later, she saw the light.

Dizzying, spinning, colored lights made patterns in the air all around her.  Her eyes refused to tell her how far away the walls were; or even where her body ended and the lights began, as the bright swirls and lines played across her naked skin.

Naked.  She was naked.

There was a taste on her tongue that reminded her of something she was too sleepy to quite put together.  An experience she thought she'd once imagined…

Janet was staring at the lights.

*I need a cock in my mouth.*

From somewhere there was sound, like the throbbing bass of a distant techno nightclub was next-door-quiet but somehow inside her head; coming closer, or growing inside her.  It swirled and pulsed with the lights and seemed to fit them perfectly.  She wasn't sure whether the words were part of the music or something she had just thought on her own.  She wasn't sure how to tell.

She tilted her head, and the world spun.

*Drugged*, she thought.  *I've been drugged.*

A far-off feeling in the back of her head seemed to be telling her she should be worried about this, but in fact the experience was pleasant and rather exciting.

*I **like** being drugged.*

She didn't care whether those words had come from the music; they were obviously true.  Her eyes half-lidded as an incredibly delicious tremor ran through her body.  Timeless moments of pure pleasure passed before she could concentrate on anything else.

The fact that she had no idea how she'd gotten here just seemed to make it even better.

She didn't really care that her eyes didn't quite want to focus-- *I'm **so** helpless*-- but absently Janet noticed that one of her hands had drifted down between her legs, and the other was teasing one of her nipples.

She was very wet.

*Being helpless makes me wet.*

The beat throbbed and pulsed with the lights.  She could feel it inside her.  But she still didn't have a cock in her mouth.

Janet licked her lips.

And a bright white blinding light opened a hole in the side of the world.

Janet screwed her eyes shut, and the sounds and voices mixed with other voices, as hands grasped her arms, her shoulders, pulled her forward.  Soft fabric wrapped around her body, and there was mostly one voice speaking now, repeating in her ears, "It's all right, I've got you, you're safe, I'm here, it's all right…"

When she managed to open her eyes again, Janet was in a car.

She was strapped into the front passenger seat, with a blanket wrapped around her still-otherwise-naked body.

In the driver's seat was Janet's boyfriend Tim.

He was talking, a running stream of words that Janet couldn't really follow, couldn't do more than dip an occasional ear in for a moment.  She was still flying, feeling drugged, and it was a *good* feeling, as comfortable as the seat belt hugging her to the car seat, happy and pleasant, even if a little confusing.  She thought Tim was saying something about her being abducted, him being frantic, taking her home safe now, being so glad he'd found her.

The place she was before had been nice.  But she was glad Tim had found her, too.

*Tim has a nice cock.*

She giggled.  Janet thought she could remember herself saying this; thought she could remember someone saying it.  She imagined it in her own voice, and in the voice of the pulsing lights and music, inside her head.  She thought Tim would think it was funny that she was thinking about his cock while he was driving her home from… wherever she was before.  But now that she *was* thinking about it, it was impossible to stop.  She pictured Tim's naked cock, erect and ready, in her head.

She imagined the feel of it in her mouth.

*He could come in my mouth.*

Suddenly her mouth was watering.  So wet, just like her pussy.  Janet remembered not having wanted to have boys come in her mouth… some time, in the past, it was hard to focus on, she remembered talking with Tim about it.  But suddenly it was all she could think about.  Suddenly she wanted it.  Suddenly she *needed* it.

*I need him to come in my mouth.*

Janet swallowed, thinking about what it would feel to have him tighten and spurt into the back of her throat, the taste mingling with the aftertaste of the drugs-- *I **love** being drugged*-- how frantic she was to have that happen *right now*.  She registered that the car had stopped and Tim was coming around to help her out, to usher her through her apartment building's indoor garage and up to her floor, but as soon as he opened the passenger-side car door she was on him, on her knees on the cool concrete floor between the cars, unbuckling his pants before he could stop her.

She had his cock out and into her mouth and it was *perfect*, it was everything she had ever wanted, everything she'd been dreaming of.  She knew his cock so well, knew *just* how to make it spurt for her, but she'd never let him come in her mouth before and now it was like the one thing her entire life had been building up to, the culmination of all her greatest dreams.

*I'm dreaming about Tim coming in my mouth,* she thought, and she *was*, at the same time she was quickly working him up toward making it happen, at the same time she was remembering the voice in her ears, in her head, repeating those words until they were her thoughts, her beliefs, her deepest truths.

She remembered watching the lights, feeling the pull and sway of the drugs, hearing the words over and over and imagining just this, needing it, longing for it.

*I need him to come in my mouth,* she thought, and she knew that at any moment she was going to get the thing she wanted most in all the world.

She looked up and caught Tim's eye, saw him looking down at her with wonder, amazement… and triumph-- and just then, felt his tight balls clench and jerk, tasted the cum spurting between her lips, gasped and swallowed and kept her hands on his shaft and balls riding out the sensation for him, keeping him going as long as he could, eager for every precious drop she could coax out of him.

And finally, Janet closed her eyes and leaned back, still firmly holding the shaft of Tim's amazing cock, licked her lips and enjoyed how incredible and perfect everything about this experience was, finally.  It was everything the voice had told her it would be.  Everything she dreamed of.  Everything she loved.

Tim helped her quietly upstairs and into her apartment using his key, helping her into bed and whispering warm encouraging loving words to her the whole way.  Janet was still swimming in drugged somnolence, happy and dreamy and dazed, and didn't even notice when he paused out of sight for a moment to pull out his phone and send a large payment to an obscure address, with the note, "Worked perfectly!!! THX."

"And in a moment, on my signal, you're going to open your eyes, and you're going to practice knowing that I'm always right.  When I touch my nose, you're going to pretend to disagree with the very next thing I say.  And then, when I say 'It's all right,' you're going to tell yourself, out loud, that I'm always right.  And then you'll agree with me, and then you'll tell me that I'm right and you agree with me.  You remember what happens when I say 'It's all right,'?"

"I… freeze, and tell myself that you're always right, and keep saying it, and my words will fill up my mind and squeeze out all of my resistance until it's all gone, and I won't  notice anything around me until I know that I agree with you, and then I will unfreeze."

"That's right.  Good toy!"

"Ohh!"

"That's right.  You feel *wonderful* when I say that.  Good toy."

"Ohhh…"

"Now open your eyes on the count of three.  One, two, three.  Eyes open!"

"Oh, um…"

"Hi!  How are you feeling?"

"Um… woozy a little.  But good..."

A nose touch. "You should get a drink of water.  It's easy to get a little dehydrated when you're in trance for a while."

"No, I'm fine. I don't need any water.  I feel great."

"I really think it's important to hydrate.  Your voice is kind of hoarse even."

"No!  I'm fine."

"It's all right."

"Oh.  Oh.  You're always right.  Um… you're right.  I think I will get some water."

"Good toy! You're such a good toy to do as I tell you.  Doesn't that feel good?  Good toy!"

The blushing subject got up and poured a glass of water in the kitchen, then came back and sat down, drinking it.

Another nose touch.  "Now try one of these chocolates.  It's coconut, but you're really going to like it."

"Um, you know I don't like coconut.  Thanks, but, no thank you."

A smile.  "It's all right.  Do it."

Stricken look.  "You're always right.  Oh um.  Um.  You're right.  I'll try one."  Picking up a chocolate to take a bite, looking thoughtful.  "It actually… I mean…"

Broader grin.  "It's all right."

The eyes unfocused. "Oh.  You're always right.  I… wow."

"Tastes good, doesn't it?  It's all right."

"Oh.  You're always right.  You're always right. It… I… um.  It does taste good."

"*Very* good toy!  You're such a good toy to do as I tell you, aren't you?  Good toy!"

"Oh god."

There was a knock at the door.

"Oh, that'll be my friend coming to watch.  Hang on."  Long legs standing up to go to the door.

"Um… okay.  So I guess we're done with this for now?"

"No, you stay right there.  Hiya!  Come on in.  We're about where I figured we'd be, here, have a seat right here."

"Thanks!  Hey there!"  Waving happily at them both.

"Wait, what?  You planned to have someone else here while we were doing… this?"

"It's all right."

"Oh! Um… you're always right.  Oh."

"That's right.  Good toy.  In fact, just go right back down into trance now… *snap*"

"A Roofie Party?  Who thought that was a good idea?  What would it even mean?"

"Evidently you did, since you're here.  Didn't you read the invitation?"

"Who reads invitations?"

"Or the three different consent forms you had to sign to come here?"

"Who reads consent forms?  Seriously, what's the deal?"

Greg sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  "Okay.  The deal is that it's a party, like any other of Becca's parties-- good music, good food, good company, good times-- except that at some point during the evening, somehow-- people have different theories as to how, and she won't tell us--"

"-- I figure it's got to be chloroform," Daniel put in.

"… yeah, and hypnosis is another going theory; or, of course, roofies-- ANYway, at some point you'll notice that one of these video screens is showing *you*, sleepy or mostly unconscious but compliant and obviously having a good time while Becca has her way with you.  You won't remember it happening-- so far none of us have even recognized the room that it happens *in*, it's not regular party space-- and you won't know *when* it happened.  You'll just know that whenever she wants to, completely at her whim and under her control, she can have her way with you.  And make you like it."

"Wow."  Brad looked back and forth between the faces of his friends.  "Seriously?  You guys are serious about this?"

"Completely serious," said Greg.

"Here, take a look," said Daniel, pointing to the nearest video screen.  Several people were already gathered around it, watching; including a young woman whose face appeared, eyes closed and features slack, in the video, lying on a bed.  Becca was kneeling on the bed above her, and as the crowd watched, Becca deftly slipped off the young woman's panties.  "I'll just keep these," she said, hanging them on a hook above the bed that already carried several such trophies.

"Oh my god," the woman watching the video said, seeing this.  She had a hand pressed against the crotch of her mini-skirt, having clearly just confirmed that her underwear was still missing.  Her cheeks were tinged with pink, but she was still watching.

On screen, Becca was whispering in the woman's ear, and the woman was slowly nodding her head, eyes still closed.  After a few minutes, she licked her lips.

Slowly, her lips parted, and her tongue came out, moving in a halting, uncoordinated fashion, as if she was licking something in a dream but her body hadn't quite caught up.  Then Becca sat up, lifted her leg over-- incidentally flashing the camera, so that it was clear that she wasn't wearing anything under *her* short tight skirt-- and straddled the woman's face.

She was kneeling in reverse, facing the camera so that the crowd could see her possessive, knowing look at them; could watch every sensation as it passed across her expression after she closed her eyes in pleasure.  As the half-unconscious woman obediently licked her cunt.

The woman's face was quite red now.  But she was still watching.  Someone next to her asked her a question and she nodded, eyes riveted on the screen.

Brad took a step back, and went to look for a drink.

Following Becca's usual party layout, the drinks were *not* in the kitchen-- maybe to avoid having everyone bunch up there-- but instead a selection of alcohol and mixers, along with cups and ice, was spread out on tables in two different rooms.  Of course each room had its own video screen.  As far as he could tell, *every* room at the party had a video screen, all showing the same scenes.  He shook his head, and sorted through the drink options.

"Are you sure it isn't drugged?" came a teasing voice from behind him, as Brad poured himself a screwdriver.  He turned to see another young woman he didn't know, although he was sure he'd seen her face before.  Probably at another of Becca's parties.  Her parties had quite a wild reputation, although this was another level altogether.

"I hear there's no way to tell!" he said, rolling his eyes.  "I'm Brad."  He offered her his hand.

"Carey.  Nice to meet you, Brad.  Have you made a special guest appearance yet?"  Her eyes were dancing.

"No… not that I know of, I mean.  This is definitely gonna teach me to read invitations more carefully, though."

"Oh my god.  You didn't *know*?  Didn't you read the consent forms?"

"Again with the consent forms!  Like anybody reads those."

She just looked at him, eyes laughing, shaking her head slowly.

Brad sighed, closed his eyes, and downed his drink in one gulp.  "Maybe a couple of drinks in I'll feel less like an ass.  Actually, do you know--" he turned, opening his eyes… and found himself face to face with Becca.

"Hi Brad," Becca smiled.

"Um… hi," Brad managed.

"Got something to ask me?"

"I… actually, yes.  Which way is your bathroom?"

Becca laughed.  "I'll show you," she said, taking his arm.  "It's just down this hallway."   She started to lead him off.

"While I've got you," Becca said when they turned into a quiet hallway after a little bit of maneuvering through the crowd, "rumor has it that you were a naughty boy and didn't read all the consent forms you signed."

"Does anybody really read those?" Brad asked distractedly, starting to feel the effects of the drink he'd gulped down so quickly as well as the need for the restroom she was leading him to.

"Yes, Brad, they do."  Becca stopped him in the hallway, and looked him in the eyes. "You do realize this means I can do anything I want to you, right?  You didn't even read what you consented to."

Brad blinked.  She looked like she was joking, but there was something disturbingly intent about her tone of voice.  "I guess you can…" he admitted.

"Say it," she said.

"What?"

"Tell me," Becca said firmly, still looking him in the eyes.

He searched her face, but found no excuses there.  "Um…" He took a breath. "You can do anything you want to me."

"Good boy," Becca said.  Then she smiled warmly.  For some reason, seeing that smile, he suddenly *felt* it; like he would be completely *okay* with her doing anything she wanted to with him.  As long as it made her smile like that.

"And here's the bathroom," Becca continued, turning him to the side and pointing him at a door.  The paneling in this part of the house was different than where they'd been a moment ago, and the sounds of the party were quieter; nobody was in the bathroom.  Brad stepped inside and closed the door.

Something about Becca's smile.  His head was still swimming with it.  Brad took a moment to splash water on his face, and take a look at himself in the mirror.

He looked *way* drunker than one drink should have made him.  Maybe he needed to take a cab home.  But he was pretty sure that he was in over his head with this party.  Asking for a bathroom had mostly been an excuse to take a break and reassess, and he decided that yes, he probably should leave before he came up next on Becca's list and fell into her clutches for serious.

Though, really, letting her have her way with him might be worth it, even if he didn't remember it afterwards.  That smile…

Brad sighed, and splashed his face with more cold water, then pulled his pants down and sat on the toilet.  Ducking in here *had* been mostly an excuse, but in fact now he *really* needed to pee.

A few minutes later, cleaned up and feeling slightly more presentable, Brad came out of the bathroom and followed the sounds of music and laughter back to the main part of the party.

The first people he ran into were Greg, Daniel, and Carey.  "Hey guys.  I think I'm going to head home early; this whole idea is a little too crazy for me, and I'm just going to put it down as a lesson in reading what I sign up for."

"Uh huh," said Carey, laughing.  "Are you sure about that?"  Greg and Daniel exchanged knowing looks.

"Um… yes?" Brad said.

Carey crooked a finger at him, and turned and started walking into the next room.

"What…?" Brad asked, looking to Greg and Daniel for help.  They both urged him to follow Carey's retreating back, so he hastened after her.

She led him into a small otherwise-unoccupied den with a couch and another of the ubiquitous video screens, this one a large-screen TV.

On the screen was Brad.  Naked.

Becca, also naked, was straddling him, kneeling, sliding her slippery wet pussy along the length of his hard cock pressed against his belly, teasing him without actually taking him inside her.  His eyes were closed, but his hips were grinding hard up against her.

"Tell me," said Becca on the screen, firmly.

"Um…" Brad on the screen mumbled.  "You can do anything you want to me."

"Again."  Her hips sped up, and his lower body visibly tensed underneath her.

"You can do anything you want to me."

"Again…"

"You can do anything you want to me ohhh god ohhhh!"

On screen, Becca pulled back and put her hand on his cock, stroking quickly until Brad came, all over his belly and chest.  Then, still holding his slowly-spurting cock in her hand, she turned and looked into the camera.  Right at him.

Carey put her arms around him from behind, and guided one of Brad's hands up under his shirt, where he felt that his belly was still a little bit sticky with semen.  Then she guided his hand down inside his jeans, where he could feel that his underwear was gone.  Some part of his mind noted that it was still visible on the screen, on the hook where Becca kept her trophies.

His cock was slick and wet, and stiffening under his hand.  Carey moved his hand up and down a little on the shaft.  Then she took him by the other elbow and turned him around.

Holding his eyes, Carey backed up to the couch and sat down on the corner of it, legs spread.  She pulled her skirt up until he could see that she'd had a turn in Becca's secret room already also.

"See anything *you*'d like to do?" Carey asked.