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Chewtoy
"Right here, right now." His eyes came back into focus, or maybe opened-- he was a little unsure. He blinked a few times. Sitting across from him, she grinned. "How did that feel?" It took him a moment to find his voice. "Good. Relaxing. I... kind of started dreaming for a while there, I wasn't paying so much attention to what you were saying, I'm sorry about that." "No, that's all right. I told you to do that." "You did?" He thought back. He remembered her talking about drifting. Had she said something about it being okay to stop paying attention to her words? Maybe. That did seem familiar. "Yes, I did. And you did it exactly right. You're very good at following directions." Something about her saying that made his face feel hot. He looked down, embarrassed. She said nothing, waiting. Eventually he started to feel even more embarrassed by the silence than by his own reaction, and he slowly looked back up. She was still looking steadily at him, smiling slightly. Approvingly. Her eyes were wide, open, direct, meeting his with all of her attention. Again, he noticed how clear and pretty the color of her eyes was, prettier than he could imagine anything else in the room being. Riveting. "Are you ready to try again?" It took him a moment to register her words, and he blinked. She grinned, and he shook his head to clear it, took a moment to look around the room. After a second he realized that his head shake could have been interpreted as a no. "Um, yes. Hang on a second." "It's all right. Shake it out, get comfortable." She grinned again. Taking her at her word, he wiggled his body all over, ending with rocking his butt from side to side in the chair. Then he took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. He looked up at her again, met her eyes. She gave the tiniest of nods. Then suddenly, her index finger was in front of his eyes. "Right here, right now," she said. His eyes locked on her finger. She was saying some more things, but he'd already lost track. For some reason, he was daydreaming about getting ready for a really special occasion. It had some of the feel of a super important job interview, and some of the feel of a really hot date-- except maybe a first date? But whatever it was, he was very much looking forward to it, and he wanted more than anything to make a good impression. He'd showered and shaved, and put on the tiniest hint of an afterthought of colone, the brand one of his girlfriends had been super into-- just enough to remind *himself* to think sexy thoughts. Maybe that meant it was a date. He was putting on his nicest suit-- the one that had always made the same girlfriend catch her breath when she saw him dressing in the morning. He had a moment of confusion with the slacks when he realized he'd forgotten to wear underwear, and he wondered if that was going to get him in trouble later if this *was* a date, but somehow that thought was hard to hold onto; it just wasn't as important as getting ready. He was going through all of the preparations and little rituals he did for getting ready for a really important occasion, and for getting ready for a very exciting and sexy date. Somehow it all ended in just looking at himself in the floor-length mirror in his bedroom, feeling confident at how good he looked, and noticing how each individual aspect of his appearance, bearing, and grooming was specifically chosen for *someone else*'s pleasure. And then a really weird whim struck him. And suddenly, to the beat of an imaginary track of slow, grinding, sexy music, he was taking his clothes back off. He turned his back to the mirror, playing to in imaginary audience on the other side; but since teasing was the point of a strip-tease, he kept turning around to the mirror again, his back to the "audience," and he noticed that when he took his clothes of *this* way-- in slow, teasing, sensual burlesque style-- he kept all the comfort and confidence and sexiness, all of the emotional charge of *wearing* those clothes, even while he was taking them off. Finally, he was stripped completely naked, facing the mirror and ready to turn around for his act's final reveal, when... He felt hands on his shoulders. "Right here, right now." He was looking at her face in the mirror, beside and a little behind his own, where she was speaking into his ear. In the mirror, where he was standing in front of her, completely naked. The funny thing was that standing there, looking at himself naked in the mirror, he *did* still feel a lot of the confidence and comfort and sexiness that he had in his daydream. Even while he was also... well, actually, not mortified, but a bit shy, about realizing that he had just stripped naked, in front of her, under hypnosis. And he still had that sense of anticipation, of being about to do something very important. Her face was gone from the mirror, and he realized that she had quietly stepped back. He turned, and saw that she had returned to the chair she was sitting in before, and was casually but purposefully seated there, occupying it like a throne. She looked somehow like a seated monarch, a goddess, but still her eyes were prettier, more compelling, than he could imagine anything else in the room being. Riveting. She looked deliberately down at the floor in front of him, and somehow he knew she meant for him to kneel. He still had just enough self-consciousness about his body to wish that he could kneel more gracefully than he did, but as soon as he'd awkwardly folded to his knees he forgot about his body completely, pinned again by her eyes. Sprawled on her throne, she spread her legs apart, and he noticed for the first time that she wasn't wearing underwear either. She pointed. "Right here, right now." He hastened to do her bidding.
Chewtoy
"That's not a very accurate way to measure it."

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.

Chewtoy

"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."

Chewtoy

"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.

Chewtoy Apr 3 '16 · Rate: 5 · Comments: 1 · Tags: chewtoy, mind control, erotic mind control, erotica, story, femdom