Sleepy Boy

Disclaimer: The usual caveats. This is fiction, so if you can’t distinguish it from fact, or if you are bothered by the ideas of erotic hypnosis or male/male sexual activity, then don’t read this. If you are under the legal age in your community, then you must not proceed further. If your community forbids your access to this kind of material even if you are an adult, then CHANGE COMMUNITIES! (But don’t read this until you have.) And, as always, if you have any good ideas for gay hypno-fantasies, write them up and post them. I like to read too.

“This is way cool!” Danny thought to himself, as he looked around the hotel suite that Brett, his cousin Steve’s fraternity roommate and best man, had rented for Steve’s bachelor party. This was Danny’s first experience with such an occasion, and he was really looking forward to it. When his other cousin, Steve’s older brother, had been married, Danny was still a shy, skinny kid of fifteen, too young for the party. Now however, at nineteen, he was plenty old enough. Hell, he was even one of the groomsmen. And thanks to a lot of bodybuilding, he was no longer skinny either. He’d always had a cute face, but now his compact body was tight with well-sculpted teenage muscle. He was one hot dude, if he did say it himself! However, his sexy new body had yet to cure his shyness around girls. He was still a virgin, and had never even seen a naked woman outside of pictures, so he was especially excited and curious about the stripper he was certain Brett had hired to entertain.

Danny took another sip of his beer. His Uncle Jeff was keeping a close eye on how much his underage nephew had to drink, but he was allowing him enough to get a little mellow, and to take part in the toasts. “The girl should be getting here before much longer,” Danny thought. All of his cousin’s male relatives and friends seemed to have arrived by now. There were a few Danny hadn’t met, but he assumed that they were Steve’s college friends.

Then Brett called for quiet. “Steve,” he announced, “Before you begin your last night of freedom as an unmarried man, I want you to meet someone who’s going to give you a little taste of what your future with Bonny will be like.” He gestured, and a slim, good-looking, dark-haired young man that Danny had thought was one of the frat brothers stepped forward. “Let me introduce Mr. Tom LeBlanc, hypnotist extraordinaire!” There was laughter and applause. Danny, who had been trying to place the guy, decided that he looked familiar only because he bore such a strong resemblance to Michael Landes, the actor in the TV show Special Unit 2.

Steve was obviously unimpressed, but after some coaxing and teasing, he good-naturedly agreed to go along with it, saying he bet it wouldn’t work anyway. Tom, however, was very good at his job. He went right to work on Steve, and soon Steve was paying attention in spite of himself. Shortly thereafter he was out like a light.

“Steve,” said the hypnotist, “From now on, and for the rest of the evening, whenever anyone here asks you to do something, you will say ‘Yes, Dear’, and do whatever it is immediately. You will know what you’re doing, and why, but you won’t be able to stop yourself from responding as I have instructed. Now, wake up.”

Steve opened his eyes with a jerk. “I told you it wouldn’t work. I wasn’t hypnotized.”

“Of course not,” laughed Brett. “Oh, by the way, Steve, get me another drink.”

Steve instantly said, “Yes, Dear,” and walked over to the bar, at the same time looking intensely surprised. As he handed the drink to his best man he muttered, “Well I’ll be damned!”

Danny thought he’d bust a gut laughing as, until the novelty of the thing wore off, they really put Steve though his paces, pouring drinks, lighting cigarettes, doing all sorts of silly things, and always mildly saying “Yes, Dear” to each request. Danny noticed the hypnotist looking his way, so he gave him a thumbs-up sign and pantomimed applause. When they finally allowed Steve a little breathing space, he went over to Tom. “Hey, you rat,” he complained, “Am I going to have to do this all night?”

The hypnotist grinned. “Yup. But, in the interest of fair play…” He clapped his hands and said, “Lights out!” This time, to everyone’s surprise, it was handsome Brett who was suddenly fast asleep on his feet.

Danny couldn’t contain his curiosity. “How did you do that?” He exclaimed. “You didn’t do any hypnotizing!”

“I’ve hypnotized Brett before,” Tom answered. “I just programmed him with a trigger phrase to make it easier the next time I wanted him under. Now watch.” He turned to the hypnotized young man. “Brett, tonight, every time you hear Steve say ‘Yes, Dear’, you are going to put your thumb in your mouth and suck it. You won’t even notice you’re doing it until someone or something calls it to your attention. You won’t have any memory of this suggestion, or of having been in a trance.” He snapped his fingers and Brett was suddenly back to normal, patently unaware of what had just been done to him. Tom turned to Steve. “Would you do the honors?”

Steve automatically responded, “Yes, Dear”, and immediately macho Brett began to suck his thumb like a contented baby. Steve and the other frat brothers practically fell over they were laughing so hard. Brett looked totally mystified until he tried to ask what was so funny, and realized that he was speaking around his thumb. He blushed and yanked it out of his mouth, glaring at Tom.

Tom spread his hands as if to say, “Hey, fair is fair”. He said, “Call it a wedding present to Steve. And before you get too bent out of shape, remember that I could have made it a lot worse.”

Then Brett began to chuckle too. “Yeah, I guess you could have at that.”

Brett had no idea just how true those words were. One of the main reasons that Tom took fraternity and bachelor party gigs like this one was to collect good-looking young men. At the last party where he’d entertained. Brett had been one of the guests, and the hypnotist had put him under his spell. Since then, thumbs were not the only things he had made the handsome stud suck! As a matter of fact, his job here tonight was the result of a direct post-hypnotic command planted while Brett was still in deep trance after a wild night as a spellbound sexual plaything.

Now, however, he had his eye on Danny. The kid’s adorable boy-next-door face and hot, tough little body were exactly what Tom was looking for. He was just trying to come up with a ruse to get the boy to volunteer for an experiment when the lights went low. The stripper had arrived.

When Brett was not under hypnotic control, he was totally heterosexual, and he had very good taste. The girl he’d hired was a knockout! Danny couldn’t take his eyes off her as she did her slow, sensual bumps and grinds. He scarcely even blinked. Tom noted his rapt concentration (as well as the promising tent beginning to develop in his jeans). The boy was already fixated better than any spinning watch could have done it. The hypnotist eased over until he was standing next to him. This would be a piece of cake. He didn’t even need to get cooperation.

Tom began to speak in a low, soothing voice. “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Danny breathed. He didn’t even turn to see who was talking.

“It’s so good to be able to watch her, to watch how she moves, so sexy, so smooth, to let go and forget about everything but that beautiful body. So sexy and so relaxing to let your eyes find just one perfect point and follow it as it weaves in and out of her dance, back and forth, around and around… so lovely, so soothing.

Tom continued to ease his way under the edges of the boy’s consciousness. Danny, without even realizing it, found his eyes drawn to the glittering sequins on the stripper’s g-string, following the lights shining off them, back and forth, as her hips rolled. The rest of the room faded from his awareness, the music becoming soft and distant. Danny began to feel as though he were floating down a long tunnel into that sparkling crotch. He had never felt so turned on, and yet so relaxed and detached. Danny’s thoughts came more and more slowly. There was a voice. He couldn’t seem to remember whose it was, or when he had started to listen to it, but it had become more and more irresistibly important – soothing, compelling, demanding attention and compliance.

The hypnotist never ceased his quiet monolog, watching with satisfaction as the teen’s handsome features went slack and his posture eased. When he knew the boy was ready, he said, “The dancing lights are making your eyes very tired, so very, very tired. Your eyelids are so heavy… so-o-o heavy. Soon they will close by themselves, no matter how hard you try to hold them open. But you won’t mind, because you will still watch the dance even with your eyes closed, even as you sleep deeply. So heavy and tired now, so sleepy… you’re trying so hard to keep them open, but you just can’t. And now they close, and there is nothing but the dance and my voice… you are so sleepy… nothing but my voice… deeper and deeper… so-o-o sleepy… nothing but my voice… and sleep… my voice… and sleep… sleep… sleep.”

Danny stood motionless, breathing gently, his eyes fast shut, eyelashes curling softly against his cheeks, his innocent face totally blank. He was miles deep in hypnotic trance.

Tom checked quickly to make sure that everyone else was still focused on the stripper, and then, still speaking quietly, switched to a more authoritative tone of voice. “You are fast asleep, and you will not, you cannot awaken until I tell you to. You will do exactly as I say, instantly and without question, no matter what. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Danny murmured dully.

“Danny, tonight when you are asleep in bed, you will have a special dream, a very vivid dream. It will be a dream about having sex with a very handsome boy. You can picture him now, the handsomest boy you know. Who is this boy you will dream about?”

As though it were being dragged out of him against his will, Danny sighed, “Johnny Miller.”

“And who is Johnny Miller?” Tom prodded.

“T.A. … in my psychology course this semester.”

“You will have this very powerful, very real dream of having sex with Johnny Miller. It will not frighten or disgust you. On the contrary, it will excite you very much; in fact, it will be a wet dream. After the dream is over, you will get out of bed, but you will not wake up. You will write down a full description of your dream in detail, and secure it so that no one else will find it or read it. Then you will go back to bed and sleep until your usual hour. You will forget all about the dream and what you have written. Now, turn around to face me, and open your eyes but do not wake up. “ The boy obeyed. The hypnotist continued. “Look into my eyes. You have no thoughts, you have no will, you are in my power. From now on, whenever you hear me say the words ‘sleepy boy’, you will instantly be hypnotized, ten times deeper than you are now. Tomorrow, you will call me at ___-____ to make an appointment for a hypnosis session. You won’t wonder, or even think about why you are doing so. It will seem perfectly reasonable to you. You will be careful not to let anyone know about it, or about where you are going. If anyone should become too curious, you’ll simply make up the most believable lie for that particular person. You will be absolutely certain to come alone, and you will bring the written description of your dream with you. Repeat those instructions.” Danny did.

“Now, in a moment I’ll tell you to turn around. When I do, you’ll be back in your normal consciousness, watching the dancer. You will have no memory either now or later of anything I’ve said to you while you were asleep, although you will obey all the suggestions I gave you. You will have no memory of having been in trance at all. You’ll only remember watching the stripper and getting very horny.” Tom had a passing whim. “As a matter of fact, you’ll get so turned on that, before she finishes her dance, you will cum in your pants. You can feel that your dick is already really hard. Now, turn around and wake up.”

Danny performed an about face back to the stripper and was suddenly once again riveted by the beauty of the woman, not that he had any inkling that he’d been paying attention to anything else. God, she was so hot he thought he’d explode! And then the pleasure spasms started deep in his body. He was having a fucking orgasm just watching her! Danny tried to control himself, but couldn’t quite stifle a gasp and a soft moan as he pumped his load into his jockeys.

The hypnotist watched, first with lust, as the boy’s ass flexed in his jeans from his fuck-spasm, and then with amusement, when Danny sneaked off to the john to try to clean the stickiness out of his shorts. Damn! Tom was beginning to feel really horny himself, but it was going to take both privacy and a good deal of trance deepening before young Danny would be ready for him. No, he’d have to wait until tomorrow for that particular pleasure, but there was always Brett, already thoroughly primed for action. As soon as the party no longer demanded his constant presence as emcee, he could be spirited away for some fun and games.

Brett, for his part, was at the moment trying his considerable charm on the stripper, but she had dealt with frat-boys too often to pay him any particular attention as she worked the room in a professionally impartial manner. And besides, he kept sucking his thumb! When the blond stud backed off to get another drink and nurse his bruised ego, Tom sidled over to him and again uttered the magic words, “Lights out”. It was easy then to convince the suggestible lad to go on a beer run during which, in his car out in the parking lot of the all-night store, the hypnotist enjoyed a luscious blowjob from the spellbound college boy. He finished up by drinking his own cum from Brett’s willing (and will-less) lips in a deep kiss. And if, when they returned with the beer, Brett felt oddly sexy, and had a strange taste in his mouth, his mind had been carefully rendered incapable of drawing any conclusions from it.

Late the next afternoon Danny knocked on the door of Tom’s apartment, keeping the appointment he had been compelled to make. Tom let him in, and as he shut the door said, “Danny, you look like a very sleepy boy.” Instantly the teenager went blank, standing motionless, eyes glassy, wide open to suggestion. Tom looked him over with satisfaction and commanded, “Come to my study.” The boy followed him helplessly to the paneled office with its long, soft therapy couch. He was wearing a white t-shirt and tight jeans, and filling both magnificently. The hypnotist knew that it was too soon to maneuver him into sex, but he did think he could arrange for a little better display as he worked on him.

“Danny, I want you to feel very relaxed and comfortable, so you will take off your shoes and socks. And, of course, it is rather hot in here, so take off your shirt as well.” Moving like a sleepwalker, the young man complied, and then stood as if for inspection, his dark hair, rumpled by the t-shirt’s passage, giving him a very bedroom appearance. Tom licked his lips. The kid was gorgeous! The hypnotist admired the broad shoulders, the slim waist, and all the beautifully sculpted muscles. Danny’s chest was so nearly hairless that Tom wondered if perhaps, in addition to the obvious Irish heritage, there might not also be a bit of Native American blood in the mix. Then he went to work.

“Lie down on the therapy couch and close your eyes. You are going to go much deeper than you are now… much, much deeper. I want you to visualize a long, long staircase. I don’t know how many steps it has, but there are more than a hundred. Do you see them?”

“Yes,” whispered the hypnotized boy.

“When I tell you to, you will begin to walk slowly down that steps. You will count each step out loud as you go down, and every step, every number that you say, will take you twice as deeply into trance. Now, give me the dream description you have written down for me, and begin to count.”

Without opening his eyes, Danny dug into his jeans pocket and brought forth a crumpled sheet of paper, meanwhile droning, “One… two… three…” As his subject unresistingly thrust himself further and further under Tom’s control, the hypnotist read the boy’s manuscript:

‘I go to the teaching assistants’ office for a meeting with my psych course T.A., Johnny Miller, to talk about my term paper. When I get there, Johnny is sitting at the desk in the only chair. He invites me to sit in his lap. In my dream this seems perfectly reasonable, so I do. I can feel his dick through his pants getting hard under my ass. I’ve never really thought about it before, but Johnny is damned good-looking: nice body, wavy blond hair, a face like a younger Brad Pitt, and eyes so blue that I wonder if he wears tinted contact lenses. To my surprise, I’m getting very turned on, wondering what it would be like to touch his bare skin, to kiss him. I wiggle my butt a little and feel his dick get even harder.

But Johnny is still talking about my term paper. My topic is military experiments in mind control, and he says that I haven’t shown that I fully understand how hypnotism could be used to control behavior, so he will give me a demonstration. He begins to move his class ring back and forth, catching the light, and to talk about relaxing, and I start to feel funny - kind of dizzy, and real sleepy.

Then everything changes and we are in bed together, naked. I can’t remember anything about how we got there. Johnny says he wants to fuck me, and that I am going to let him. I feel a little scared, but I can’t seem to resist him. I have to do whatever he tells me to. I lie back and lift my legs, and he plunges his big dick into my hole. It hurts, and yet it doesn’t, and I realize that, more and more, I want it in there. This beats the hell out of jacking off. Johnny fucks like a piston, and inside me he keeps rubbing and bumping against something that feels like a million little orgasms. I’m cumming, and he’s cumming, and I pull his face down to mine and stick my tongue deep into his mouth. And then the dream ends, and I know I have to write it down and go back to sleep.’

Tom was delighted. First, it amused him that Danny’s subconscious had woven hypnotism into the dream text, but second, and more important from the hypnotist’s point of view, when the straight young stud had obeyed the command to dream about sex with another guy, he’d envisioned himself on the bottom, not the top. There would be much less re-programming necessary to turn him into a pliant sex-toy than there had been for Brett or some of Tom’s other conquests.

While Tom had been reading and plotting, Danny had continued down the staircase in his mind, counting himself deeper and deeper into spellbound oblivion. He was well past one hundred now, and so completely entranced that he could scarcely make his lips pronounce the numbers. Tom knew that he was ready for the crucial test.

“You may stop counting,” he instructed, and the boy fell silent. The hypnotist ran his hands over Danny’s muscular chest and firm, flat stomach down to the waistband of his pants. The kid’s skin was soft and flawlessly smooth, and he accepted the intimate caresses without so much as a twitch of demurral. The boy was his! Tom’s impatient cock immediately swelled to full erection. He quickly undressed and then returned to his motionless boy-toy to unbuckle the belt, undo the top button, and unzip the fly. “Danny, raise your hips off the couch a little.” His subject dutifully complied without a hint of resistance, and Tom eased the jeans and the white jockey shorts down to the boy’s ankles, revealing a perfect pair of legs, and a very handsome set of equipment (not erect, but impressive nonetheless) nestling in the soft black bush. “You may lower your hips,” he said, and as Danny’s body relaxed back onto the couch, Tom freed the boy’s feet from the jeans and shorts, leaving him completely naked. The hypnotist put the shorts to his face and inhaled. Perfect! They were clean, but full of the perfume of young male musk. He put them in a drawer to be enjoyed later.

“Danny, you did not wear any underwear today. You remember it felt kind of sexy to be loose and free inside your jeans. Now tell me you didn’t have on underwear today, and it becomes true for you.” His entranced subject mumbled his helpless agreement. He would now never miss the purloined shorts.

Tom continued, “There is a slot machine in front of you, and a large supply of quarters. You can see them without opening your eyes. Do you see the slot machine?”

“Yeah,” came the sleepy mumble.

“Start playing the slot machine. You can do it without moving from the couch.” The spellbound youth slowly began to pantomime the motions, soon gaining a machine-like rhythm. “Now you can’t stop. But I want you to try to stop, to try as hard as you can. Try harder! Try anything you can think of to stop yourself, but no matter how hard you try, your hands and arms keep right on playing, taking you deeper and deeper.” The hypnotist found it curiously sexy, and even a little spooky, to watch the boy lying quietly on his couch, his eyes closed, his face blank and calm, repeating over and over the placing of an invisible coin in a non-existent slot, the pulling of a phantom handle. A light sheen of sweat was the only indication of the internal struggle the kid was waging against himself and losing.

“When I touch you the slot machine will be gone, and you will be able to stop playing. You will relax back onto the couch.” Tom caressed the boy’s neck, running his fingers sensuously from his earlobe down to the hollow of his collarbone. Danny’s arms immediately fell back to his sides.

“You know now that I have total control over your body and your mind, greater control than you yourself have. You understand this, don’t you?” Again the dreamy assent. “Very good. It’s necessary that you are quite certain of this, because my next instruction is very important to you; more important than anything you have ever known. Whenever you hear me (and only me) say the phrase ‘toy-boy’ your entire awareness will become focused on sex. You will be unable to do or think of anything else. Your body will become so extremely sensitive to stimulation that every inch of your skin, from your scalp to the soles of your feet will be just as capable of pleasure as the head of your cock. Everything you feel, see, or hear will just turn you on more and more. But, no matter what, you will not cum until I tell you to! However, when I do give you permission to cum, it will always be the most intense, most satisfying orgasm you’ve ever had or imagined having. Now, prepare for trip to paradise, toy-boy!”

Since it was one of his favorite zones for foreplay, Tom continued to fondle the boy’s neck, gradually adding little kisses, nips, and licks. The effect on Danny was much different this time. He began to pant, and his cock surged almost instantly to full erection. The hypnotist moved his hands and mouth down, caressing the boy’s ribs and flat, hard stomach, and licking and sucking on his tender nipples, which immediately contracted into hard, aroused little nubs surrounded by gooseflesh.

Danny went crazy. His eyelids were still locked shut, but the rest of his body was in motion as he squirmed in helpless passion. He began to rub his ass against the leather of the couch, and tossed his head from side to side, gasping and moaning.

In between kisses, Tom grabbed some lube from his desk drawer. “Hold the first two fingers of your left hand together and make them strong and unbending, as stiff as steel,” he commanded. When the boy had done so, the hypnotist smeared gel on the rigid fingers. “You will stick your fingers in your asshole and fuck yourself with them,” Tom instructed. “It will feel wonderful.” Helplessly the little stud rolled partly onto his side and began to frig himself, grunting like an animal. “Your fingers feel just like a hard cock. In fact, they are no longer your fingers. They are a hard cock. It is Johnny Miller’s cock, and he’s fucking you like a stallion.” Danny’s hips bucked and his fingers delved deeper and deeper. His cock grew even harder and began to leak pre-cum almost continuously.

At last Tom finished playing with his subject’s torso and began to suck the rampant cock, while tickling and stroking the boy’s firm thighs and the sensitive area behind his ball-sac. Danny smelled and tasted so good that the hypnotist wondered which of the two of them was actually having the better time. He almost came himself, just from the sensory banquet.

When Danny’s cries and contortions finally convinced Tom that his subject could become no more thoroughly aroused, the hypnotist ordered the boy to count to ten and then orgasm. Tom increased his suction on the thrusting cock as the kid whimpered out the numbers, and ten seconds later his hungry mouth was filled with hot, delicious boy-cream. Danny’s explosion was spectacular. He came so much that, in spite of Tom’s diligent swallowing, a good portion of the cum escaped from the hypnotist’s lips to ooze down the shaft. When the youth’s spasms finally subsided, he relaxed back onto the couch, sated. Tom scooped up the remaining spatters of cum and smeared them onto Danny’s lips, nostrils, and cheeks. Looking down at the boy, once again lying quietly in the semblance of innocent sleep, his handsome young face now glistening wetly with his own juices, Tom was so powerfully aroused that, once again, he nearly went over the edge. The hypnotist took a moment to calm himself, and then said, “Relax and take a deep breath as your body returns to its normal sensitivity.” Danny inhaled the heady scent of sperm. “You like that smell. You will always like it. It is the smell of pleasure, your pleasure. And you did have a great deal of pleasure, didn’t you? More pleasure than you ever imagined?”

“It was the best,” sighed the hypnotized boy.

I gave you this pleasure. You know it happened because you fell under my spell, because you listened to me and obeyed, and now you are very, very grateful. You will do anything for me to show just how grateful, won’t you?”

“Anything,” came the soft reply.

“Do not wake up, but open your eyes and come to me. You have fallen in love with me, and you must do anything you can think of to give me as much pleasure as I have just given you.”

Danny’s beautiful gray eyes fluttered open. He stretched luxuriously and then got up from the couch, his handsome face aglow with spellbound adoration. He walked into Tom’s embrace, fitting his body as close to the hypnotist’s as he could, and began to kiss him passionately; soft, deep, moist kisses that seemed to last for days, yet were over too soon. The smell of cum on the boy’s cheeks made Tom dizzy with lust, as his hands wandered everywhere over the smooth skin and firm young muscles of his unresisting love-slave.

Inexperienced, Danny only duplicated, more or less, the actions that had been performed on him as he lay in helpless thrall on the couch, but since Tom had used that kind of foreplay that he himself most enjoyed, the hypnotist was more than satisfied with the result. The soft mouth and probing hands were driving him to distraction as they migrated down his body. And when the boy finally began to suck him, Tom thought his blood was going to boil. He tried to delay just a little longer, but the sustained tease to which he had been subjecting himself had brought him too close to the point of no return. His hips began to thrust, almost of their own accord, and then he could hold back no longer. As the entranced youth’s exploring fingers found and entered Tom’s ass, the hypnotist’s whole body went nova in as intense an orgasm as he had ever felt. Once again Danny’s pretty face was anointed with cum, as his busily sucking mouth couldn’t keep up with the volume being pumped out.

In a haze of afterglow, Tom lay down on the couch, and Danny cuddled beside him, kissing his chest. After a time of contented nuzzling, the hypnotist said, “Close your eyes, sleepy boy. You’re going even deeper into trance.” Then he went to fetch a towel, and cleaned up the residue of lovemaking from himself and the helpless boy. When he had finished mopping off, Tom resumed his clothes, and, handing Danny his shirt and jeans, instructed him to get dressed as well.

Moments later the teen stood before Tom, eyes still closed, and swaying gently in the grip of his unbreakable trance, but fully dressed. The hypnotist began his final indoctrination of the boy into permanent sexual service.

“Danny, do you remember the two trigger phrases that I taught you?” he asked, and the boy nodded. “Please repeat them to me, and also my instructions concerning them.”

“Whenever I hear you say ‘sleepy boy’, I will go into a deep trance, ten times deeper than the one I’m in now,” Danny droned. “Whenever I hear you say ‘toy-boy’, I will feel real sexy all over.”

“Very good,” said Tom. “That’s exactly right, and whenever you hear me say either of those phrases, those responses are just what will happen. But you will now forget that you know these instructions. You will still respond exactly as you have been programmed, no matter where you are or what you are doing, whenever I use those phrases, but you no longer recall having heard me say them before. You have no memory of having reacted to them, nor any conscious knowledge of how you will react to them when next you hear them. You will also forget about everything we have done here. You will forget about having ever been under hypnosis, you will forget that you were ever here. You will account for the missing time in any way that seems reasonable to you, and once you have decided what that is, you will believe it unshakably. You will remember only one thing, and that is that you like me a lot. You can’t remember what I did, or how good I made you feel, but you will always associate me with feeling good. You will be delighted to spend time with me any time I want you to. Do you understand?”

The drowsy boy smiled. “You’re my bud.”

Tom smiled as well. “I have one more command for you. You will obey it compulsively, even though you have no conscious knowledge of it. Any time you are involved in a party or gathering, whether as host or as guest, where there will be good-looking young men, as young and handsome as yourself, you will do your best (without becoming ridiculous) to see that I am included. You may arrange to hire me to entertain, or simply obtain permission for me to come along with you. And you will introduce me to all of your sexually attractive male friends and acquaintances, trying hard to interest them in experiencing hypnosis. You can start with Johnny Miller.” Tom figured that a teaching assistant in a psychology course would be fairly easy to talk into a hypnotic experiment, and besides, from Danny’s description, he really sounded hot.

The hypnotist pulled the spellbound boy into one last embrace, kissing his eyes and mouth, and then escorted him to the door, one hand still cupping the cleft of his firm, young buttocks. At the door, he had a sudden inspiration. “Danny, get another erection.” The boy’s jeans obediently tented. “Whenever you get hard, you will think of me, at least fleetingly. And whenever you think of me, you will get hard. I have become linked, in your mind, with sex. Now your dick returns to normal and you may go, remembering to forget that you were ever here.” Danny got into his car and drove away without looking back.

Some time later, Danny found himself thinking about the bachelor party. But it wasn’t the beautiful stripper that he recalled. “That hypnotist guy at Steve’s party was really cool,” he thought to himself. “I bet Johnny Miller would do just about anything to meet him.” And he absently stroked his suddenly stiffening crotch.

To be continued in: The Psychology Pool


tagBDSMA Cure for Melancholia

A Cure for Melancholia

A Treatment for Melancholia

Mr. Johnson rocked back and forth with the steady rhythm of the trolley, he sat reading the paper, and doing his best to ignore the people around him. He finished the news and then turned to the back classifieds. He usually didn't read such tripe, cures for baldness etc. but today something caught his eye.

Is your wife not quite the woman you married? Is she depressed? Listless? It could be melancholia. It's a treatable condition. Results guaranteed. Dr. Livingston 809A Main St.

That was a word Mr. Johnson liked to see. But he was still cautious. His wife wasn't quite the woman he married, oh she was still pretty with her curly red hair and her tight young body. She was better than a balding, slightly overweight man like him deserved, but he was rich and could afford the finest. And lately...he wasn't quite as sure he had the finest. No, lately the new had worn off. Her eyes didn't fill with gladness whenever he came home at night...more often as not late as usual.

Moreover, she had taken to nagging.

No, not the wife he had married at all.

He inspected the ad again. He had heard stories of some of these treatments already. But this one looked different. Guaranteed. He was temped on that word alone. It would be free if he wasn't satisfied. They didn't think he would hold them to the bargain, but they didn't know the sort of man he was. His mouth took on a sly grin and he looked around. He was on the 600 block of Main Street. 700. He was practically there already.

He pulled the cord for the next stop.

Not much of an office, Mr. Johnson thought as he climbed the narrow creaking steps and entered the cheaply furnished room.

Dr. Livingston could see the look of condescension written in the customer's eyes. But the well dressed man didn't know half of it.

It was a crummy office.

But it was an even crummier home. Yet, that was indeed what it was. There was a small bedroll hidden in the back cabinet, and that was where Dr. Livingston had slept each night for the last 3 weeks. It hadn't always been this way. She'd once been wealthy. Not well to do. But wealthy enough to pursue her passion to become a doctor. They wouldn't teach her in the United States; she'd had to go to France. She'd come back with just enough to start her practice. Yet, everyone so far had turned tale and ran the moment that she said she was a doctor. She'd lost her apartment, and much more and she'd soon be on the street.

"Is the Doctor in?" Mr. Johnson asked.

Dr. Livingston hated this portly bald fool already. As if SHE couldn't be the doctor. But she knew from experience that was a argument she couldn't win. Not with such small minded people as these.

"Not right now. But what is your ailment?" Dr. Livingston asked.

"Well...I saw your ad." Mr. Johnson said. He'd have rather said it to the doctor, but this may be even better. He could feel this woman out to see if it was worth his bother. "The one about melancholia. My wife...well she has all the symptoms. I was wondering...is this treatment some sort of tonic?"

"Oh no sir," Dr. Livingston said, while thinking. Yes! The ad. Finally some good news at last. "it isn't a tonic at all, but science. Magnetics. Electrics. The latest techniques thanks to Tesla and Edison sir."

"Electrics you say?" Mr. Johnson said. "Is it safe?"

"Of course. And effective." She had him. She just knew it.

"How much is the cost?" Mr. Johnson asked.

"Five dollars a treatment," Dr. Livingston said. She would be able to pay part of the rent on her office.

"That's awfully steep," Mr. Johnson said. "How much for half a treatment?"

Cheap bastard! How much for half a leg? Or arm? Half a case of measles?

"Sir, melancholia is a very serious condition as you probably already know, else you wouldn't be here today," Dr. Livingston said. "Besides, it is guaranteed. If you aren't satisfied, the next visit is free. That's like paying for half a treatment."

"Okay..." Mr. Johnson dug in his wallet and handed the receptionist a five from a fat clip of many larger bills. "I'll need a receipt."

He smiled as she bent over to write out the receipt, and smiled even wider when he gave her ass a good feeling up. The receptionist was older than he preferred, but she had an impudent tone that deserved a good feeling up.

"Sir!" Dr. Livingston gasped with outrage, as she spun around. She was tempted to give him a good slapping, but she stayed her impulse and her hand kept a death grip on the money he had given her. She swallowed her pride and handed him the receipt.

'What an ass!' Dr. Livingston thought as she locked the door behind him. Well, at least she had five dollars and her first patient. After advertising so many medical services for weeks with not the first client, this was a welcome change. But a client on the first day of her new ad for melancholia. Who would have thought?

Speaking of melancholia....

Dr. Livingston bent down and removed her panties and sat down on her examination table, a foot going into each of the stirrups. She turned the knob up to two and attached a small round attachment to the cord. It began to buzz. She touched it to her clit and began to make small circles with it.

That bastard! He had felt her up like she was a nothing...a nobody. Not a doctor. Not with the respect she deserved. But the buzzing probe took all those thoughts away. Replaced them with a welcome tingling.

It was her own invention. Well, the attachments were anyway. They were using the electrics in France when she left, but it was by accident she had touched it to her sex. Shocking! But then she thought....hmmm...I can use this. And with no clients and time on her hands...she did.

Moaning softy, she diddled her clit. Her hips thrust in response. Fuck. Oh fuck. The ad had been a last ditch effort. She could use the device on other women to treat their melancholia. It was better than tonics. At least it was for her. Her thighs began to tremble. She was gushing on the table. If only...if only it wasn't so messy.

Then she had another thought. She picked up a small bowl from a nearby table and sat it beneath her cunt. That should do it. She reached back and turned other knob to 1 and inserted the device in her very aroused sex.

Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck! The vibrations made her insides feel aflame. Her breath became ragged. Her thick thighs wouldn't stay still. The trembled. They clenched. They spread.

That smug rich asshole that had so infuriated her was quickly forgotten. There was only sensation. And heat. And there was something else now...an occasional spark of electricity that made her cunt spasm and buck. Made it clamp down on the small rod every two seconds.

Her hips thrust. Her cunt twitched. She held her breasts tightly with her hands and let the device work its magic, occasionally bending down to lick a hard thick nipple.

"Yes..yes...oh yes...." she moaned. And soon she was bucking, spasming, and twitching in pleasure. And a hot sweet...welcome ...orgasm.

When she was able, she turned the dials back to zero and pulled the rod from her sex. She looked in the bowl and crinkled her nose in response. She wondered how much it was...

She poured the contents into a small bottle. Hmmm....five teaspoons. Not bad. Not bad at all. She left the bottle on top of the device, took out a book and began to read. Soon after, she unrolled her bed and laid down. It hurt her back. And she was cold. After two hours of tossing and turning, she finally went to sleep.

The next morning, Cindy Johnson heard a knock on the door.

Who could it be at this hour she wondered? She was surprised when she opened the door. An older woman stood next to a large case on wheels.

"I'm not interested...." Cindy said. Although in truth she was. On the side of the case in large letters were the words, Electric. Magnetic. Miraculous.

"I'm not selling anything dear," Dr. Livingston said. "Your husband did tell you about the appointment he scheduled you for, didn't he?"

No he didn't. Damn it! He didn't tell her much of anything. But Cindy didn't tell the woman that. It would be improper.

Frank didn't say much to her these days. No, I love yous. No, I'll by home late tonight. Her mouth set into a frown as she thought of how he ignored her. Yet, she couldn't tell any of this to this woman standing at her door.

So, instead she answered," Of course he did...I - I just lost track of time."

"Be a dear and help me with my case," Dr. Livingston said.

On the bright side, it looked like Cindy was going to finally be able to learn what was inside that intriguing case. She couldn't help but be a bit disappointed when it was finally opened. It was all knobs, cords, and strange looking metal shapes, she could make head nor tales of.

"What is it that my husband was interested in purchasing?" Cindy asked.

"Purchasing?" Dr. Livingston said. "Oh you misunderstand my purpose here. He's sent me here to treat your melancholia."

"Melancholia?" Cindy said, holding her hand to her chest, now not sure of this woman, her husband...and now herself.

"But of course..." Dr. Livingston said, and soon the young housewife found herself hustled into the living room and before she could argue, the examination had begun.

"Open dear." Dr. Livingston inserted the tongue depressor in the young newlywed's mouth, giving a cursory glance at her throat, but mainly to shut her up. "Say ahhh..."

"Have you had symptoms of weakness? Irritability? Difficulty sleeping? Please remove your blouse so I can check your heart."

It was all going so very fast for Cindy. Cindy soon found her blouse and brazier had been removed, and a cold stethoscope applied to her chest. It all seemed so professional, much like her other visits with the doctor, yet she was suspicious. Who ever heard of a woman doctor? Cindy could feel her nipples stiffening due to the cold metal of the stethoscope.

"Deep breath in..." Dr. Livingston said. "Now release. Again."

Dr. Livingston put the stethoscope back in the case. "Very good. Other than the melancholia, you seem in good physical condition. Now I need you to remove the rest of your clothing."

"Excuse me?" Cindy asked, clearly uncomfortable with this new request.

"The rest," Dr. Livingston said. "Look girl, I don't have time for dramatics, I have another client was a broken leg I need to get to."

A broken leg? The doctor obviously had important things to be doing. People with actual ailments, and Cindy didn't really think she had melancholia. She didn't want this unwanted attention. She certainly didn't want someone to suffer additional pain while she procrastinated with the doctor. And then the young housewife found herself obeying the older woman's orders. Taking off her skirt, girdle, garters, stockings, and panties.

Oh this girls a looker, Dr. Livingston thought to herself as she watched the timid housewife disrobe. Her body was lean and young. Her hair was strawberry blonde. Her eyes big and blue. Freckles covered her cheeks, breasts, and shoulders. Her nipples were the pinkest pink she had ever seen. A young housewife. Married only a year and already her husband wasn't satisfied. Such a shame. Well, there was no help for that, it was five dollars and Dr. Livingston needed the money desperately.

Dr. Livingston took out a metal attachment, this one a long metal wand and attached it the the wire. She turned the second knob to 2. That should do the job.

"Tell me if this is uncomfortable," Dr. Livingston said and then she touched the tip to Cindy's pretty ear.

"Ouch!" Cindy jerked back reflexively. She'd never experienced such a sensation, except maybe when she had hit her funny bone against something.

"Curious," Dr. Livingston said. "Was even this low setting uncomfortable to you?"

"Not uncomfortable," Cindy said. "Just surprising. The metal is cold."

But she had lied. She wanted to know something first before answering truthfully. "Why? Is it an indication of something?"

"Melancholia dear," Dr. Livingston said. "But you have nothing to fear since you merely reacted to the cold. Nothing to fear at all."

The wand was waving menacingly. Cindy tensed in anticipation, watched as it neared her neck only to change course and move to her breast, before finally settling on her lean stomach.

"Oh!" she gasped as her insides danced.

"Still too cold," Dr. Livingston asked, then warming the probe in her hand. Surreptitiously switching off the juice before doing so.

The housewife watched as the doctor held the probe that caused her such distress with no apparent problem. Then the probe stuck out again, this time sending a shock to her thigh.

"Perhaps you are ticklish?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Do you have sensitivity to being tickled?"

"Yes doctor," Cindy lied, feeling more and more unsure of herself by the moment. Did she have melancholia? And if she did, was she in danger? But she had already lied, and now she couldn't bring herself to admit the truth.

"We can't have you jumping and giggling whenever I touch you," Dr. Livingston said. "You could hurt yourself or damage my equipment. Down on the floor with you Mrs Johnson. On all fours."

"What for?" Cindy asked. "Are you sure that's proper?"

"Of course I'm sure," Dr. Livingston said. "I'm your doctor."

"But...but..." the young housewife stammered as the doctor guided her down on all fours.

"Sush dear," Dr. Livingston said. "This won't take but a moment. Put your hands in here."

And then she held open a loop she had quickly fashioned from the young woman's stockings.

"What is this for?" Cindy said, even as her wrists were cinched tight and tied to a sofa leg.

"This isn't necessary doctor," Cindy plead. "I'll hold still. I promise."

"If I had a dime for every time someone said that, I'd be a rich woman," Dr. Livingston casually replied, as she secured the housewife's ankle to the other leg of the sofa with her scarf. Finally she looped the girl's other ankle with her stockings and began pulling the leg over to a nearby chair.

"Madam I implore you," Cindy said angrily as she began to struggle uselessly. She had been holding her in temper, but at last it flared. However by now it was far too late. "Untie me this very instant. My husband is on the council. I'll....I'll have you thrown out of this city on your ass - doctor or no doctor."

"There's only one problem with that," Dr. Livingston said. The first problem was that Dr. Livingston had nothing to lose, but she didn't mention that detail. She chose another tact.

"Your husband wanted this examination. He's quite worried about your mental state. He described your symptoms of melancholia to me perfectly. Now, that doesn't mean you have the disease, but I would be remiss if I didn't test you thoroughly."

The doctor turned the knob up to four this time and proceeded to work. She touched the probe here and there. On less sensitive skin first, before moving on to other areas. A soft pale bottom. The small of a well-formed back. A toned lean stomach. A trembling thigh.

"Just tickling still?" Dr. Livingston asked. "No discomfort? No strange sensations?"

The doctor watched the young housewife's wild eyes. Watched her attention fixate on the probe. Watched her face grimace as it approached. Watched her steel herself. Then watched her young perfect body spasm delightfully from the effects of the electricity even as she mentally tried her best to resist. Watched her test her bonds. Listened to the young woman lie over and over again. Until at last the probe moved slowly toward her sex.

"No..." Cindy moaned. "Oh God...please..."

"What dear?" Dr. Livingston said. "Feel okay still? We are almost done with the test setting and then we'll try it for real next time."

Test setting? God, what would the other feel like. Cindy's tongue loosened.

"....I feel it doctor. It isn't tickling at all," she admitted. "It feels like a harsh tingling. Like a hit to my funny bone. Only it isn't on my funny bone at all."

"Oh dear," Dr. Livingston said. "This is just what I was afraid of."

"Of what?" Cindy didn't like the tone of the doctor's voice. If the doctor was afraid, then Cindy was very very afraid.

"Melancholia dear," Dr. Livingston said convincingly. "One of the worst cases I've ever seen."

"Really?" Cindy whispered. "I don't feel bad. No more than most..." But now she wasn't sure. She had been feeling a little worse than usual lately. Tired. Irritable.

"The test doesn't lie dear," Dr. Livingston said. "But don't worry, there is a treatment. A new one thanks to advances in science. One that I'm sure you'll like much better than that dreadful test."

Dr. Livingston was busy unscrewing the wand from the cord. She looked in the chest and pulled out an new device. This one had a handle about as big around as her thumb and a small ribbed ball on the end. She turned the electrics knob back to zero and turned the vibration knob to one.

She aimed the new attachment at the young housewife's sensual lips, only to have the girl pull away reflexively.

"Please..." Cindy begged. "Don't..."

"Sush...." Dr. Livingston said. "I promised you'd like this..."

She touched the probe to Cindy's swan-like neck. The girl gasped and jerked back. Then realized that the doctor was correct. It didn't hurt. She held still while the probe traced its way down her back. It felt rather nice. She didn't start struggling again until the probe made its way lower and lower. To her bottom. Dear Lord...between her cheeks.

Oh God! What was this dreadful woman up to? Cindy struggled against her bonds.

"Wait!" Cindy gasped. "What are you doing?"

"Why I'm going to stimulate your melancholia gland," Dr. Livingston said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. All the while honing in on the young woman's sexy little pussy.

"I said wait dammit!" Cindy shouted. Goddamnit! The woman wasn't listening at all. Worse, Cindy couldn't do anything about it. "First ahhh.. tell me...ah..damn you woman...where is oh!...where is the gland?"

But Cindy knew already. Then it was too late. For the wand was now inside her. Humming. Vibrating. Making her tingly. The metal felt so cold. Yet still it was making her hot.

"It's inside you dear," Dr. Livingston said, as she moved the probe in and out Cindy's perfectly pink pussy. "In here. Haven't you noticed how when you are stimulated here, your mood improves? Or how when you have you monthlies, you feel absolutely horrid?"

"Yes..." Cindy gasped. But this was her sex. Hers. And now this horrid woman had something inside her. Doing things that had never been done before. Not by her husband. Not even by her. Things that made her feel as if she were losing control. And Cindy hated losing control. She closed her eyes and tried to fight these new feelings.

"Do you have a bowl dear?" Dr. Livingston asked. "Your gland was quite swollen and making a mess of your floor."

"The...the kitchen..." Cindy said and looked down between her legs. One drop and then another and another. Oh God...she was making a mess. She contracted her sex only to have it grip the vibrating beast inside her and drip all the more. "Gods...hurry woman...ah..damn...damn you...that rug is expensive..."

The doctor rummaged through the kitchen and Cindy looked down helplessly. She had always noticed that her sheets were always wet after sex. She had assumed it was her husband's fault..but now she was beginning to suspect it was hers. Was the woman going to take all day?

Then there was a knock on the door. Could it be her husband? He would put a stop to this madness. She almost yelled out Frank, but then realized he wouldn't have knocked. Then she saw the doctor going to the door. God no!

"Wait!" Cindy shouted. "Ahhh..please..ah...please dont' answer it."

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Curly-haired chick in pink does a solo masturbation scene

Duration: 8:09
Stephany does it again! This curly-haired hottie somehow makes all the naughtiest things seem natural and even innocent/vulnerable. Stephany wears a hot pink nightie, she decides to check herself out in the mirror. She loves what she's seeing, so she decides to undress and masturbate for a bit. Stephany looks like she fell in love with her dildo. It brings so much joy, so much pleasure to her -- it's not even funny. Stephany, once again, pleasures her tender and oh-so-wet pussy on camera. A must-see!


tagFetishBloody Good Boy

Bloody Good Boy

I stood in his bathroom, brushing my teeth and thinking about how mirrors in California were much larger than on the East Coast. Blake moved into this apartment two days after I arrived for my ten-day visit. It was my input that decided this place and it was based entirely on the abundant wall-to-wall mirrors in the bathroom and bedroom. As a city girl, this is something to kill for though as a Californian it seems as standard as a working sink.

I examined my naked body in the mirror, wondering how he saw me. My face has always been a great asset. I have incredibly large, auburn eyes that angle up on the sides with long, dramatically arching eyebrows. My high cheekbones are splashed with freckles and my thin nose turns up girlishly, just slightly, at the end. My jaw is elegant, with a narrow, heart shaped chin. My mouth is rather small, with full lips that flush and swell with excitement. While my face is rather young looking, my body is entirely womanly. I stand about 5'8 with an exceptionally toned physique. Being physical has always been a theme in my life, from my early sexuality to my almost limitless drive for running, biking and swimming. My body seems to compulsively seek challenge and stimulation. The results are impressively toned arms and shoulders, a tight stomach that curves in around my waist, flared, well-muscled hips and thick, firm legs. I am one of those rainbow children, a progressive blend of West African, British, Central-American Indian, German, Southern Italian and French. My skin is a rich brown with an alluring pink undertone that can be seen in the flush of my cheeks. My dark hair has always been a turn on for men; thick, giant curls and wild manner. The collective is erratic, but each curl is soft and yielding. I usually keep it in a lose knot, up off of my neck but tonight I let it down, cascading over my thin, strong shoulders.

Blake was putting away some of his things in the other cabinets, and giving me sidelong glances. I could see him examining my breasts, watching the way they fell as I bent over slightly to keep the toothpaste dripping from my mouth in the sink. While I am lean, my natural shape is very curvy. My waist is an impressive 25 inches, while my hips stay a womanly 37 thanks to a well-formed ass. My breasts are very full, and extend wide across my small ribs to a pleasant 32DD. For those of you who don't understand, the letters have to do with the number of inches greater across the breasts than under the breasts, so mine are not unwieldy only full. Because of their size, however, they have a soft, womanly hang to them, which I have found to drive men crazy. I adore watching men's jaws drop when they realize I don't wear padded bras and all the size and shape they assess over my clothes is made real in the flesh.

Blake came to stand next to me, looking at me in the mirror and before him, running his large hands down my side. Blake is the youngest guy, in relation to myself, that I have ever fucked. We were both 23 at the time, but I am five months older exactly. A silly thing to be on my mind, but it spurred fantasies that I was an older woman allowing myself to be seduced by this young boy. But Blake was hardly a boy. Standing about six feet tall, he was a prep school dreamboat. Broad shoulders and heavy well proportioned pecs tapered into the tiniest waist I had ever seen. Having spent years sailing, his arms rippled with thick, naturally built muscles. This was not a gym rat, but a body built for real strength and agility. His hips were narrow and an achingly beautiful alabaster, giving way to long, well muscled legs and narrow, well formed feet. His cock was heavy and thick, just like his body. It stood strong and firm from his body, above heavy balls of dark pink skin. He gently pressed it into my hips and I could feel the thickness and heat of it as I lazily moved the toothbrush in and out, across my mouth.

Women are not taught to appreciate male beauty in the way men are guided to look at women, but Blake is every aspect of beautiful. On a base level, I ached for him to take me over. I wanted to be overwhelmed by this beautiful sailor. But I also wanted to destroy him. A well-mannered boy, brushing his neat, shinning brown hair, wearing his clean pajama pants and freshly cleared glasses... I wanted to corrupt his sense of order. Blake is extremely orderly, a Mama's boy. I am decidedly exotic, to be sure, and more than a little erratic. His approach to me early on was respectful, open and honest. Once I knew he was interested in me, I thrust my hand down his pants and bit into his neck. I enjoyed this sense control.

Blake's eye narrowed as he began to shift his cock slightly into the meat of my hips. He stepped carefully out of his pajama pants, leaving my side for a moment to fold them neatly and place them on the bench. He extended his hands to caress the outside of my hips and looked intrigued at the sight of the little keyhole space between the bottom of my ass and the top of my legs. I bent over just a little to give him a slightly better view of my pussy, already puffy and wet from the sensation of his examination of me.

I had begun my period that day and assumed sex would turn to a compulsive act of release. I was happy that he was at least enjoying my body visually. Blake took one hand and ran the pads of two fingers along the slit visible now from my bent over position. I could feel the mess of wetness and a little blood spread around the outer lips of cunt. I moan and bit down on my toothbrush just slightly. His haunting green eyes caught mine in the mirror and he smirked condescendingly. It was disarming to be put on the defensive by this polite young man. Keeping his eyes locked into my face, challenging me to not look away, he flicked his finger across my clit.

"Do you like that?" He asked, his voice lower than I had ever heard it before. I nodded, and put one hand on the sink to brace myself. I shocked by his suddenly dominating attitude. The pink and white handle of my toothbrush still braced in my teeth, my full lips wrapped around it. "Good," he said, finally looking down to grab my hips with determination and position his body behind me. Blake took his thick cock in his hand and ran the head around the wet mess he had made of my pussy. There was little thought or purpose, just a swirling motion to spread further the juice and blood. The lips of my pussy moved and folded easily, soaked with anticipation. Soon he was almost diabolically smacking the wetness on my cunt and thighs, challenging me to be a good girl and take his small abuses. I spread open my legs a more for him to get better access and he let out a deep sigh at the feeling of heat released from between my legs.

Blake let go of his cock for a moment and inserted one strong finger into my cunt. I have always been a tight, narrow girl despite my full thighs and wide hips. "Fuck..." he moaned as he pushed against the muscles on the inside of my body with the length of his forefinger. Every time we fucked, it was a trial to fit his dick into me. The cramps and swelling from my period only intensified this. I looked up at him from the mirror, watching as his face angled down to my crotch and his hand guided his rigid cock towards the tiny, swollen hole between my thighs. I reached to take the toothbrush out of my mouth, which he must have seen from the corner of his eye as he smacked my ass hard in disapproval. "Oh Jesus Christ," he moaned, forcing the head of his cock through the narrow opening of my pussy. Placing his hands on my waist, wiping blood on my smooth, brown skin, he got ready to push the rest of his body into me.

"Are you ready?" he asked. I saw my cheeks bright pink in the mirror. My eyes watered in pain from the stretching, and my face betrayed a slight embarrassment from my blood beginning to drip down my legs. Biting harder on the toothbrush that Blake would not allow me to remove, the length of his dick pushed apart the flexing muscles inside my body. "Ugh," he groaned deep and raw, until his pelvis was nuzzled hard into my ass. My knees weak, he moved his hands under the front of my hips to hold me up.

As he drew his cock out, it was coated in blood and brought forth a small spill of bright red. It hit the floor and the sink, and began to spread out just slightly. Seeing this only seemed to spur him on. Blake pushed back inside this time with less consideration, and withdrew fast as if to pull out more blood from my body. As the watery, womanly substance found its way down my legs and onto the sink, Blake seemed fascinated and his excitement and enthusiasm increased.

My even, dark skin was being painted in this taboo ink. My wild hair fell down one side of my body, to reveal the drastic curve of my waist. My mouth flooded with toothpaste, as I tried to keep from gagging at the deep thrusts. Blake found a rhythm, taunting the tight entrance of my cunt with the thick head of his cock and was determined to not just fuck me but to experiment with me.

Suddenly leaned his body over me, cupping my breasts and putting his face into my neck. "Keep still," he moaned. I had learned that Blake liked to play a game with me where he would physically and verbally attempt to keep me still while I thrashed about. Usually this was playful and set me as the leader but this was not a request, this was an order. He had me vulnerable. I shrieked into my toothbrush, beginning to feel a little suffocated from having to keep my mouth closed around it. "Stop it, Sweetheart..." he said as he rammed his dick as far as he could get it, pushing hard against my cervix and carving out any space he could find. Having discovered this space, he began a pounding that served to remind me who was in charge. I might be alluring and brave, but Blake was stronger.

My thrashing and writhing became fevered and frantic. I was getting nervous about my mouth being full and my pussy was fluttering and aching to cum. Suddenly, Blake leaned back and withdrew his cock allowing another large spill of blood that stopped him momentarily. He could see this little mess of red on the floor, and feel it under his feet. He took my delicate chin in his hand and withdrew the toothbrush. It was a relief although I couldn't spit with his hand holding my jaw closed. He kissed my closed mouth and picked up my lithe body. "We are going to get you turned around, ok?" He said as he guided my ass to sit on the edge of the sink. "There you go," he said in a sadistically soothing voice, opening up my legs for a full view of my pussy.

He guided his blood stained cock back into the wet, quivering mess of my pussy, still grippingly tight. I could see his white skin marked with blood. He was getting ready to cum, I could tell. His body tensed and his movements became purposeful. My mouth, filled with white froth, could not stay closed. My small mouth parted and a trace of foam escaped my lips. He drank me in; long, tan, my flat stomach folding just slightly at the waist, my full breasts bouncing with every thrust, my hair falling back behind me, soft tendrils tickling my shoulders and framing my pretty, animalistic face, my strong, lean legs parted and marked up with my own cum and blood. He became faster and faster in his motions, pushing harder and touching the wetness around my cunt with his hands. I angled my pussy towards his fingers, attempting to get some stimulation for my little clit. Slowly, and teasingly, he let his finger find my tiny button. He rubbed it expertly, while massaging it from the inside with the head of his cock.

I bore down, clutching the sink, and allowed him to take me to an orgasm. Leaning back, detached from my jolting movements, he filled and emptied my cunt; forcing it to stretch and tighten up, flutter in excitement from the rubbing and pressing of my clit. The blinding heat of my cum came on quickly and my body flexed hard and he expertly thrust his thickness into my spasming canal - forcing it open when all it wanted to do was tighten up.

I moaned, attempting to wipe my lips of foam and begging him with my eyes to spit it out. Suddenly he grew dark, "Do you want something?" he said as he jammed his cock into me. My eyes widened and I nodded pleadingly. "Well, what do you want? Tell me." I opened my lips just a little to show the mouthful of toothpaste. "I don't understand, I can't hear you." I whined and opened my mouth further, allowing some to drip down my chin. "Well, if you want something you are going to have to ask for it. I would love to help you but I just can't understand." I pouted and tilted my head back, holding in as much of the liquid as possible. Blake kept his eyes on the tediously balanced white stuff and he thrust his cock into me hard and purposeful

I could feel him getting to that last stage of an erection, where his cock is entirely completely solid and his body begins to tense. "You poor girl, you are going to be a mess..." the blood was everywhere and my face was dripping with little bits of white paste. Digging his hands into my hips he pushed into those tight spaces that do not stretch easily and groaned fiercely. In the last moments, he pulled his throbbing, soaked cock from between my legs and let his cum spray my cheeks and hair, down my chest and stomach. I stayed on the end of the sink, legs spread, wet with girl juice, blood, cum and sweat.

"Go ahead and spit that out," he said as he began to pull some tissues out to clean up.

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bySmallPond84© 3 comments/ 24097


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