Experiments in Control

Experiments in Control

z119z

© 2014 by the author

(Open your mind to me. You feel so good when you open your mind to me. You love to submit to me. You love to obey me. You feel so good when you submit to me. You feel so good when you obey me.)

Strictly speaking, I no longer need to put Roberto into a trance using traditional means. He has come to associate my voice so strongly with submission and obedience that I could recite the weather report and his capacity to resist me would drain away. When he encounters my words, spoken or written, the desire to submit totally overwhelms his mind. He shimmers with the need to please me. But it never hurts to remind Roberto not only that he is under my control but also that he loves being under my control. Besides, that doglike stare of devotion he gives me at such moments, the way he licks his lips in his hunger to obey, the trembling of his body in its eagerness to carry out my orders—well, control is an aphrodisiac.

As soon as Roberto enters the room, I hit him with the obedience mantra. Before I finish the first sentence, his face grows slack, his eyes blink and unfocus, and his body slumps into a posture of submission.

“Just relax, Roberto. Your body is so heavy. So heavy. It’s so hard to stand up.”

Roberto falls to his knees and then to all fours. His head droops down between his shoulders.

“Come here.”

Roberto crawls toward the couch on which I am sitting. With each lurch forward, he finds it more and more difficult to hold his body up, and he sinks lower and lower. When he reaches me, his body is so heavy and he is so exhausted from the effort to move it that he lies prone on the floor, his right arm outstretched to touch my ankle. His chest and stomach are pressed against the floor, and his legs are splayed apart. For a second his feet come to rest on the toes of his tennis shoes. Then they slowly droop sideways. His breathing is labored, and he struggles to heave a great sigh.

This evidence of the strength of my control over him is so arousing. His efforts to reach me send a thrill of pleasure through me. I quiver in delight. My cock even gets a little hard. The way his body is displayed on the floor and the knowledge that his mind is filled with an irresistible urge to obey me are almost like triggers for my pleasure centers. It’s odd. That’s exactly the sort of reaction that I instill in my subjects to reward them for obedience.

“Good boy. That’s a very good boy,” I purr.

It’s so easy to control another man through sexual rewards. A gurgle of pleasure rises in Roberto’s throat. I’ve trained him to respond that way. Whenever I tell him what a good boy he is, he feels a rush of physical satisfaction at pleasing me. If I repeat “good boy” ten times in succession, he will have an orgasm. With the right training, that’s all it takes. Two small words, and I am in control.

I lean forward to look at him. He is lying with his face turned sideways and his right cheek pressed into the carpet. His mouth is open just a crack. He is drooling. When he sees me watching him, he closes his eyes in peace. He knows he is safe and secure now that he is with me. He is where he belongs again. He is just as ready to be controlled as I am ready to control him.

Control is an addiction, both for the hypnotist and for his subject. The easiest way to make a subject totally obedient is to instill in his mind the absolute, unquestioned—indeed unquestionable—conviction that being submissive and obeying the hypnotist’s orders are sources of intense pleasure. The hypnotist rewards the subject for obedience and through those rewards creates a hunger in the subject for even more control, for more opportunities to submit and obey. The process requires patience—lots of patience. Even with the most susceptible minds, you can’t achieve complete control without a lot of work. I always start with something simple, something the subject wants to do anyway. I gradually create a habit in the subject of following my suggestions. It’s the only way to build a foundation for the submission and obedience that will come through training.

(Patience. I must have patience. If I make my move too quickly, he will resist.)

When I started with Roberto, he didn’t even know that I was hypnotizing him. He lives across the hall from me. I invited him over for a drink one night after work. We hit it off and became friends. He fell into the habit of stopping by for a drink after work or watching a game with me on the weekends. One night he mentioned that he had been having trouble sleeping, and I offered to show him some relaxation techniques that worked for me. That first night, I had him close his eyes and imagine that he was sunbathing on a beach of warm golden sand and listening to the waves rise and fall. I had him picture in his mind’s eye the incoming waves frothing and foaming up over the sand and then retreating, the wet sand drying out as the water sinks into it as the wave recedes. It was, I suggested to him, extremely relaxing. He felt secure, comfortable, sleepy. Roberto never suspected that he had just taken the first step on the path to total control.

From helping him to sleep, I moved on to exercises in increasing his focus and concentration—all in the name of improving his performance at the office. I helped motivate him to exercise and eat better. Oh, I was such a good friend to Roberto. I was so trustworthy, and he became so trusting. He got so much pleasure out of relaxing with me and joining me in my nightly “meditations.” For him, it became the perfect way to end every day.

(Tendrils, small tendrils of control, emerging nightly in my words and drifting into your unsuspecting ears, infiltrate your subconscious and take root there. Nothing major at first. Just a hint that you enjoy being with me. You receive such pleasure from listening to my voice and opening your mind to suggestions, allowing it to be guided along paths that make you feel so good.)

All the tests for a deep trance state come back positive. I tell him that a bunch of balloons is tied around his left wrist and lifting it into the air, and his arm drifts lazily upward, the hand loose and limp, drooping from the wrist. His arm floats, bobbing up and down in the gentle breeze stirring the balloons. I tell him he is cold, and he shivers. I tell him he is hot, and he sweats. I tell him his right arm is totally insensitive, and a pin pushed into his bicep elicits no response. He goes so deep he cannot remember what it is that I say to him. He awakes feeling great and refreshed, and that feels so good that he grows eager to have those feelings again.

Then the night comes when I allow myself to guide Roberto to a more erotic state. “You are deeply asleep. It is early morning. You are dreaming. In your dream you are lying on your back, floating in a boat on a small lake. The boat rocks gently from side to side. It is so restful. In the distance you hear the sound of a gentle breeze stirring the leaves of the trees that line the lake, and the morning calls of birds in the trees. It is so restful. It feels so good. The sheets and blankets press down on your body. You continue to dream. It is early morning. Soon you will wake up feeling refreshed, feeling wide awake. As happens to you most mornings, you will have a semi. It feels so good and so natural.”

I continue talking about his dream for several more minutes. I don’t mention his morning wood again. I don’t need to. The fabric of his jeans has visibly tightened over his swelling groin. When I bring him out of the trance, Roberto is a bit disoriented at first. He is still partly in his dream. Without thinking about it, he reaches a hand into his jeans and adjusts his cock to relieve the pressure on it. It quickly deflates.

(Patience. I must be patient if I am to control you. Bit by bit, each night a new suggestion. Increments in control so small that you do not notice them.)

Each night I introduce another association between being in the trance and feeling aroused. Another month, and the association is so strong that Roberto has an erection throughout each trance. He feels no embarrassment about this. And when I suggest that he will find the sessions much more enjoyable if he takes his clothes off, he does so. His cock is stiff and hard and stands up from his belly. From there it is but a short step to making Roberto touch himself while in trance, then to stroke himself, and finally to ejaculate. Then we move on to ejaculating on command and to ejaculating only on command. Oh, Roberto enjoys that so much. He is learning to derive pleasure from submission and obedience. It is an addiction. He does not want to resist. He cannot imagine resisting. I become almost as aroused as he does at his submission and obedience.

My control over him has grown so strong that he has forgotten what it was like to be independent. He does not even register my control as control. To him it is simply the natural state of being. I speak, he obeys. Obedience has become an orgasm.

(Can you imagine how erotic it is to achieve that degree of obedience and submission? Not for you. For me. To control you so completely that you mindlessly obey, that you think being in a trance is your normal life and that your everyday life is a prison that you want to escape. Submission and obedience are your refuges from the harsh realities of the daily grind, your forms of freedom. Only in trance can you be what you truly are.)

But that’s not enough. No matter how much I demonstrate to myself that I control a subject, I have to prove that my control is complete. Tonight I have devised an experiment.

“Stand up and undress, Roberto.”

He complies. He unlaces his shoes and impatiently toes them off. He pulls his T-shirt off, revealing his now hairless chest. He unbuttons his jeans and slides them down over his thighs and calves, and then steps out of them. His underpants and socks join the heap of clothes on the floor. He stands before me waiting, his head bent forward in submission.

“Turn around.”

I stand up and encircle Roberto’s waist with the black leather belt of the harness, pulling it tight so that it rests firmly on his hip bones and then cinching it. I snap the codpiece onto the front and then pull the strap between his legs and up between his butt cheeks. I pull on it until it fits snugly and then attach it to the belt.

The codpiece is so tight that it flattens Roberto’s cock and balls. A man who was not so deeply in trance or so well trained would complain. At the very least he would feel discomfort, perhaps even pain. But Roberto is no longer that sort of man. He likes to serve me, he lives to submit to me, he loves to be used by me. He has no questions or concerns about what I am doing. For him, all that matters is that I am doing it.

I cup my hand over his groin and press down firmly, pressing his cock and balls against his body. “You feel wonderful. You feel only pleasure at the thought of serving me. You feel only joy at the thought of submitting to me. You feel only gratitude for the opportunity to obey.”

He smiles in response. “Yes, John.”

“Good boy. You are being a very good boy. Good boy.” I grasp his right wrist and lift his hand.

Attached to the front of the codpiece is a flesh-colored dildo. The base rests against Roberto’s abdomen just above his groin in direct contact with his skin. The “balls” and the “cock” emerge from a hole in the codpiece. Because of reinforcements in the codpiece, the dildo is in the “erect” position. It is realistically molded—perhaps from life. The cock is cut, and prominent veins run up and down its underside. It is eight inches long and over six inches in diameter.

I guide Ricardo’s hand to the dildo and wrap his fingers around it. He grasps it eagerly.

“You are very horny and very aroused,” I say. “Your cock is ultra-sensitive today. Every movement of your hand and fingers sends waves of pleasure surging through your body.”

This is the first time I have experimented with the harness. I am interested in how Ricardo will respond to it and the dildo. I intentionally do not tell him that the dildo is his cock. I wait to see how he reacts to it and how he identifies it.

His fingers explore his new cock tentatively. He spreads his index finger up and encounters the flange around the head. He moves his left hand and closes it around the head, touching it carefully. He gasps. A slight, surprised inrush of air.

I have been holding my breath waiting to see what Roberto will do, and I too gasp in pleasure. “You are very big today, much bigger than usual,” I say.

He nods.

“You are very aroused and very horny.”

He whimpers.

“Your cock is ultra-sensitive today.”

He moans.

Roberto grasps the dildo with both hands now. Gone is the tentativeness he exhibited earlier. He strokes his new cock a few times. And then again with more enthusiasm. The only sensations his mind can actually be receiving are from the movements of the dildo against his groin, the tugging of the harness against his body, and the feel of the dildo in his hands. Yet he tilts his chin back, exposing his throat. He rotates his head from side to side. He bites his lower lip between his teeth. He licks at his lips with the tip of his tongue. He grunts in pleasure and he cups the balls of the dildo in his left hand and squeezes and pulls on them.

“Do not hurry, Roberto. There is no need to rush things. We have plenty of time. Why don’t you spit on your hands and then stroke yourself. That will make you feel even better.”

He lifts his right hand and spits into his palm. When he resumes stroking the dildo, he squeals with pleasure.

“That feels much better, doesn’t it?” I prompt.

“Oh, yes, much better.”

(Patience. I must be patient.)

His legs shudder with the efforts of containing the feelings coursing through his body. He thrusts his hips forward. The dildo points directly at me now.

I lean forward to examine it. It is about a foot away from my face. It is as if Roberto is offering it to me, wanting me to play with it, maybe even suck on it. It is so realistic in appearance. In the dim lighting, with my eyes partially closed, it looks like a real cock protruding through a hole in a leather jockstrap.

“Would you like me to stroke you?” I ask. It will be interesting to see how much his reactions depend on the sensory feedback he is receiving through his hands.

“Oh, yes, please.” He nods eagerly. He knows that my fingers on his cock feel ten times better than his own.

(No one else makes you feel so good. It makes you feel so good to please me. You love to please me. It makes you feel so good.)

Roberto watches as I snap the cap off the bottle of lube and spread a glob on my fingertips. I hold it up so that he can see the lotion glisten in the light.

(It is a magic lotion. You love the feel of the magic lotion on your skin. So cool. So smooth.)

“Hands behind your back.”

Roberto tilts his hips so that the dildo stands erect before me at about face level.

I touch the tip of the dildo with my fingers and then slide them slowly down his cock until the head is pressed tightly into my palm. I gently move the dildo back and forth. It is very realistic, hard but with a little give just like an erect penis. I trace the veins. I hold the balls in my left hand and twist my right hand around the head, paying particular attention to the piss slit and the flange.

Roberto holds his breath for about half a minute and then expels the air with a great groan. His legs tremble and then spasm. He collapses onto the floor. I pat the seat beside me and help him onto the couch as I continue to stroke the dildo.

He whimpers with pleasure and closes his eyes. He nestles his body closer to mine.

Roberto’s mind is using his memories of previous encounters to supply the sensations he is feeling. His own penis is flaccid and confined by the harness. What he “feels” is my hand stroking what he thinks is his engorged cock.

(That feels so good, doesn’t it? Good boy. You are such a good boy.)

It is remarkable how lifelike the dildo feels in my hand. I close my eyes for a few seconds as I stroke it. It is surprisingly pleasurable to stroke Roberto’s new cock. My hand glides over it, lingering on the ridges and veins. I make a circle with my thumb and forefinger and slide them slowly over the head and shaft. I play with it. I want to give Roberto this pleasure. Long, slow, patient strokes—not to make him cum, but enough to keep him hard and on the edge.

He is becoming so aroused. It is hard for him to hold back. He thrusts his cock against my hand. It is so well oiled from the lube and the pre-cum oozing from the slit that it moves easily. The power of his stroke takes me by surprise. His cock is so beautiful and strong. I gasp.

(You like that, don’t you? It makes you feel so good.)

I am becoming aroused. I did not expect to react this way. But the pressure of Roberto’s body against mine and the feel of his cock in my hands are exciting me. With my free hand, I unbutton my shirt and then shrug it off me. I slide my pants down and kick them onto the floor.

“You know,” I say, “I think your cock is so big today that you could suck it yourself. You’ve always wanted to suck yourself, haven’t you? We could both suck it together.”

Roberto nods enthusiastically.

I stand up and arrange his body so that he is lying on the couch. I grasp his ankles and pull his legs up and back. The head of his cock dangles an inch above his lips.

“You can reach it. Take your cock into your mouth and suck on it.”

The tip of his tongue snakes out and touches the tip of the dildo. An electric shock passes through Roberto. He licks his cock again, this time more slowly and deliberately. He is tasting the sensation of it. I pull his legs back a bit more and his lips close around the head of the cock.

He can take the head and the first inch or so of the shaft into his mouth. I watch as he experiments with sucking his own cock. It is so erotic to watch his lips close around the head and then suck it into his mouth. The head disappears and then reappears, over and over. In and out. In and out. Over and over. I can’t take my eyes off it.

I lean forward and lick the shaft, joining Roberto in worshipping his beautiful cock. I join him in moaning with the pleasure of servicing his cock.

 “Please,” I say, “I know you are excited. But please when you cum, do not swallow it. Please hold the cum in your mouth. Will you do that for me?”

He nods his head.

“Good boy. Good boy. Good boy. Good boy. Good boy.”

Roberto’s body quivers as he struggles to deep throat his cock. His arousal finds an echo in my body. I am so excited by his excitement.

“Good boy. Good boy. Good boy. Good boy. Good boy.”

His body heaves in orgasm as his cock ejaculates into his mouth. To judge from the motions of his body, there are three jets of cum followed by another two minor spasms.

I release his legs, and his body lies stretched out on the couch. His cheeks are distended with their load of cum. I kneel beside the couch and kiss him. He opens his mouth and feeds me his cum. I feed it back to him, our tongues mingling. We both make mewling sounds of pleasure.

“Relax,” I whisper to him. “Rest for a few minutes.”

                                                                                                   

(We can do better than that. Relax. Open your mind to me.)

Roberto’s right hand moves slowly down my back, tracing the bumps of the vertebrae with the tips of his fingers. He continues past the end of the spine into the crack between my buttocks. His fingers find my anus and begin to stroke it. With his other hand he unfastens the codpiece and pushes it aside. He guides my head toward his beautiful cock. My mouth opens and closes around it. I close my eyes and run my tongue up and down the shaft.

He removes his right hand from my ass. I hear the sound of the cap on the bottle of lube being snapped open and then the sound of lube being squirted out of the bottle. A few seconds later I feel the cold lube against my anus. I move my body so that Roberto can reach me without stretching.

(Relax. Just focus on sucking my cock and on my fingers entering you. That’s all you can think about. Suck my cock and make it nice and hard. Relax. Just focus on my cock and my fingers inside you.)

I love to suck Roberto’s cock. I love it when he fingers me.

The first finger feels so good. It reminds me of how empty I feel when Roberto is not here, how much I need Roberto inside me, inside my mouth, inside my ass, inside my body, inside my mind. I feel so incomplete and lost without him. I need him so much.

The second finger joins the first. Roberto pushes them in deeper and deeper. The movement is so steady, so insistent, so commanding, so hypnotic.

(Relax Just focus on my cock and my fingers.)

I whimper in pleasure and submission.

Only Roberto can make me feel so good. I relax. I suck. I drift in the mindlessness of obedience. His fingers gradually open me up. I must be patient. Robert will fuck me when I am ready for him.