I couldn’t stop thinking about hypnosis.

How well it worked on me. How strongly I was affected. How easily Tom took me in and out of trance. How powerless I’d felt, my mind ricocheting up and down on a bungee cord made of his words, my head lolling and rolling and drooling all over the place.

How much it’d turned me on.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about the other thing Tom mentioned, in the casual evening drinks that had followed our session, where we ended up having a bit of a debriefing. Three ciders deep, he let slip that this wasn’t just a hobby for him. It was his kink. It turned him on, to be able to mess with someone’s mind to such an extent.

Was it my kink, too, if I’d gotten aroused by being hypnotised? Was it an unusual reaction that wouldn’t repeat in future - or had I awakened something in myself?

The frequency with which I got myself off to the memories of that session in the ensuing weeks suggested the latter.

I kept playing his words over and over in my mind - his tipsy admission that there were other triggers and suggestions... spicier ones. He was never going to use them with us that day, because we hadn’t consented to that. But the notion that he’d at the very least imagined it hung unspoken in the air.

If another guy implied that he’d thought about putting me under some kind of sexual mind control, I’d probably have felt outraged, and grossed out. But Ruth and I both just blushed and giggled. Beneath the dominant, slightly sinister hypnotist persona he’d put on that afternoon, Tom was sweet, and harmless, and I couldn’t help feeling flattered - and flustered.

What were those spicier suggestions? He didn’t elaborate, too embarrassed by the little information he’d already revealed. Would he ever tell us any more? Would either of us dare to ask?

Would I ever work up the courage to suggest that we give them a try...?

***

As it turned out, I didn’t need to ask Tom what some of the spicier suggestions might be - after a little bit of independent research, I had a fairly good idea. Thank you, Internet.

Night after night, I started searching online for stuff about erotic hypnosis, both from people who’d experienced it and from those who practiced it. The more I found, the more I looked, going on a deep dive that consumed most of my evening and left me with plenty of images that filled my dreams. The blogs and Bluesky posts I read, the videos I saw - first on YouTube, and then, as I got more and more worked up, Xvideos and Spankbang...

Some were obviously faked, and some appeared to be real - or were at least realistic enough to keep me guessing. Not all of it turned me on - there were a few clips that just gave me the ick, and I noped away from them fairly sharp-ish. But the majority of what I found was intriguing and sexy, firing up my imagination and working enticing ideas and images into my increasingly wild fantasies...

At the same time, I was going to work every day and seeing Tom. We acted much the same as ever, friendly and professional in front of our colleagues and our students, as if nothing had changed. We messaged as often as we did before, keeping up our casual conversations on Whatsapp, both in group chats and private DMs. The topic of hypnosis rarely came up - except when one of us made the odd off-handed reference, once in a while. For instance, on an evening when I was struggling to get to sleep and was lying in bed on my phone (yeah, I know - smart move, Rain), I said to him, ‘if only there was someone who could help me get to sleep faster... ahahaha jk’.

Yeah, I know. Such a tease. If you ask me, I deserved to be brainwashed just for that.

With both of us making comments along those lines, I suppose it was only a matter of time before we had a more in-depth chat about hypnosis. We discussed our session again to start off, but I started to probe at him about the subject of hypnokink, and why it enticed him so much.

Tom Dexter: Idk i guess like the sense of power over someone, to be able to make them do whatever i want

Tom Dexter: But not in like a rpey way tho if that makes snese

Tom Dexter: Its hard to define the difference but there is one

Rain Jones: No no ofc i get ya

Tom Dexter: Its just super hot to me if someone willingly gives up all control and wants to just follow and obey,

Tom Dexter: And let me pull theior strings however i like

I won’t lie, him saying that really turned me on.

Tom Dexter: But if theyre not having fun i wouldnt be having fun

Rain Jones: Thats fair

Then, I went for it. I thought to myself, fuck it - I’m never going to get a better opening than this.

Rain Jones: Ok i have a confession

Tom Dexter: Yeah?

Rain Jones: I kinda get what u mean tbh

Rain Jones: Like, finding it hot

Rain Jones: Only from the other side

Rain Jones: The getting hypnotised side

Tom Dexter: Ohhhh 👀

Tom Dexter: Interesting...

Blushing hard, I continued:

Rain Jones: Bc like when we did it,

Rain Jones: I found it weirdly um

Rain Jones: Turned me on 😳

Rain Jones: Idk if you could tell

Tom Dexter: No i had no idea!! 🤯

Rain Jones: Fr? Because i thought it was obvious, but i was really trying to hide it 😅

Tom Dexter: I guess maybe in hindsight there were signs, now you say it - but at the time i never picked up on anything

Well, that was a relief. I’d done a better job hiding it than I thought.

Rain Jones: So yeah i think maybe i have a kink for it too

Rain Jones: But like the opposite to you

Rain Jones: I liked that u could just make me do things

Rain Jones: I felt really silly but i couldnt stop

Rain Jones: I liked how powerless i felt 😳

God, I was getting turned on again just talking about it - just thinking about it. Even as I continued the conversation, I was lying in bed touching myself through my pyjama bottoms.

Tom Dexter: Well in my humble opinion I’d say you probably do have a kink then, mate 😏

Rain Jones: Ikr 😅

Rain Jones: And i was wondering

Rain Jones: Would you maybe want to do it again

Rain Jones: But this time try some of those spicy suggestions...?

There was a bit of a pause there, during which I squirmed under my duvet, anticipating all the ways he might respond. My most fervent fear was that he would say no, for whatever reason. Maybe he’d get too nervous. Maybe he’d think it was weird, because we were friends. Or maybe his kink was only theoretical - maybe the idea of actually doing it, of hypnotising someone for sexual purposes, was too much for him. He’d told me he was ace, so I thought it was a legitimate possibility that he’d rather stick to his fantasies than make them a reality.

But my fears were unfounded, because before long he replied:

Tom Dexter: Are u sure?

Rain Jones: Yeah

Rain Jones: Very i think

Tom Dexter: Ok

Tom Dexter: Name a date and time then 😉

***

The date was the following day, and the time was 4:30 PM. Yeah, I wasn’t desperate at all.

“Now remember, if at any point you want to stop, you can,” he assured me, as he followed me into my living room. “However powerless you feel, you will always have the ability to safeword and call a halt to things, if you’re not comfortable with what’s going on.”

I nodded. “Sure, yeah. I understand.”

“And you’re happy with the boundaries we negotiated on the way over?” He stopped in the middle of the room and stared intently into my eyes, his tone serious. “Anything you want to add that you didn’t think of earlier?”

“Not that I know of,” I replied with a shrug. I was trying to play it as casually as possible, but I had to admit, I was practically bursting with excitement. I wondered if he could see it in my face - maybe my eyes were shining a little brighter than usual, or my smile was a little broader and wider than I thought.

Whether my enthusiasm was obvious to him or not, his earnest expression soon slipped away, replaced by an easy, confident smile. “In that case, if you’re ready, have a seat and make yourself comfy.”

Barely suppressing a gleeful giggle, I plonked myself down on the sofa, getting myself settled and staring up at him. I expected him to loom over me and beguile me with his bewitching bauble again - but instead, he sat down next to me and turned to face in my direction.

Meeting my gaze, he reached out and placed his hand on the side of my neck, and began to caress his fingertips along my nape. “Ooh,” I gasped, my eyes going wide, taken aback by the sudden physical contact - and by the tingles that his strokes sent through me.

He locked eyes with me, his lips quirked into a sly little smile. “How’s that feel?”

I struggled to form a response. His strokes on the back of my neck seemed to have short-circuited my brain a bit. “N-nice,” I stuttered at last.

“I’m glad.”

With his free hand, he took hold of one of mine, clasping them together on my thigh. It wasn’t enough to distract me from his intent stare. I felt very fixated, unwilling or unable to look away, my gaze as magnetised to his soft brown eyes as they had been to the pendant last time.

“I’ve got to tell you, you’re one of the best subjects I’ve come across,” he mused. “You and Ruth, actually. You both responded so well, and so quickly, to hypnosis and to the suggestions I gave you. But I shouldn’t be surprised by that. You’re both intelligent, imaginative people, and those are the kinds of people who’re best suited to hypnosis. All the people I’ve hypnotised in the past have been creative types - actors and writers and such - and they’ve all been really good subjects. But you, Rain... you’re in another league.”

His gaze never wavered as he spoke. His caresses along my nape never stopped. He kept hold of my hand in my lap. Even as a part of me hummed with pride to know what an exceptionally good subject I was, the rest of me felt trapped, powerless, pinned in place by his rapt attention and his light touches, like the proverbial rabbit in headlights. I didn’t feel like I could escape - like I could free myself from his loose hold, or even break eye contact - if I wanted to... and that really turned me on.

“You’re so open and responsive,” he continued, his smooth voice pouring into my ears and my mind like honey. “So willing and receptive. So compliant and suggestible. So docile and submissive...”

I swallowed, his words sending shivers through me.

“You’re a natural, Rain. You’re easy to entrance; you take instructions and follow suggestions so well; and best of all, you’re aroused by your own malleability. Being a good hypnosis subject turns you on. Being a hypnosub makes you horny...”

“Mm,” I whimpered through closed lips, feeling very flustered all of a sudden as Tom called me out for my newfound kink. His words were embarrassing me so much, but it was hard to think about why. It was hard to think, full stop. My eyes widened as I suddenly noticed how clear my mind had become, as if looking into Tom’s eyes and listening to him speak had wiped my brain clean. I bit my lip and squirmed gently in my seat as I found it practically impossible to piece together a coherent thought, between Tom’s captivating stare, and his humiliating - yet thrilling - words, and his tender strokes on my neck.

“And that’s why you react so perfectly to everything I tell you. That’s why it’s so easy for me to make you think, and feel, and believe, what I want or need you to. That’s why, when I tell you you’re getting so very, very sleepy, you find your body relaxing, your eyelids drooping, your mind clouding, as you start to sink down deep for me...”

Sure enough, my body was going limp, my shoulders slumping, my mouth hanging agape, as exhaustion pervaded every inch of me. My eyes, still transfixed on Tom’s, started to roll upwards as my chin dipped towards my chest, trying to maintain eye contact despite my heavy head and eyelids.

“And all too soon, you fall into a deep, deep... sleep.”

***

I started awake, wiping drool from the corner of my mouth. Tom and I were both still sitting on the sofa, but had moved apart. I had slumped sideways, it seemed, lying entranced against the back of the chair. He’d shifted back against the armrest behind him, on which he had propped his elbows, and was surveying me with a wide smile. Sitting up straight, I grinned shyly back at him, already wondering what he might’ve said to me while he had me in that stupefied, suggestible state.

“Feeling OK?” he asked.

“Mm-hm, yeah. Like I just had a really great night’s sleep.” That was true - I felt so awake, alert and energised, it didn’t seem possible I was still hypnotised (although I knew from last time just how hard it was to gauge). I also still felt pretty horny, but I wasn’t in a hurry to admit that out loud. Tom already had my number there, anyway...

His smile turned a little mischievous. “Feeling controlled, and helpless, and obedient to my every command...?”

I couldn’t help but snort slightly. I didn’t, really - I felt pretty much normal. I didn’t have any overwhelming desire to obey his orders. And all of a sudden, the idea felt kind of daft - like, why would I do whatever he told me?

“Nope, not really,” I told him with a shrug.

“Well, let’s see, shall we? Boop your nose.”

I gave him a slightly bemused look. That was his first ‘command’? Honestly, I thought he’d go harder - given what we’d negotiated earlier, there were plenty more options on the table. I didn’t feel obliged to do them right now, but I sort of thought he might try his luck. This was just a silly little thing, something I wouldn’t have minded doing anyway.

And because I wouldn’t mind doing it anyway, I did it. I reached up with an outstretched index finger and gave the tip of my nose a light little prod. I chuckled at his triumphant expression. “I mean, what does that prove, exactly? It’s not like that was a big deal...”

“Stick your tongue out at me,” he said.

I did so, as cheekily as I could. “Again, really didn’t mind that,” I remarked as I tucked my tongue away again. “I mean, I’m quite happy to do those kinds of things if you ask me - you don’t need to hypnotise me for that. It’s not really a test of how mind-controlled and obedient I supposedly am, is it?” I giggled a little derisively.

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I see,” he said with a smirk. “So you want me to test your obedience? To tell you to do something a little more out of the ordinary, a little further out of your comfort zone?”

Shrugging, I sat back and folded my arms. “Sure, try your luck.”

I was pretty secure in myself, at that moment. I didn’t really feel submissive towards him. I was fairly sure I could resist any outrageous order he gave me. But there was a part of me intrigued, and excited, to see if he could indeed get me to do as he said.

His self-assured smirk didn’t waver as he said, “Take your shirt off.”

The words echoed inside my head. Take your shirt off. I sort of expected to obey at once - to feel completely controlled, to have no choice, to have to do as he said. Instead, all I felt was a soft, gentle push inside my mind. Take your shirt off. It was a nice thought, a fun thought, an exciting thought. It felt enticing, alluring, persuasive... but not overwhelmingly so. I found I could resist it, even as it repeated in my mind, soft and pink and pleasant. Take your shirt off.

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. This was far from the all-encompassing hypnotic control I’d been expecting.

“Nice try, Mister,” I sniggered. “But I guess you’re not as powerful as you thought.”

But even as I gave that retort, the suggestion kept circling around my brain, tickling at my thoughts. Take your shirt off. Take your shirt off. It was hard to ignore it, and hard to argue with it. It felt like such a reasonable request, even while I knew precisely what was odd about it. I was trying to resist the compulsion, but a growing majority within my brain felt like nonchalantly replying, ‘Yeah, alright then’.

It didn’t feel like a fight, a struggle - no, my mind wasn’t as conflicted as that. It was dreamy, clouded, indecisive - but not in a bad way. I wasn’t being forced, pushed - the urge within me wasn’t demanding, it was nudging. Encouraging. Coaxing. Convincing.

Take your shirt off. You should take your shirt off. Go on. It’ll feel so good to take your shirt off.

I bit my lip, a helpless little smile starting to spread across my face as the voices filled my mind, making such valid points. I couldn’t blame him for all the other voices, joining in in agreement with his command. He didn’t put them in my head. That was my own subconscious, persuading me to give in. Maybe I could argue with him, but how could I argue with me?

You should take your shirt off. You know you want to. It’d be exciting to take your shirt off...

My fingers brushed the bottom edge of my top. “Should I...?” I murmured uncertainly.

“Up to you,” he said with a small shrug, even as his eyes glinted at me, as if daring me.

Do as he says. Take your shirt off. Do as you’re told. It’d be so great. It’d actually be so hot to take your shirt off, just because he told you to...

That was the moment of truth. The moment I chose to give in to the impulse he’d put inside me. The moment I decided to let go of my reservations and inhibitions. The moment I accepted the erotic path I’d started tentatively treading, and entirely embraced submission.

Slowly, as if trying not to startle a horse (even knowing that in this context, I was the horse), I took hold of the hem of my black long-sleeved shirt and tugged it off over my head, dropping it in my lap. I avoided Tom’s eye, but I could feel his gaze on me, and I could see his appreciative smile in my peripheral vision.

My cheeks burned. I’d really just taken my shirt off, just because he told me to. I was taken aback by my own compliance.

Mind you, it hadn’t been so bad. And it wasn’t that embarrassing, or that revealing. It was fine, really - after all, I was still wearing a bra -

“Take your bra off.”

This time, I gave in so much faster, flinching slightly like I’d just been hit in the forehead with a palm-sized beanbag, my eyes going as wide as saucers. Those convincing voices barely had time to get started - take your bra off, it’d feel so nice to take your bra off, it’d be so sexy to take your bra off in front of him - before my hands were reaching behind my back to undo the clasp, almost of their own accord. It was as if I was watching my body move automatically, like a spectator, an outside observer. Except I wasn’t actually watching it - I was too busy gawping dumbstruck at Tom, the command still sinking into my mind even while my hands were already obeying.

And then I was topless. I was sitting there in front of Tom with my breasts on show.

“What is happening?” I spluttered, giggling breathlessly.

“I’m taking control of you. I’m dominating you. I’m making you expose yourself. And you’re doing as you’re told, no matter how embarrassing. How does that feel?”

“Scary.” After a pause, I mumbled, “Sexy.”

“Rub your breasts.”

I let out a squeak as I obeyed, and the sensations from my own hands tenderly fondling my own chest were almost as stimulating as the wave of pleasure that came with doing as I was told.

“Keep doing that until I tell you to stop.”

“O-OK,” I said in a very small voice, my eyes cast downwards, my face burning. I’d never been more mortified, or aroused, as I was in that moment, sitting there playing with my boobs, stroking them and squeezing them and tweaking my nipples, at his command.

Keep rubbing your breasts, my inner voices encouraged. That’s right. It feels so good. Feels so hot, rubbing your breasts. Keep going. Don’t stop until he tells you...

“Good girl,” he grinned, leaning back and unabashedly watching me. I shuddered almost violently, which made him raise a knowing eyebrow. “Did you like being called that?”

“Mm-hm,” I murmured, biting my lip.

“Good girl.” Another tremor of lust went through me. “Now, when I say ‘begin’, I want you to slowly count down from ten, and feel that each number starts to lull you back to sleep, until you reach one and drop completely. But you’ll stay sitting upright, your body easily holding your position, and you’ll keep rubbing your boobs. Your eyes can close, your neck can relax, your head can sink - but the rest of you is under my control, and stays as it is. And instead of zero, you will say, ‘I am deeply hypnotised’. Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh,” I gasped. There was no doubt in my mind at this point that I’d do exactly as he said. He was controlling me like a puppet, making me do just as he wanted. Perhaps more importantly, I was letting him, my mind eagerly giving up more and more ground to his pervasive influence.

That point was rammed home when he said, “Call me Sir.”

“Yes, Sir,” I responded at once, my eyes wide.

It was hardly the first time I’d called him ‘Sir’ - that was what he was known by at work, as well as ‘Mr. Dexter’. We called each other ‘Sir’ and ‘Miss’ all the time in front of the kids. But I called him that from a higher level of authority - I was the class teacher, he the TA.

Now, he had the authority. Calling him ‘Sir’ wasn’t just a standard address, part of our jobs - but an admission of his power over me, and my subservience to him. I was the assistant now, dutifully following his commands. He was in charge.

That’s right. He’s in charge. Call him Sir. It’s so hot to call him Sir. It’s so hot to let him take charge of you. You want him to take charge of you. It feels so good to give away all your authority, to give Sir total control...

How dare you continue to make excellent points, brain.

Sir seemed delighted by my eager response, and he didn’t hesitate to praise me for it. “Good toy.”

I gasped out loud, my hips bucking beneath me. I didn’t know why that got a stronger reaction than ‘good girl’, but it left me absolutely throbbing. Perhaps because I felt like a toy - a puppet, like I said before - that couldn’t do anything but what its owner wanted. Unable to move, or act, or stop compulsively rubbing my tits... Just a plaything, being posed and played with however Tom - Sir - wished.

“Begin.”

“Yes, Sir,” I felt I had to say again. “Ten. Nine. Eight.” I rolled each of my nipples between my thumbs and index fingers. “Ngh - seven. Ssix.” My mind felt hazy and slow, my speech starting to slur. Sir’s smirking face was a smear as my vision began to blur. “Ffiive. Fooour. Th-three...” My head nodded forwards as my hands, working as diligently as ever, gave my boobs two quick squeezes. “Twooo. One.”

My chin hit my chest. My eyes rolled shut. My mind went dark and quiet. The rest of me stayed upright, my hands continuing to avidly grope without any input from the rest of me, as if they were someone else’s.

“I am deeply hypnotised,” I mumbled.

“Good toy. Now, in a nice clear voice, do the exact same thing again, and again, and again, in a loop. Count down from ten, and find every number takes you deeper, and repeat, ‘I am deeply hypnotised’. Keep repeating that countdown, and keep playing with your breasts, until I tell you to stop. Begin.”

“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. I am deeply hypnotised. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. I am deeply hypnotised. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. I am deeply hypnotised. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. I am deeply hypnotised. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. I am deeply hypnotised. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. I am deeply hypnotised...”

Each number sent my mind further into oblivion. Each repetition made me feel more powerless and controlled. Each declaration of that mantra felt more true. I was deeply hypnotised, and I was counting myself deeper and deeper.

Sir - as I couldn’t help thinking of him now - spoke to me while I sank and repeated. I was in no condition to consciously listen to the words, nor did I notice myself rising to my feet, or register my feet walking across the soft carpet, or feel his hand on my waist steering me. I couldn’t hear my own chanting voice any more. I didn’t even notice when I stopped playing with my tits. I just kept falling further into an all-encompassing trance, so far down that I wasn’t aware of my physical self at all.

At some point, I stopped sinking and started floating back up, more and more awake and aware by the second. It took what felt like hours - I was so immersed in the dark, empty void that I struggled to find my way back out of it. But at last, I was hauled back into consciousness - to find myself standing bolt upright in the middle of the room, stark naked, my arms raised and bent into odd angles around me. I gulped, trying to cover up, but my limbs refused to respond. I couldn’t move anything from the neck down.

Tom stepped in front of me, a lewd grin on his face as he flagrantly ogled me. “Hi,” he sniggered.

“Put something on me!” I squawked at him.

He barked with laughter. “Why, can’t you do it yourself?”

“Nooo,” I whined, still struggling to move, to no avail. He circled around me, intently studying my exposed body. I let out a plaintive noise, feeling his eyes on my behind. Mind you, him checking out my bare arse was probably slightly less mortifying than him seeing my snatch - and how slick and wet it was...

He soon came to a half before me again, but his attention now seemed to be on my pleading face. “What’s the matter, Rain?” he teased, slowly backing away from me. “Stuck?”

“Yes, that is the problem,” I grumbled, “and I suspect you know that.”

Stepping back until he was almost at the far wall, he gave me a wicked smile. “Well, let’s see if I can get you moving again.”

Squinting over at me, he raised his hands, positioning them so that, from his perspective, they’d be right above my hovering arms. He pressed his thumbs and index fingers together, as if pinching invisible threads, and tugged upwards with his right hand. My left arm jerked upwards, feeling pulled from above.

Yet again, my eyes went wide. “Oh,” I whispered.

He began pulling on those threads, tugging them up and down. My arms bounced at my sides, my hands flapping uselessly. I could do nothing to resist - robbed of the power of movement, I couldn’t stop him from yanking on the invisible ropes that seemed to have been tied around my wrists, making me perform a silly dance.

“S-stop it!” I pleaded, as he gently waved his hands from side to side, making my arms swing around wildly in response.

“Why?” he chuckled, lifting one of my arms higher than the other and jiggling both of them up and down. “I’m having so much fun, playing with my new toy!”

“Aagh,” I whimpered, as he made one of my arms clumsily pat me on the head. I really was his toy, now. I was his puppet, bound in strings, forced to wave and sway around however he fancied. I wished I could cover my tits, or my pussy, or my blushing face.

Finally he let go of my strings, leaving my arms suspended in mid-air again. As I mumbled and moaned, he angled his head, inspecting my body again. “Wow,” he remarked, openly staring at my crotch. “Looks like you really enjoyed that, Rain...” I made a strangled noise. “Tell me the truth - if you could move right now, however you liked, what would you do?”

“Masturbate,” I blurted, and then gasped as I realised what I’d just said.

“Oh?” He grinned. “Is that so?”

“W-wait, no, I meant...”

But I couldn’t find the words to correct myself, because now that I’d said it, I realised it was true. Right now, more than anything, I wanted to masturbate, not cover up or run from the room. I was so fucking turned on, driven wild by the power he had over me and the hot, humiliating things he was making me do. It made me want to rub one out so badly. It didn’t matter if I did it in front of him. It’d be embarrassing, of course, but that only made it hotter. I actually rather wanted him to watch. I wanted him to see me get off to the things he’d done to me.

Only, I couldn’t - because I couldn’t move.

“Well, maybe I can help you, there,” Tom said thoughtfully, “if you ask me nicely.”

“P-please, Sir,” I stammered at once, and then stopped with a splutter as I heard myself, realising I still felt like I had to call him Sir. “Uhh - please, Sir, can I touch myself? Can, can I masturbate? I, I really want to, and - and you can watch, I don’t mind... I just, I really need to... please...”

“Go and sit on the sofa again, arms at your sides, legs spread.”

“Yes, Sir.” I was surprised to find my body turning and trotting back to the sofa, obeying his words. I couldn’t move by myself, but he could make me move, as if by remote control. That really didn’t help my desperate arousal.

He took a seat next to me, grinning at the very obvious slickness between my legs. “Wow, Rain, you’re soaking wet,” he giggled. Then, as I mewled, he continued, “Hey, I guess that makes sense, doesn’t it? Rain usually is wet...”

I pouted at him. “Please, S-Sir...”

“Tell me you’re soaking wet.”

“I’m soaking wet, Sir,” I repeated at once, feeling all the more so from the admission.

“Hmm. Actually, say, ‘Rain is soaking wet’.”

I frowned, slightly bewildered, but did as he said. “Rain is soaking wet, Sir.”

“Good toy.”

“Hnngh -!” I tried to stifle the horny sound, staring at him beseechingly. “N-now please, please, Sir, can I, can I... can I touch myself?”

He gave me a bemused look. “Well, no, of course not. Toys can’t touch themselves.”

My disappointed whine turned into a gasp of surprise and relief, as he reached down and ran his fingertips along my slit. “Ohhhhhh,” I moaned gratefully, wishing I could move so I could thrust my hips upwards and hump his deft digits. Instead I stayed sprawled and static, a limp, impotent ragdoll, reliant on Sir’s strokes to keep up the stimulation, fervently hoping he wouldn’t stop.

And he didn’t. He kept on caressing my cunt, probing my entrance and teasing my needy little clit, as delicately as he’d stroked the back of my neck earlier. “Such a good little toy,” he chuckled. “I could really get used to this, y’know. Just sitting on the sofa watching TV, or scrolling on my phone, and idly playing with my new stim toy with my other hand...”

“Ohhhh, fuck,” I cried. “Fuck, fuck...!”

“And when you cum, you’ll drop down deep again for me,” Sir said nonchalantly.

I didn’t have the focus, or the time, to consciously register what he’d said. Mere seconds later, all the intense feelings that had built up inside me, the overwhelming, humiliated, objectified, submissive, helpless, horny flood, broke through the dam and burst free in a glorious release. My ecstatic scream faded faster than I could ever have expected, as my head lolled backwards and my mind fell downwards, all the way back into the vacant abyss I was beginning to crave.

“That’s right, Rain, falling all the way down for me,” Sir whispered into my ear. “Just drop, Rain.” He paused, and then chuckled lightly. “Hey, I like that. Rain drops,” he murmured softly. “Rain drops. Rain drops. Rain drops...”

“R-Rain drops,” I found myself repeating helplessly. “Rain drops. Rain dro-dropsss. Rain drooops...”

The phrase resonated with me at once, clamouring inside my empty head, leaving no room for resistance or thought. Rain drops. Rain drops. Rain drops. Rain drops. It was so true, so accurate. The rain dropped from the sky, falling all the way down - and I, Rain, was dropping, falling, endlessly plummeting into the unknown, into the depths, into the darkest recesses of my own mind.

Rain drops. Rain drops. Rain drops. Rain drops. Rain drops.

And Rain couldn’t stop.

***

My eyes flicked open, and I inhaled deeply and sat up straight in my seat, energy flowing through me. Tom was smiling across at me from the other armchair. “How d’you feel?”

“OK, I guess,” I shrugged. “Maybe a little more relaxed than I was. Not very hypnotised, though - I don’t think it worked.”

He looked perplexed. “Really? I could’ve sworn -”

“Nn-nnh, sorry,” I said with an apologetic grimace. “I wanted it to work too. It was very calming, and I do feel more chill - but I don’t think I went, like, properly into trance.”

“Damn,” he said, seeming disappointed. “Ah well, we gave it a go. I was so sure you’d be a good subject, as well. Maybe you’re just not in the right frame of mind for it today.”

I bit my lip dubiously, absent-mindedly scratching my exposed nipple. “Or maybe it just doesn’t work on me? I mean, I wanted to give it a try ’cos it seemed like fun when Ruth did it, but I guess I don’t really think I can be hypnotised. I might just be one of those people who can’t be.” I gave him a sympathetic smile. “Even by someone with your skills.”

“I do have mad skills,” he acknowledged with a grin. “I suppose maybe you are immune. After all, if I can’t hypnotise you...”

“No-one can, I’m sure!” I chuckled.

“Well, thanks for indulging me and giving it a try.” He hopped to his feet and started to cross the room towards me, his hand outstretched.

“No problem, mate!”

Getting up from my seat, I went to give him a standard handshake, cradling one of my breasts from below and holding it out for him. As soon as I pressed it into his palm, I remembered everything that’d happened so far, the wide, unnoticed chasm in my brain instantly filling itself in with memories of stripping off, and groping my tits, and becoming Tom’s mind-controlled marionette, and getting rubbed to a stupefying climax by him, and learning just how fucking great it felt to do whatever he said and call him Sir and be his obedient submissive little toy...

And what’s more, I realised that I was still naked, and that this definitely wasn’t a standard handshake. I went bright red and hurriedly pulled away, firmly folding my arms across my chest, and turning to the side to try and hide my pussy from him (not that there was much point, given how intimately acquainted with it he’d become). “Wha - agck - fuh - I’m still hypnotised?!” I yelped, over my dastardly hypnotic friend’s laughter.

“Not any more,” he chortled. “That was just one last suggestion for the road. All your triggers left your mind when your memories came back - you’re free to move and speak and think however you like, and get dressed and go home.” The devious grin with which I was growing increasingly familiar returned to his face. “I just, I couldn’t resist fucking with you just a little bit more before you go...”

“Sneaky little shit,” I smirked, turning to gather up my scattered clothes.

Still snickering slightly, he sat down on the sofa again. “In all seriousness, you OK with everything we did today?”

“Mm-hm, yep.”

“Nothing made you uncomfortable, or crossed any lines?”

“No, no, you’re fine. You didn’t do anything I didn’t agree to before.” I paused for a moment, my bra dangling from one hand as I thought back over the session, a wistful smile spreading across my face. “I meeean, I didn’t expect exactly how you did it,” I giggled, my cheeks turning red for what must have been the ninetieth time that evening. “You certainly surprised me... But everything was in my limits.”

“Good. I’m glad. And would you -”

“When can we do it again?” I interrupted him.

His wolfish grin widened as he continued with a chuckle, “- want to do it again some time?”

“Um, yes. Very yes. Please.” After a beat, I added, smiling shyly, “Sir.”

“Well, then.” He reached out and gave me a playful tap on the thigh with his foot. “Pull up your calendar. Let’s book an appointment for me to play with your brain again, Rain.”

Snorting at his rhyming, I retrieved my phone from the pocket of my jeans and sat down next to him, opening my calendar app, my clothes in a heap in my lap. “Got any fun ideas for our next session?” I asked, smiling and shivering a little in anticipation.

“One or two,” he said cryptically. “Oh, and there’s a new TV show I wanna show you, I reckon you’ll really enjoy it.”

“Ooh yeah, I’m up for that. Maybe we can watch an episode when we’re done with the hypnokinky stuff.”

“Yeah, we’d better watch it after.” I was still looking at my phone, so I didn’t catch his crooked, crafty smile. “In case you fancy a binge watch. I’ve got a feeling you might get pretty hooked on it...”

***

And the rest, as they say, is history.

I quickly became addicted to being a mind-controlled plaything, a powerless puppet, an obedient toy soldier. As the next year progressed, I willingly gave up more and more mental ground, eagerly sinking into Sir’s hypnotic clutches. That’s become his name, as far as I’m concerned - I know his actual name is Tom, but I automatically call him ‘Sir’ instead, even in the privacy of my own thoughts.

The months I’ve spent as Sir’s spellbound slave have been a bit of a blur at times. Like a wonderful (wet) dream, some of the details elude me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty sure I remember most of what’s transpired - just not quite everything. He usually makes me aware of whatever we’ve got up to - whether in the immediate aftermath of a session, or a while later, particularly if we’re just doing little bits of mindfuckery as part of our daily life. But more and more memories have slipped through the cracks over time - whether it’s because he’s taken them away without my knowledge, or because I’m simply too brainwashed to retain them... or because my subconscious is deliberately hiding information from me, to add to the sense of helplessness that’s become almost constant for me. It’s hard to know for sure. All I know is that the uncertainty is... hot.

But the start of my hypnotic journey? That’s a different story. Those memories are very vivid, as you’ve seen.

Even back then, I felt very drawn to Sir - to his charisma, his cleverness, his control. With my limited knowledge of dom/sub relationships, the dynamic definitely intrigued me. I was quite keen, in those early days, to explore what it felt like to be his mesmerised submissive, compelled to serve his whims and play out his fantasies.

But I couldn’t have possibly predicted how far it’d go - the extent to which I’d let him rewire my brain, and take over my life, reducing me to a servant in my own home. A human sex doll, cash dispenser and shoeshine kit.

Half the time I know what’s going on but I can’t stop it, which is painfully embarrassing and deliciously hot. And half the time I’ve no fucking clue what’s happening, because he’s turned my brain to soup. I don’t have a preference. Both, both is good.

An added bonus: before long it became clear that Ruth shared my newfound kink, although not to the extent of becoming Sir’s full-time slavegirl like me. (He’s said he only has enough mental space to devote to one live-in toy, at any rate, which genuinely makes me feel so special.) But she confided in me one girls’ night that she’d been having sexy thoughts and fantasies about being hypnotised, and was thinking about asking Tom to try it again, and did I think it was a good idea?

I responded by eagerly telling her what Tom and I had been getting up to, and inviting her to join us. Thankfully not alienated by my intense anecdotes, she happily dived in. Now Sir has another part-time plaything, and my best friend’s become my best fuckbuddy. (I also discovered that, contrary to what I previously believed, I am super gay... when Sir tells me to be.)

What’s more, as it turns out, Ruth and I were not Sir’s first subs. He’s got a few more dotted about, whom he plays with now and again, when they manage to meet up. Remind me to tell you all about some of the erotic escapades I’ve shared with them...

There are plenty more stories to share, and I’m sure there’ll be more in the future. Sir seems to want to keep his favourite toy around for the foreseeable future. And I’m certainly not tired of being totally under his control, his owned, obedient, powerless property.

I hear Sir calling me, in a mischievous tone with which I’ve become very familiar. I’d better go. I predict lots more Raindrops to come...