Just Joan

Got the Look

by Archibael

Tags: #cw:noncon #dom:female #f/f #f/m #hypnosis #pov:bottom #sub:female #betrayal #clothing #cunnilingus #exhibitionism #infidelity #multiple_partners #pov:top #solo #stockings #sub:male

I followed up Just Joan with Got the Look about six months later: the MCForum had been kicked off, and the fetish was in its exciting early days, and I was prolific as all get-out.  Yet again, based on a real chick, though Joan was not at all based on my actual wife at the time.  Sinne was kinky and fun and, importantly for this chapter, switchy...

Got the Look

Home again in Michigan, with Clive finally at work, Sinne hit buttons on the multitude of remote controls which serviced their home theater system. She cursed as she activated the DVD player instead of the VCR, then finally gave up convenience entirely, walked over to the armoire, and manually turned on the appliances she wanted.

Now, she went over to her carry-on bag, still full of the detritus of the west-coast trip, and unzipped the pocket which held her goal: an unlabeled video tape in a nondescript sleeve. She gazed at it a moment and pondered its contents...

* * *

Creamy white thighs parted, Sinne watched with interest as Joan crawled slowly up the sheets and into her lap. Joan's makeup was a little over-the-top, as befitted the rest of her outfit-- today she was done up as a mid-1950s call girl, with a glamourous silken dress and corsetry reminiscent of June Cleaver in an implausibly naughty mood. Manicured nails slid up Sinne's skirt to rest in the small patch of hair she retained.

"Why, Ms. Sinne, I do believe you're not wearing any underwear beneath your dress. How uncouth!" Joan lightly brushed the hair with her nails in something that was not quite a tickle, but was definitely meant to be noticed. It was gently electrifying.

"I must have forgotten."

"I don't think so at all, ma'am. I think," she replied, applying more pressure to her strokes, "that you knew when you invited me over exactly where this would end up."

Sinne squirmed as the fingers pressed on the outside of her mound. She squeezed her ass muscles and pressed her groin up into the other woman's palm. "I don't know what you mean. I thought it was a perfectly legitimate secretarial agency."

"Oh, I don't think you were fooled. Surely not when you saw me. My fingers couldn't type a word with these nails." She gently parted Sinne's labia with two of the aforementioned fingers. Perhaps not deft enough for typewriter keys, they were skillful enough to keep from scratching or otherwise hurting Sinne's delicate areas as she carefully pushed one inside. "No, I don't think you were fooled at all."

Sinne gasped at the welcome invasion, not least because the other fingers were manipulating her clitoris with no small amount of expertise. "No..." she admitted, "I wanted this." She corrected herself. "I want this."

Joan smiled, continuing her hands' movements, and then adopted a mock-serious look. "Of course, Ms. Sinne. We at Private Secretaries, Inc. are trained in giving you whatever you want..."

"Rrrrr... come here, honey, and give Mistress what she wants," Sinne interrupted, breaking character. "No more 'typing'. What I want is your lipstick smeared on my cunt."

Giggling, the "secretary" abandoned the facade and completed her crawl upward. She left her middle finger to its work, slowly sliding in and out, and applied her mouth to Sinne's engorged clit.

Sinne emitted a series of moans at Joan's expert pussy work. I can't believe, she thought as she hit her first orgasm, how much I missed this.

Europe had been artistically fascinating, if a bit stifling, but she had been without traditional forms of release the whole time. Certainly some of the men had been intriguing (and some of the women), but there was something missing these days when she saw or spoke to them. Something which made her lie in bed at night and masturbate over flashes of memory of Joan instead of going out to experience the Euro nightlife.

It wasn't the girl's cuntlapping talents, although those were wonderful and-- impossibly-- improving all the time. Like now, for instance, as she pried Sinne's lips open with her mouth and curled her tongue into the inner walls in a rhythmic massage. Joan already rivalled her husband-- even exceeding him in technique. Not quite yet in enthusiasm, though-- Sinne suspected that a bit of pre-Joan was holding her back a bit. Not that you could tell by the tongue-lashing she was receiving, though: already Sinne was ready to come again, and Joan was moaning in excitement at the prospect, without even having touched her own pussy.

No, though Joan's mouth was heavenly, it didn't keep Sinne celibate on the month-long trip. It wasn't even the submissive way she begged to serve, or the way she masturbated whenever permitted to, all the while staring at her Mistress with devotion.

It was, rather, the particular look in Joan's eyes.

Not in 'Joan' mode, or when playing French maid, or secretary.

"Joan," Sinne panted as she came again, "Sleep now." Joan's motions slowed. "Now, continue what you were doing, remaining asleep. But... mmmm... open your eyes, Joan. Open them. Now."

Despite how soon it had been since the last orgasm, Sinne felt her hips rolling again uncontrollably as she saw Joan's eyes. The look in her eyes when she was in trance was what made Sinne come again and again and again...

* * *

"Hello, my darling Mistress..."

The video tape had started. Joan's face was in frame, smiling benignly, and perhaps a bit mischievously.

"... If you're watching this, it means you're finally at home alone." Joan pouted a bit onscreen. "I wish I could be there with you, while you watch, but I don't think your husband would understand our relationship, or why I was visiting." Now she was smiling again. "You told me to 'surprise you', so that's what I tried to do. This entire tape is a result of my demented imagination. I know I'm pretty twisted little slut-- don't know where that comes from, but I know you love it about me. Don't you, Gloria?"

Sinne unconsciously nodded, furrowing her brow. But what exactly was Joan talking about? "Surprise you"?

"As always, I am waiting for you to come back to me. I love you, I want you, I lust you. Please don't be away so long this time." With that, Joan's hand reached up and out of frame, and suddenly her image was replaced with a blue screen. Wonderfully cunthungry slut she was; competent video editor she was not.

Sinne sat on the couch and waited for the next segment of the video to start.

* * *

"You are sinking deeply with the sound of my voice, sinking more deeply with every word. As you listen and sink deeper, your relaxation increases, and your body becomes more and more heavy even as your mind becomes less and less resistant to my suggestions. You're going deeper, now, heartbeat slowing, breathing becoming more relaxed, focusing entirely on my voice, body heavier, mind sinking deeper and deeper into..."

Into control. Sinne felt calm seeping out of her as her brain registered that she was being hypnotized. Her pulse began pounding, her skin grew flushed, and her thighs moistened as she imagined herself lying compliant, obedient. The more she thought about it, the more aroused she got. "Stop," she moaned. "It's not working."

Joan stopped in mid-sentence. "Sorry, Gloria. It's my fault. I wasn't relaxing you enough." She looked upset.

"No," Sinne replied. "No, dear. It's not you. It's me."

Joan accepted this, but her disbelief was evident. Everyone has heard those words, of course, usually in the course of a breakup, and they carry a bad connotation.

Sinne drew her close, holding her in a gentle but firm embrace, Joan's head cradled to her breast. Despite her disappointment with another failure to go under, she was incredibly horny. As her arousal grew, her slavegirl began lightly nuzzling her bosom, as if knowing what Sinne was feeling. Was wanting. "Joan, you must go under for your Mistress now. And give me The Look."

Joan stopped burrowing into Sinne's light gown. Her body grew slack, but her face was upturned, her eyes open and empty. Staring into nothingness, into depthless sleep, into open and unquestioning submission to control. Sinne's pussy was aflame as she gazed at Joan's blank expression, and she commanded, in a whisper, "Oh god, yes, fuck me."

Joan, unable to stop even had she wanted to, sank to her knees and obeyed.

* * *

It really wasn't Joan's fault, Sinne knew. At least, not in the way that Joan meant.

In her sexplay with Arch (was it a whole year ago, now?) she'd been immensely turned on when he'd pretended to be her therapist and had "put her under". She swung in the sub direction about as often as in the domme direction, really, and the idea of being hypnotized and doing things because she had to, not because she wanted to, sent a chill up her spine. Of course, with Arch it was just a game-- as it was meant to be. She was no more hypnotized by his play-acting than he was an employment applicant and she a female executive in the next night's entertainment.

But the thoughts of mind control had lurked beneath the surface, with her, and she'd spent the next several months tentatively exploring texts in the libraries and bookstores for information about the subject. Once you got beyond the stage-magician nonsense, there was a surprisingly large body of knowledge in the public domain on the fundamentals of hypnotism and how it was done. And how it could be done. And-- more and more, it seemed to Sinne-- how she could do it. The thought had made her wet.

Then had come the trip to Arizona, with the planned rendezvous with Arch... After her seminar ended at noon, suddenly in a mischievous fit, she had decided that Arch's wife would make quite a fun little experiment. That had worked beyond her wildest imaginings, but the most life-changing part of it had not been the creation of "Joan", or the subsequent sexual satiation, but had been the lustful admiration (and, she eventually admitted to herself, the jealousy) of that entranced, open-to-control expression on the face of the beautiful Mrs. Baal.

It consumed her, now; her panties grew moist when she contemplated Joan's staring eyes, and what she could be made to do, but of late it began to dawn on her that what she wanted most of all was to have that face herself. She wanted to-- no, lusted to-- be open, and willing, and unable to resist.

But what to do? Who to share this desire with? There was no way she'd let a complete stranger toy with her mind, and Clive was certainly out of the question-- the last thing she needed was to be with him in a state where she would answer all questions truthfully.

Arch was an obvious choice, provided he was capable of learning how, and she'd been sub with him before often enough to know she'd enjoy it greatly. But while she enjoyed the hell out of fucking him, she didn't entirely trust him-- not with her unbridled mind. No, the right selection was an inevitable, if ironic, one.

Joan. Her creation, born of Arch's wife's persona, infused with sexual deviancy, and utterly devoted to her servitude. Sinne could, above anyone else, trust Joan-- how could she not?

Slowly, Sinne had trained Joan, molding her into a competent hypnotist. She gave Joan the understanding of slow induction, the deepening phases, and suggestibility tests. Instructed her on tone of voice and proper cadence. Shifted her personality a little more toward the dominant pole.

The first test of Joan's new skills had been Arch, of course. Though probably not stupid enough to fall under while alert, Arch was used to Joan reinforcing her programming at night through self-hypnosis, and in many cases slept right through it. Which made it relatively easy to pull him into the web: Joan had slowly transitioned from chanting "I am going deeper asleep for Mistress; I must obey her commands" to "You must go deeper asleep for Mistress; you must obey my commands." Programmed with a little of Sinne's enjoyment of controlling others through trance, Joan had gotten steamy-wet on the night she'd finally heard Arch murmur in his sleep, "I must obey your commands..."

From that moment it had been child's play, really; the sleeping Arch was hardly in any condition to resist anything Joan wanted to make him do. He transitioned swiftly from a husband, thrilled with the newfound sexiness of his altered wife, to a helpless thrall too enspelled to control his own masturbation activities. This turned Sinne on, and she could have had a lot of fun with it, shifting allegiances and dominances from spouse to spouse and back again... But instead it just made it all more frustrating: now she would see Arch with his eyes staring into the inner space of trance, too.

She wanted it, for herself.

She needed it. But every time she came even remotely close to going under with Joan, she couldn't help but realize what was about to happen and got intensely excited... to the point of distraction, and distraction was exactly what she didn't want. Dammit!

Sinne had half-imagined plans to go to a psychiatrist, claim she was a nymphomaniac, and beg for libido-suppressants, but she wasn't sure even that would work-- the excitement was largely, but not entirely, sexual. The frustration was almost unbearable, and the face-fuckings she administered to the entranced Joan and her husband every time she thought about it only served to highlight her deep need to be there herself. Maybe drugs...?

When she started obsessing about it at work, spending more time in the ladies' room with her fingers up her snatch than at her desk working, she knew she needed a solution, and she needed one soon...

* * *

The blue screen cleared up, revealing a view from the back seat of a sedan. Arch's Grand Prix, it appeared to be (she knew its back seat well). It was parked in his driveway, and this was punctuated on-camera by the couple walking down the front walk toward the car: Arch and Joan. Dressed nicely, if not entirely formally. He had on a sharp, black suit (no tie, of course; Arch hated ties) while Joan was decked out in a shimmery ice-blue number, slit to the thigh. They opened the car doors and came inside, glancing back and smiling at the camera before pulling out of the driveway.

What the hell am I watching? Sinne thought to herself as she leaned back on the couch.

Arch and Joan were talking to each other, but the sound was muffled over the noise of the car engine and the road noise. No problem seeing their actions, however; Arch rested his hand on the slit-revealed knee of Joan, and within a moment or two had slid it upwards, taking the dress with his hand. Joan eased her seat back with the lever at its side, and parted her thighs to give his fingers access. The camera didn't reveal exactly what he was doing, because his urgent motions were concealed by the puddle of silk in her lap, but Sinne could see from the flexing of his wrist muscles that he was administering a swift and powerful finger-fucking to his wife. And nothing about her moans and pleading tones were drowned out by the background noise, now.

Sinne wished she could see Joan's face, and as if in answer to her silent request, Joan, pulled down the passenger-side visor and flipped open the attached mirror. She aimed it at the camera, and Sinne now saw Joan's eyes glazing in that near-climax look she wore so well, eye-shadow accenting the sexiness of the half-lidded gaze. "Near-climax" was not enough, though, and soon the eyes were fully closing of their own accord; a glance lower on the screen noted that the satiny material of the dress was straining upward with the hips beneath, and Sinne didn't need the cries from the front seat to know that Joan's pussy was coming all over Arch's hand. She didn't need sound to hear the next thing out of Arch's mouth as he drew his hand free and brought it to his nose and mouth. "Mmmmmmmm..." She knew him too well.

Well, at least now Sinne knew what kind of video this was.

* * *

The solution came to her... so to speak.

She was being fucked for what had to be the fifth time by Arch's glorious cock; Joan's latest suggestion-- that he could not come until Mistress Sinne ordered him to-- certainly didn't stop him from plowing into her with speed and fury. At first, Joan had shared the space with Arch, gently embracing Sinne's clitoris with the back of her tongue as he slowly, deliciously pumped their Mistress, but after the fourth orgasm (or so... who keeps track?) the redhead had coursed with fervor and demanded that he fuck her pussy hard. Arch enjoyed compliance, though it meant Joan had to move to avoid being smashed into. Joan looked somewhat disappointed to leave the tangy slipperiness which she'd had her face buried in, but she contented herself with satisfying Gloria's tits, one with her mouth, the other with her fingertips.

Now, hours later, during the fucking, Sinne pulled Joan's ass toward her, indicating that the woman should submit her cunt to Sinne's mouth. "Oh, Mistress, thank you..." Joan almost cried, as her beloved hypnotiste began to suck on her clit.

Looking up at Joan's face through her parted thighs while being plugged below by Arch's straining efforts made Sinne's exhausted hips start moving once more, and when Joan lost control of her bodily functions and ground down against Sinne's face, the contagious excitement made Sinne's overworked pussy thrust and twitch involuntarily one final time, coming heartily, but almost painfully.

"Stop," she begged Arch, panting. "I'm done. I can't take anymore. Arch, my slave, you can come in Joan's mouth."

Ordinarily, the sight of Joan licking Sinne's juices off of Arch's cock, and then closing her eyes in triumph when he thrust himself deep into her throat would have gotten Sinne horny once again, but she was too spent to think of anything else, and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Drifted off to sleep? Sinne pondered, days later, back at work, now. That's never happened before. I must be getting old or something. Sinne had a rabid sex drive, and she had always tired her partners before she herself was in need of rest. Not that she was never satisfied, just that she was always ready for that one extra go at it. Not Wednesday night, though, apparently. After the four-hour "tag-team" session with Arch and Joan, her libido had drained away from her with her last orgasm...

And suddenly she had the answer. She spent an hour in the ladies' room furiously masturbating, in anticipation of finally wearing the enticing blank stare of the hypnotized, and longer that night after Clive had gone to bed.

* * *

The fingering scene on the tape had Sinne moist, and she had her hands in her exercise shorts, gently rubbing herself through her panties. Arch smeared Joan's upper lip and chin with her own come, and she responded by eagerly licking his fingers, but the car trip apparently wasn't long enough for any more antics, and the car pulled into what appeared to be a restaurant parking lot. As the car stopped, the couple turned their heads back to the camera, and Arch reached his fuck-hand back, and the screen went blue again for a minute.

Sinne took the opportunity to pull her clothes off completely, giving her better access to her horny, musky hole as she spread her thighs wide. When she was done, she focused on the tape again, where the scene had changed to a restaurant table, from the angle of the tabletop. The place settings were elaborate, and in the background she could make out more elegantly-dressed tables, with draped cloths extending to the floor.

Joan and Arch sat beside one another, angled slightly toward the camera, and chatted gaily about his job, and of friends they'd seen recently. Before this could get too boring, the waiter arrived with the main course-- for Arch, filet mignon; Joan had the mahi-mahi. A third plate was set near the camera, though Sinne couldn't make out what was on it in the blurry instant it was visible. The waiter asked if there would be anything else, and Joan replied, "No, not right now."

The waiter left, with an odd backwards glance toward the camera, and the couple started digging into their meal. After commenting on the chef's skill, Joan looked outward from the television, grinned evilly, and said, "Oh, dear, I think it's time for you to eat your dinner, too. Don't forget to set up the camera."

There was a patch of jerkiness in the video, a rustling, and then darkness. This lasted so long that Sinne almost hit fast forward, but then it seemed the camcorder must have adjusted to the new light level or something, because now you could make out what was going on. At first it looked like a small room with curtains, but it became apparent this was not so when Sinne noticed the shoes on the floor, one pair of casual men's dress loafers, and one pair of silver fuck-me-pumps. The shoes were there because the camera was under the table, and the "curtains" were the floor-length tablecloth.

There was some final adjustment to the placement of the camera: pointed such that both pairs of legs from the diners above were visible and in the field of view. Then, as the image stablilized, Sinne saw someone, the cameraperson, evidently, crawling forward to meet the silvery high heels. Someone whose identity was obvious from the elegantly-coiffed red hair and the tight little black dress-- $229 at Bebe, got it on-sale for a mere $117-plus-tax.

It was herself, of course. Crawling on hands and knees, exposing her ass and garters to the camera as her dress hiked up. Parting Joan's dress at the slit, and slowly licking her way up the other woman's leg from the ankle onwards. As she rounded the knee, Sinne-onscreen was gently pressing Joan's thighs to either side, exposing the brunette's neatly trimmed bush before it was concealed again-- concealed behind the back of Sinne's head, which dove forward on camera, eagerly, almost desperately, into Joan's muff.

It was impossible to see onscreen exactly what was happening-- this wasn't the fake angle generally used in porno movies. All that was visible was the back of Sinne's head, slowly turning this way and that, now and then grasping for leverage on the sides of Joan's thighs. But it was enough to make Sinne-- the Sinne sitting on her hands on her couch-- come like a fiend. None of this was familiar to her, at all, not the restaurant, not the cuntslurping she was delivering to Joan (and she could hear the noises, by god, she could hear Joan's soaked pussy slapping against her own face, sloppy with every stroke), nor the way you could hear Arch and Joan in the background, continuing their casual dinner conversation, Joan's voice more than a little distracted. Sinne was drawing a complete blank, here, which could mean only one thing...

She'd been under. She'd been hypnotized, and made to do this by Joan.

Her fingers danced in her slit and she let out a guttural sound.

* * *

"Relax, dear, and focus on my eyes as you feel your body growing heavier and heavier..."

Joan's induction was making Sinne feel randy already, and Joan could tell. She made a gesture, and Arch moved to comply, affixing his mouth to Sinne's cunt.

"... and as you concentrate on my voice you will find that it fills your mind..."

Arch's tongue manipulated her clitoris and it couldn't have been more than a minute before she was able to come, both from his nimble attentions and from the idea that the slow, drowsy sensations she was feeling were the precursor to trance. Her breath slowed after the climax, and she found it deepened her ability to relax.

To relax and do what Joan told her to do. Her nipples tingled and tightened at the thought. Arch redoubled his efforts as he heard her moan, and Joan continued with her droning, silken phrases.

"... feeling yourself enter a warm, soft place where you can feel only peace and your thoughts can gradually become blank..."

Her hips bucked upward at Arch's face as he added two fingers to his ministrations, touching her inside, finding that spot that drove her crazy. She doused him with her juices as she successfully, though barely, managed to stay focused on Joan's eyes, and her words.

Her breath caught on the cusp of orgasm, and the wash hit the back of her head, and as she exhaled in bliss she did feel like she'd entered a warm, soft place. Her body felt so relaxed. Just as Joan was telling her it was.

It was working.

"Keep looking into my eyes, Gloria, and I want you to imagine you are falling into them. No fear in falling, no, just slow, gentle drift, like a feather..."

And Sinne could feel it, like a feather, and Joan's eyes were so big and welcoming and she was sinking, going under, at last, at last, and it was making her so fucking horny to think about how she must look, becoming open and compliant. Her pussy was afire again at the thought.

Before the excitement could draw her out again, Joan spoke calmly and with a gentle cadence of sleepiness, and Arch had his cock in her now; she barely would have understood that it was there but for the pleasure it brought her, as his thrusts matched the rhythms of Joan's speech.

"... deeper and deeper..." and she was sinking deeper and deeper into Joan's enchanting eyes, and Arch was going deeper and deeper inside her, the topside of his rigid cock giving indirect pressure to her clit, and bringing her to the brink yet again.

"... letting yourself let go, letting yourself be hypnotized by me..."

The word "hypnotized" pushed her over the edge into animal movement, animal need, and the animal squeezed with her inner muscles as her pussy came once more. The animal did all of this, because the mind was sinking, floating downward on a cloud of sexual satiation, drawn by Joan's eyes and voice, down into the oblivion she wanted more than anything.

She came many more times that night, but she would remember none of them, for after the animal took over the body's needs, her mind was left disconnected, with nothing left to do but take instructions from her Joan, her wonderful, successful, entrancing Joan.

Her eyes slowly closed, and she finally obeyed the commands to sink deeper.

* * *

The scenes after the restaurant on the tape, taking place mostly in Arch and Joan's home, were stilted, as if the camera had been shut off, or even ignored altogether. There were segments with Sinne's bra-covered tits plastered up against the front window, her fingers playing with her clit through her panties as she watched passers-by; the tape didn't indicate how many passers-by watched her. There were parts with her hungrily devouring Joan's pussy, begging this woman to be her Goddess, to enslave her, to please gift her with the cuntjuice she had earned; images of Arch fucking her from behind, holding onto her garter-belt like a harness, her mouth pleasuring Joan's tits, her clit, her ass. Through it all, the onscreen Sinne obeyed. Without a question, without even a look of curiosity on her face, she did what she was told to do by the lovely brunette-- this woman who was her own slave. And Mistress... Goddess...? It was so easy to lose track. And so delicious.

Sinne's couch smelled like a whorehouse, and her fingers were wrinkled from the heat of her steamy twat. Sinne was coming, and coming hard, and couldn't seem to (and didn't want to!) stop. She had the VCR paused on the last frame of the last scene. Yes, the memories had come flooding back as the recording showed her what she'd done, and she realized now that Joan had craftily planted the suggestion for her to forget everything until she saw it on the tape. Perhaps too craftily; Sinne would have to make sure, now that she'd succeeded, that Joan was properly under control and not taking matters too interestingly into her own hands. Sinne wondered, then, if she'd made a mistake in giving Joan a bit too much of her own dominant tendencies.

But that was almost irrelevant (though to tell the truth it was a somewhat arousing thought on its own-- she'd even come to that particular concept once already); no, what was important now, what was driving her lusty screams to echo through her empty house, was the image on the television screen.

A full-on shot of her own face, taken by Joan after she had serviced them for hours. Makeup smeared into disarray, damp with perspiration and cunt, hair down and sticking to her cheeks.

And The Look in her own eyes, that blank, sweet Look, of complete and utter resistance-free compliance.

Staring into those eyes, Sinne came again, and again and again and again until the VCR switched itself off. Never knowing that the look on her face now, as she scooped more fuckjuice into her drooling mouth in between strokes, was virtually identical to that on the screen in front of her.

If she had known, she would merely have come harder.

Feedback is my ambrosia and nectar.  If you like my writing and want to see more of it, please comment and let me know!

x2

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