Hero & Witch
Part 2 - At the Witch's Mercy
Sabrina sat at her desk, sitting idly, more fascinated with the miniature grandfather clock on it than the paperwork in-front of her. She wasn't sure if she could get any work done, knowing he was so close by. Deadlines were coming up and she knew she had to get something done, or at least keep up the appearance that she was getting something done. Though Sabrina had her own office, she hated to give someone the wrong impression as the entered and found her doing anything but work. But her thoughts were stuck on the events of the night before and the morning that followed.
Smiling brightly, she rubbed her legs together under the desk, deep in the memory of her enthralled pet. She'd taken him through her most elaborate mind game ever, structured and performed like some of her favorite comics; the strong, head-fast hero encountering an unexpected force, a hypnotic witch, and took his will in the most delicious of ways, and continued playing with him well after. The smile of immense satisfaction went totally unnoticed to the rest of the office since her blinds were closed. If it weren't for the tedious scheduling of this week, she would've taken the day off, and made Jon take it off over any objections, celebrating the successful role-play with some nice vanilla, mutually-conscious sex. But Jon got lucky as he was never one to miss work, and they were both stacked. She could've have easily stayed home and rescheduled her meetings, but it was nice enough to just be close to the professional, serious-minded man whom knew his place under her.
The sound of her desk phone ringing shook her out of daydreaming, silently cursing at the phone as she reached for it.
"Sabrina, it's Peter."
"Peter? Williams or Bevy?"
"Bevy, the boss."
She sighed tiredly away from the speaking end of the phone. She really didn't feel like hearing anything work-related now, especially not from a "superior," but she remained cordial.
"Oh, yes Peter. I'm sorry. How are you today?"
"I'm good. Look, that report we discussed, I'll need it by Thursday."
"I thought we discussed that Friday would be the best time, and you saying that there'd be no immediate rush on this."
"Sorry to say a rush did come up. It's not that I want to rush you; I should be asking for this for Wednesday, but Thursday is the best I can manage."
"I'm not sure I can make that time-frame Peter. I still need to confer with some people on this, which I don't expect to be any sooner than Friday."
"Hmmm. You sure you can't persuade someone to work a little faster?"
That question from Peter sounded strange to Sabrina; it could've mean something totally innocent and jesting, or something more inappropriately suggestive. Either way, she was through playing supplicant.
"Now, now Petey. You of anyone should know how easily I can persuade someone. But it's my choice who I persuade; not yours."
"Come now, remember why you hired me? It wasn't because I get work done and boost morale and productivity as quickly as possible. It was because of how well I work, and how thoroughly I influence people. I use that same motivation for everything, even for you. You remember those relaxation techniques I taught you, the ones that inspired you to hire me in the first place. They weren't hurried or fast-tracked at all. You wouldn't have enjoyed them nearly as much that way. I took my time with you, molding your mind into something better. You are proof-positive of using enough time to produce wonderful results. I mean, I could say the right words and make you mine, but after hearing it so many times, "Sleep for me," just takes you right back into that programming where you are mine, and where time is what I say it is. No more troubles or cares, just listen and I will make everything better. Is that right Petey?"
No immediate response from Peter's end reminded him it'd been a while since she triggered him.
"Please answer me Petey. Am I right?"
"Yes Ms. Marks. You're absolutely right," her boss whispered.
"Are you absolutely sure you need this report by Thursday?"
"No," he answered honesty, automatically.
"And why is that Petey?"
"I made a mistake, and wanted to cover my error with a report submitted earlier," he revealed.
"I see," she said more to herself. Obviously her work with Peter wasn't as extensive as she thought it should be. Though her time was better spent with more pleasing subjects, he clearly needed to be made to not take advantage of his true boss.
"You will not need that report till Friday Peter, and since it is your error, you shall accept your error and whatever the consequences may be, and not feel the need to bother me or anyone else with your issues. Understand Petey?"
"Yes Ms. Marks."
"Good, now relax yourself for 10 minutes. Let those ten minutes be filled with eager images and thoughts of being conditioned by me, so eager to be programmed even more to my liking, and easily forgetting such dreams as you wake up refreshed and ready to work hard, like a good boss should. Is that understood Petey?"
"Yes Ms. Marks."
"Tell me what you will do."
"I will listen, I will obey, I will dream, I will forget."
"Good. Now, hang up the phone, close your eyes, and rest for me."
The thrill of taking some under, especially in a place like this, was still a huge thrill, no matter how many time she did it. It was her principle duty as an on-call hypnotherapist for a tech company, but she always put a spin on her work to make it fun for her. Peter Bevy thought he was truly the boss, but his subconscious knew better. And though Jon hadn't changed much in how his co-workers saw him, his private life was a world of difference. Girlfriends often made that kind of difference in men; hypnotic girlfriends made new men though.
Sabrina's peripheral vision caught sight of someone's physique in her window, like someone stood there, debating on whether to knock on her door. She could tell it was Jon, and wondered how busy he really was today, and how strong the temptation was to set it all aside to spend a few more joyous moments with his mistress. Others passed by as he pretended to stop and look at whatever reports were in his hand. He stood there for so long; she noticed the physique's breathing had slowed, but was deepening. She saw what he might look like in her mind's eye - eyes closed, lost in a light fog of hazy memories, inspired to be near Sabrina for reasons he couldn't quite comprehend. Well, new reasons; he always had at least one to see her. But now he was in a similar predicament, side-tracked by sublime feelings that he wanted, needed more of. It was probably inexplicable since the only clear memories he had were more in his muscles than his mind, lingering sensations and exertions. He was so close to reaching for the door, till someone else off in the distance called his name, summoning him elsewhere to her displeasure.
She cursed silently again, even stronger wording as her fantasies almost became reality in the office again. If he stood there long enough, she would've opened the door and invited him in (pulled him in if no one was looking) for a mind-melting quickie.
"Well, maybe I can have him for lunch," she thought as she looked at the work on her desk. Instead of work, her mind resigned to thinking about the night before in detail to pass the time before lunch.
* * *
".....enchantment has only begun."
Thick clouds of drowsiness flooded his head, keeping him passive, docile and dreaming of sublime things, temptations he gave into as they urged him so convincingly; as she urged convincingly. It was like re-living his first time with a woman, the nervousness and head-over-heels feelings within him. But she understood him, led him so perfectly into is own heights of ecstasy, and showed how much he loved adoring the female form. There was massaging, whispering, kissing from her forehead to her pretty toes, where she especially praised and enjoyed his doting. The dream of her, whoever she was, kept him attached to sleep for as long as he could bear. But then, something caused the clouds to dissipate, evaporating from his mind and leaving him in the state between sleep and wakefulness. In this state, he began remembering things.
The first thing that came to mind was something he trained himself to do in preparation for crime-fighting - faking unconsciousness. He felt all his senses and memories coming back to him, but he kept his body in-check, reminding himself that all his faculties were available, and that there was no need to reveal to the world he was awake yet.
Thoughts still in-motion, he tried recalling the last known memory of full consciousness. The rooftop, patrolling there, the interruption in the form of a woman. A witch. An assertive, insistent, compelling one at that. Named Scryer. She introduced herself somewhat, showed off a few tricks, and challenged his mind, which she thought was so valuable. The end-result was hazy enough for him to deduct that if there was a victor in the challenge, it wasn't him.
The more his senses sharpened, the more questions were answered, and yet more questions arose. He was in-doors, maybe his apartment. His head was propped up on something that wasn't a pillow, but felt soft. Someone was breathing along with him, close to him. His skin was exposed, and his body felt and smelled exertions of love-making and musk in the air. The realization of what he'd been doing and the sound of feminine humming in the air betrayed his feign sleep as Striker's member responded by extension.
"Striker? Striiiiker?" a tantalizing whisper filled the air.
"Or maybe you prefer.....Jooonnnatthaaaaannnn." He didn't dare move as he tried to consider is options again, and not be affected by the way she turned both his names into something sultry. The playful witch might've known he was awake for sure, but pretending not to be was his best option, or at least his best option to keep the element of surprise on his side.
"I know you're awake; you don't have to hide it from me."
He gave her no indication of waking, just resting naked, accessible, silently in her lap, so close to the feet the submissive part of him had nearly developed a fetish for. She enjoyed this form of resistance immensely.
"Okay my hero, let us pretend that you are still sleep now. Let's see how we can coax you out of it."
The sound of her head turning made him chance opening his eyes by slits, observing as much as possible. He noticed it wasn't his bedroom; likely hers. But along with her dressing, he would've expected some kind of stereotypical sorceress' lair. A throne, some astrological design on the ceiling maybe, a round table with a crystal ball on top somewhere. Or for something normal, maybe a hotel room. This apartment looked lived in, and much more normal than expected of her. Her beauty exceeded normal though, he though. Maybe this was the apartment of someone else, another citizen charmed into having a houseguest. He saw her set her witch's hat aside near them, her red tresses swaying, the swell of her breasts and her perked nipples. It crossed his mind how they might've tasted, and wondered if he already had at some point. He made sure the slits closed before she looked back down at him.
"Since you are asleep, your subconscious mind is open for programming, and it's time for the new owner to set her preferences. But just in case, listen to my voice Jonathan. It's the same as it was before; soft, sensual, irresistible. You can't help but listen, no choice but to. You don't even wish for a choice because you're receiving what you truly want now. To be at my mercy, and happy to remain as such."
The sound of her voice and her verbal spell composed of truths tickled his ear-drums. He hated admitting how he liked what he was hearing. Her accent, how she spoke, and what she said she wanted of him which seemed genuine. As she described it, he could feel the "programming," the directives moving to work against his defenses. He was mentally divided between putting up a strong-enough resistance and willing himself to stay at rest. A war on two fronts that would be a war of attrition, losing on both ends. He couldn't even guess which side of him would crack first. He considered letting his faux sleep lapse and physically taking charge of the situation. Holding her down, binding her, escaping to home or a safe distance. She probably and powers or spells already in place for any of those events. He also didn't know what she could do with her powers if angered, but he kept that option as a last-ditch effort.
Retrospectively, his training seemed woefully inadequate. Yes, he prepared himself to face villains of all kinds, and avoid the media at nearly any cost. Fans and admirers though, he never even considered. He never expected to have any. Maybe a kid who'd see him in action and want to take up martial arts or to play "superhero" with friends. What official super/hero guide would ever account for fans who are considerably more powerful than said hero?
"I honestly love the concept of programming. It's a little beyond the use of many witches I've met. Some of the modern ones like me have adapted well enough, others seem to take to having those with the skills serve them. It might be yet another point of interest I have in Jonathan, programming being your day job. I love the concept of planning and setting commands in a useful being. It's nice to know that I'm working with a mind that can certainly comprehend what is happening to him on some level."
The witch's hand grazed over his body with one hand, from his collarbone to his abdomen. She noticed a slight change in his breathing, something he almost successfully hid, but she caught. Part of his "dreaming" mind expected the hand to go even further south than it did. Her fingers could've reached more, but she merely tested his reaction.
"I'm not sure if keyboard or console is an apt word for how I will set my preferences. Whatever would be the right word, it's a lovely device anyway. More organic, and several interesting buttons to press."
Striker's control of his breathing became even more tested as Scryer took to toying with his nipples, grazing one with her finger, pinching the other between two manicured nails. She probed and prodded them, trying to see if what she was doing would produce any result. Unfortunately for him, his self-training for capture and feigning sleep never got to a point of keeping his nipples from hardening. He hoped that could be passed off as merely responding to a pleasing touch, but he knew there was more to come. He wished beyond anything this was a playful girlfriend teasing him in various ways, so he could not hide anything and react to her freely to show her what got him especially riled up; the suspiciously villainess-like sorceress was slowly getting the same results from him though. He felt her grasp his sides while her thumbs rolled over his nipples, moving them like his torso had become some kind of makeshift game controller.
"Hmmm, the system seems to be on standby still, but some functions are waking up."
"What the hell kind of game are you playing?" he asked her, or wanted to. His occasional hobby was video games, and the directions his nipples were being rolled around felt like someone trying to play a game. An image of a claw vending machine game at carnivals seemed an even better concept; Striker swore he could feel the blood rushing from his head, past where her hands played, as if her claw was going to pull his erection out of the pile. He dared not think further about it, afraid of imagining his erection betraying him and stand tall, eager to be snatched up.
"I wonder if this model responds to voice commands - wake up." *Snap*
She snapped her fingers along with that command, sound like a mouse click.
"Nothing yet. Eyes open." *Snap*
"Breathe deep." *Snap*
He wondered if that was to test to see if she could change his breathing; he also wondered if it actually had changed."
"Get hard." *Snap*
The blood started to inflate him, but just a minimal amount.
"Maybe it's how I say it," she mused as he felt her body shift a bit.
"Get hard now," she suggested directly into his ear like a hot flame made of silk. His nipples were pinched roughly for added effect, and she nearly squealed in delight seeing his cock jump from flaccid to growing.
"We're definitely making progress now," she said, patting him on his muscular chest.
"And silly me; I forgot that this model came with pre-installed commands - journey of azure."
His unprepared brown eyes opened wide in hypnotized impulse and shock, and hers were already ready to greet his. Her trigger was installed hours ago and maybe was the hardest spell of hers to fight. They were and endless journey that he could've longed to take without any prompting from her. He would've searched all over that apartment to stare into those eyes after she commanded it, uselessly fighting it all the way. It didn't hurt how she made sure her eyes were never that far away for staring into, but she did plan to see him go the distance for her some time.
The bridge of her nose rested on his forehead as she stared guilelessly into him. Though her sight was filled with watching how vacant his eyes were getting, she could feel the rest of his mental efforts dwindling away. His mouth gaping open, his breathing almost labored after holding back for so long, the heat from his genitals quite satisfying. His eyes were denied hers temporarily as she applied another spell - a deep kiss. She remembered how popular that upside-down comic book movie kiss was, and the way it felt awkward at the beginning, yet hotter as it went on, she wished she could've tried it much earlier. She pulled away from the kiss, and re-applied her patented azure stare to see him drift toward completely mindless.
Before he could reach the point she wanted him in, a flicker of life in his eyes surprised both of them. She pulled back a bit to see that flicker register not only in his eyes but his body, arms slightly twitching. How he was capable of this after multiple spells, she didn't know, but all she could feel was exhilaration in the hunt not being quite over yet.
Striker, for his part, felt her power coming over him like waves of a tsunami, but having his eyes opened by her trigger kept a burning thought alive in his mind, that he was awake, and supposed to be doing something. Against her waves, he fought like hell to swim back up from drowning. The mental gave way to the physical as he felt control back in his arms. They rose from his sides as quickly as he could manage, not with any specific plan of attack, but to escape being idle, which might be what he feigned for too long.
His arms didn't get far as two hands moved quickly to grasp his wrists. The pressure of her hold gave him more awareness, making him blink, take in breath sharply, and free his hands. His torso and hips shifted to move off the bed, trying to move quickly as he felt her moving as well. Quick hands gripped his again at the wrists, bringing them back face-to-face. This time they were kneeling on top of the bed though, and Striker couldn't hide his blush as he realized how naked she was, and how naked he felt. For everything he managed and may have surprised her with, her happy expression nor the confidence she radiated was reduced.
"Welcome back sleepyhead," was spoken in the most amused tone he'd ever heard in his life.
"I'll be leaving now," is what Striker tried to say, but it became a mumbled mess while he tried to break her hold and move his numb, tired legs.
"You truly have no idea the kind of power you possess. I see now even I was being modest with noting your mental fortitude. It IS a super-power at this point. Do you know why?"
He didn't respond, nor did he try to move like should have as her words held some intrigue to him still.
"You know why your society always has one or two sayings about the strangest things happening under a full moon? It's because that's when a witch like me can reach either a peak in their own power, or even a boost in power if they're practiced enough. All the powers I've used on you tonight, my eyes, my words, my kiss, where I might be able to take anyone else in this city with a hint of just one of those things, you've taken all of that, and continue fighting it. Maybe I was premature in calling our test over; you've exceeded limits I've set for you."
He tried to take her words as a means of pride and hope, the hope that he could still prevail or escape, but it didn't help how her smile grew the more she talked.
"I freely admit that I'm shocked at what you've accomplished, and inexplicably excited. Our future almost seems quite uncertain. Almost."
"What?" he asked without thinking, as his arms were released only to have his head grasped and gazing back into her eyes. He gripped her arms, trying but failing to match her arm strength.
The look in her eyes was different this time, not exposing them to their bright blue beauty, but actively searching, scanning for something in his eyes. When it looked like she found what she was looking for, she eased her grip, and pushed his head back a little, but not letting go.
"Just as I thought."
He looked at her, puzzled.
"Like my name implies," she explained "I can scry, or see premonitions and visions of things far away or even things that haven't happened yet. Those powers are nearly as strong as my hypnotic abilities. Witches may use anything from crystal balls, small pendants or other things society wouldn't even know a witch could use. Your eyes are one of those things. Think of your eyes yet small crystal balls that hold more than just your ability to see what's in front of you. From my eyes, they see more than you know. Would you like to know exactly what I saw your eyes?"
She took his still-puzzled look as an affirmative.
"I saw me, writhing in ecstasy."
Instead of pulling him, she closed the distance, almost hopping to him to lock lips with him, not even feeling him put up a fight.
Against his lips, she whispered, "I can't tell you how sexy it is to know that your future is filled with me, receiving some kind of sexual pleasure."
A deep kiss followed, their minds filled with questions of how distant that future was supposed to be. She knew better than he did, but had to admit it was her passion that truly guided both of them.
"Goodness, I love these lips of yours," the witch breathed huskily.
Each second against his lips reminded her how good hers felt against his, how attentive and how passionate they revealed him to be for her. It didn't feel as good as earlier in the evening, when she took his thought away and led him to the apartment. It didn't take her long to figure out what was missing - she was doing most of the work, and he wasn't contributing like he could have. One hand crept away from his head and didn't touch him again until she grasped his manhood. She ran her fingers over it, stroking him slowly and feeling him swell. The contribution she was looking for finally came as he moaned into her kiss and pushed back against her lips, maybe even pushing against his better judgment.
Inspiration struck her for a way to keep his enthusiastic efforts at the ready. She pulled away from the kiss, giving him several seconds to catch his breath, and feel that powerful will assaulted by her trigger, her tsunami force pulling him under again with another strong undertow.
Striker felt nullified again as a sensual whisper slid into his mind again.
"You will listen to my words, let them caress you and sway you to my will again. You love my commands. You love the beatitude that accompanies obeying my commands. You find yourself especially loving some words that compel you so quickly, faster and stronger than that formidable mind could ever hope to stop; why stop it when you love it?"
Another deep kiss silenced the mental counter-arguments she knew his mind would try to conjure.
"You're going to love the next trigger I have for you. As you've discovered tonight, my kiss stands on its own as an unstoppable current of passion and bliss can open anyone's mind and heart to me, mine for whichever I choose to take. You love being kissed by me, but you also love initiating it yourself. That first kiss we shared wasn't an act of desperately stopping me, it was you acting on your base instincts. Those instincts are now ever linked with my essence. When the lips you love, and only my lips, form the words "embrace the crimson," that is what you will do. Your base desires will take you over, your lips become like heat-seeking moths that can only be satisfied by the fire of my red lips. You can't stop yourself from kissing me when you hear "embrace the crimson." Only a command from me will stop you. Do you understand?"
His attempt to respond obediently or defiantly was cut off by another kiss. She let him breath after breaking it for a minute before repeating.
"Do you understand what 'embrace the crimson' means, my her-"
Scryer was cut off this time as he responded perfectly to her question, sooner than she expected it. His base instinct truly took over as he pushed his sensual controller down against the bed, softly clutching her body, his erection laying somewhere on one of her thighs. She realized her error as he deepened the kiss and she felt herself running short of oxygen. She rolled them so she came on top, and lifted her head away before his hand could pull it back down.
"Stop Striker. I command you to stop."
He obeyed her fortunately, and she saw him fade a little bit more. The combination of installing a new trigger, and feeling him obey and harden for her, made her body flush with more heat. His body sprawled out against the sheets, she made a spontaneous decision, and grabbed her hat that laid close to his body. Even more spontaneous was placing that hat over his erection and explaining to his open mind its significance.
"Did you know that even witch's hats hold great power? They're not just stereotypical dressing, they have a few interesting uses. Like the power of a magician's hat, what can be conjured from within its depths is limitless. My hat covers your head, the one so filled with blood, standing proud and tall, and is a clear indicator that you're in your witch's presence. As you have pleased me, my hat will please you. Any and everything you can think of where you've imagined or felt yourself stimulated, you will feel it as my hat covers you. You will not cum while my hat covers you; in-fact, you will only be able to cum on my command. But if you reach that height where you know you are so close to cumming, you will stay there and enjoy it for all its worth."
Though he blankly and stilly stared up at the ceiling, entranced, his hips moved of their own accord. She was so curious as to what it looked like in the darkness of her hat. She tried picturing it as she swung a leg over his face, and pressed her arousal against it.
"Remember Striker. As you please me, my hat will please you."
An eager tongue reached out to lick the length of her slit, making her settle down over his face more casually. The sorceress grabbed her own breasts without thinking, squeezing the flesh and her hard nipples, on her way to becoming as driven by her desires like her captured hero was. She closed her eyes and imagined the vision she saw of herself in Striker's eyes. Images of labored breathing and shaking expanded to her naked body riding his face, her dark hat covering his cock, as if to represent the heights of his own arousal.
Striker, under Scryer's command, had his senses assigned to what he could do for her with his tongue and lips, and what he was feeling under the hats power. Memories of sexual fantasies of hand jobs, fellatio, being caressed with precious fabrics like velvet and silk, even a woman's hair or her pantyhosed feet, all of it generously surrounded and played with him. It felt like a contained dimension of pleasure. His wildest fantasies were coming together under it, combining. Being sucked off by a skillful tongue and mouth made of velvet and silk, being stroked by a woman's hair; it was all becoming too much for him. The longer he worshipped the witch's pussy, the more every single element transformed from various women he'd seen or met, until they all became Scryer. Her mouth, her lips, her dress, her red hair, her stockinged feet playing with him.
The stimulation from the hat got his tongue to act in kind, probing, tasting and sucking his way into two orgasms that covered his whole face, and almost made her forget that heroes need to breathe. She lifted her leg into the air and nearly laughed out loud at the desperate breath he took, while his tongue stayed on auto-pilot for a few seconds after. She always wondered how it looked when a man pleased a woman like that, and it was an image she'd never forget.
She knocked the hat off of him with less grace than she wanted, seeing his member still blindly reacting, feeling the air in the room. The next thing it felt was something slick, hot and attached to Scryer. They rocked together, faster and faster. Striker was still in the mode of pleasing her, and tried now to control his cock to some degree to make it happen.
"Embrace the crimson," was spoken and the red-head tasted herself on his lips as their tongues dueled, nearly merging. When she felt the last orgasm hit her, she broke the kiss enough to scream in a harsh whisper, "release now!"
Scryer's body felt both warm and hot as her climax hit, and felt his seed filling her. She reminded herself that she was on the pill after she momentarily worried about forgetting to put a condom on him. Even witch's need to be careful, she reminded herself. As he covered her neck with kisses, having fully given into her sexual spell, Scryer wondered what made her pussy ache better, his manhood or his tongue. "The former hit the hardest, but the latter hit the other two with such ease." As the drowsiness of the night and activities finally started getting to her, she began whispering some things to him before she yawned and found herself drifting off.
* * *
Jon awoke to sun in his eyes creeping past the closed curtains. The weight of his naked lover on him was so warming, he could be surrounded by an Alaskan December and her bodily heat made him feel closer to the Sahara in July. His senses were starting to wake up, everything in him felt intact except for his memory. He was naked too, and his member was still inside of her. “There’s no better way for a man to wake up…” he thought. He couldn’t recall everything that went on last night, but it’s obvious what the main attraction was. Whatever happened or whatever she did to him last night left him with so much satisfaction. He grew harder just thinking about it. Sabrina unconsciously responded by spreading her legs a little wider, making those sexy moans he liked so much. “Whatever I got for last night, she deserves something in return.”
Sabrina woke to a wonderful man softly necking her while her hips followed the rhythm he started. She didn’t want to give commands or say anything now; what they were doing was exquisite enough and words were superfluous. She was happily steadied by his hands, receiving as much pleasure as he could give her. It was like lightning crashing in her, wave after wave of semi-conscious pleasure made her release twice, keeping his own release in check. He felt that was enough stimulation for one morning, and laid her on her back, giving her a tender kiss on her forehead. She might’ve complained about him leaving her if she had the strength to. Instead she drifted back into sleep. Jon got off of the bed and noticed the time. “Eight in the morning and I already feel this good.” It was two hours later than he was used to getting up, and he didn’t have time for a workout. Fortunately though, Sabrina’s apartment was closer to work, and he had a suit here he’d forgotten to pick up. Besides, it seemed like he got a week’s worth of a workout last night. He laughed as he headed toward the shower.
The hot water felt good against his skin and the shower's steam felt invigorating, like coming out of one of Sabrina’s trances. Jon wanted to spend a couple of hours in there. Hell he wanted the day off. It’s been months, maybe years since he’s had this kind of motivation to want to take a day off. “Oh well,” he thought. Maybe he could manage a few sick days to spend with Sabrina, take her on a trip; someplace nice. He reached around his shoulder and felt a wound there that wasn’t there before. It still stung a little. “Maybe I ought to bring a scratching post with us.” He was focused on his new discovery so much, he didn’t notice someone had snuck into the shower behind him. A slender hand grasped his genitals.
“Morning stud. Why didn’t you wake me? We could’ve showered together.”
“Oooh…..sorry. I didn’t want…t-to disturb you. You need the…rest”
“Maybe later, but now I’m here, getting clean with my favorite boy-toy. And I’m noticing a peculiar growth down there. I really wonder what makes it tick. I’d better examine it while it's so active. ”
“Oh God! You know…s-some….scientists say…’whatever you study, you also ….ahh…change?’”
“I've heard of that Heisenberg theory, but I already know what’s causing your extension. The warm water and steam, my hand caressing you…you’ll be ready to release in no time. I’d so love to draw this out, but I know you’d like to try to get to work, so I’ll make this easy for you.” Since sneaking up on him, her hand stroked him more vigorously until he came. He fell to his knees, his mind foggy and hoping she would let him recover. When Jon tried to lift his legs out of Sabrina’s tub, the lethargic effects left him off-balance. Jon would’ve fallen in a painful heap on the floor if Sabrina hadn’t grabbed his arm.
“Jonathan, stop now! Steady yourself before you fall!”
Instead, before he could obey her post-hypnosis command, he landed on a soft shag rug above the hard tile floor. Sabrina silently thanked herself for choosing her bathroom attire wisely, and at the same time thanked Jon’s larger body for breaking her fall. It took her a second to notice something. Her naked form lay on top of his again, but this accidental fall reminded her of their first real connection. But they could reminisce later.
“Listen to me Jonathan. Do nothing but listen to me carefully. Feel your mind and muscles awake, ready to move and be ready for your day. There’s nothing to stop you now, do what you must and help me up. And don’t forget to thank me for last night and this morning.”
The clouds in Jon’s mind cleared, and he felt like thanking her over and over for such a thrilling experience. But he couldn’t help but just stare at his naked beauty and admire her. His smile was appreciated and infectious as she gave the same smile back, admiring what she had in front of her. They kept gazing at each other, silently thanking each other. Then her expression went from sincere to playful as she scurried away from him and leaped back onto her bed like a little school girl. “Too bad you’re leaving now. I’d love to command that sweet ass of yours to stay naked for my pleasure.” Watching her laying on her belly, he saw her wonderful flesh exposed. On impulse, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her skin. Sabrina squeaked loudly as she turned to see Jon trying to suppress his chuckling and failing miserably. “You’ve got a sweet ass yourself Sabrina.” He walked away, still chuckling and smiling wickedly, almost unnaturally as far as his reputation was concerned. The hypnotist had a wide-eyed expression for several minutes. “What have I created?” She couldn’t even turn to face him, afraid she might find a suave lady-killer who she couldn’t resist. Her lips curved into her own wicked smile as she briefly pictured hypnotizing him too.
As she heard him get ready to leave the apartment, something came to mind from last night. She didn't know why it was so prevalent, but he knew it had to do with Jon for some reason.
"Jonathan?" she called out.
He appeared at her bedroom doorway. "Yes?"
The confusion she wore as she said it didn't match the expression Jon had of having an epiphany. It was liked he figured something out, and moved to do it. What 'it' was lied between Sabrina's legs, and he realized his purpose had become serving that part of her with the reverence his Mistress, his witch, deserved.
Sabrina languished at his attention as the last things she sleepily said to Jon before the ending of their role-playing was another new trigger. With the right phrase, he was drawn to her eyes, her lips, and her pussy. As if each were powerful magnets whenever the appropriate words were spoken, and Jon was a helpless, small piece of iron, still strong but easily bendable to Sabrina's whim. She had not yet considered if Jon would respond to commands given to Striker, but in terms of psyche, they really were one in the same, and she made no distinction yet between what Striker should obey and what Jon shouldn't.
She reached two orgasms before she made him stop. He mindlessly did and stayed kneeling next to her bed, waiting for another command. She kissed his forehead and reluctantly got out of bed, retrieving a wet cloth to wipe his face with. She was glad none of her juices stained his suit. Seeing him stained, marked by her in his real life would've been pleasing on a primal level though. She thought hard about what was stopping her from making Jon call in sick and doing the same. Neither Jon nor Bevy could persuade her otherwise if she was so inclined, but she decided to wait. "He'll take some time off soon though," she thought.
"You are such a good boy, Jonathan. It pleases me more than you know how you've opened yourself up to me. I would like you to forget the last few minutes of pleasing me the wonderful way you have. You won't remember the words that drove you to my pussy, except in your subconscious. You will only remember how much you please me as you are, and how happy that makes both of us. When I tell you to, wake up with only the memory I want you have. Wake up Jonathan."
Jon shook his head a bit, wondering what happened, but immediately smiled at being close to Sabrina again.
"Did you need something?"
"Oh, I often do pet, but not this time. Thank you for asking though."
He kissed her on the forehead again before stepping out of the room. She heard the door to her apartment close as she began to get dressed.
* * *
Sabrina came back to herself, reclining in her chair, her head facing the ceiling. She blinked several times, a bit in shock of everything that took place last night, and earlier that morning.
As she brought her chair to its normal position, she was aware of the juices flowing in her. Blush crept into her cheeks, nearly as red as her natural hair. She was thankful of being alone at the time.
"It must've been that command," she concluded, remembering the effective yet forgotten (for both of them somehow) "nether-kiss" command that magnetized Jon's lips directly to her crotch. She can't believe she'd lost track of such a trigger, even in-spite of all that stimulation from the night. She would have to take notes to ensure things like that were never forgotten.
"Nether-kiss" she whispered to herself, and imagined Jon on his knees at her naked self. She forced that thought out of her mind as she didn't feel like staining her comfortable chair, and having to explain/erase the memory of it to anyone. She stood up to go to the bathroom to clean herself up and get some actual work in before lunch.
She made it to the ladies room in a hurry, hoping to not run into Jon on the way as she didn't trust herself to trigger him and drag him into the ladies room with her. After cleaning herself off, and staving the urge to finish herself off, Sabrina stood alone in-front of the restroom mirror, smiling to herself. Looking at her appearance and thinking where their game could go next. She didn't know then, but knew she'd think of something soon.
On her way back to the office, Sabrina heard someone from behind.
“Excuse me, Miss Marks?”
Sabrina was a little shocked to turn and face a blonde woman whom Jon used to know so well. She was standing at the entrance of an empty conference room.
“Jessica? How can I help you?”
“Could you step in here for a second? I’d like to talk to you about something, in private.”