Predictable

by S.B.

Tags: #cw:noncon #dom:female #femdom_hypnosis #humiliation #m/f #mind_control

Dr. Vanessa Madsen deals with a rude man hitting on her as she’s waiting for a friend.

((Dr. Vanessa Madsen also stars in my story "Invisible" which chronologically takes place before this one. While you don't have to read it to understand this tale, it does shed some additional light on what kind of person she truly is. Please enjoy.))

It was the evening of the first Saturday of June and beautiful brunette Dr. Vanessa Madsen had just walked inside a sleazy bar on the Southside, the common designation for the section of Richmond, Virginia, south of the James River. It was a place with a lot of stories to tell, most of which were neither pretty nor appealing. Because of it, the school counselor and therapist had no interest in hearing them. In fact, the less time she spent inside the joint the better.

Vanessa hardly visited this part of town, only doing it of sheer necessity or at a friend’s request. This time, it was because of the latter and, if everything happened as usual, she would arrive there ten minutes late of more.

Darla was her given name and Hughes her third surname. She was a cheerful, natural redhead with dark blue eyes, small lips, and an almond-shaped birthmark behind her right ear that was often mistaken for a tattoo. They had attended College together, becoming close friends in the process before a tempestuous summer affair led to her first marriage and a move to Boston that was doomed from the start. Fourteen months later, she was back in her hometown, sadder but not wiser, hoping to reconnect and start a new life chapter.

In the decade that followed, she had her fair share of ups and downs until settling with Bill, a used car salesman with the ability to strike a deal even in the most difficult of circumstances. What he lacked in intelligence, he compensated with perseverance, and he loved to make the people around him happy.

Vanessa pushed deeper inside the bar, examining her surroundings as she approached the counter. It was an old building, probably dating back to the time of The Great Depression. Though it had recently been renovated, scars of its former existence were still visible on the farthest walls and on the wooden floors. It comprised three main areas, two with a dozen circular dark tables each, and another one with two pool tables who too had also seen better days. One laid empty under a flickering light while the other was occupied by two bearded brothers, holding a silly competition to see who missed the most shots on a single frame. The counter was large enough to spread across the three sections and it would have been the most obvious choice to wait for Darla were it not covered in a heavy blanket of cigarette smoke that made her piercing eyes tear up. Stopping just as she was about ready to sit, she made a sharp turn to the right and sunk her tired legs on the most distant table available.

Loyal to her fashion sense, Vanessa wore a marine satin shawl lapel suit jacket with matching pants and a pair of mid-heel slingback pumps. A small designer handbag in similar shades completed the ensemble. She was the most elegant person in the facility, destined to draw unwanted attention no matter what. Not a minute had gone by since she had adjusted herself on her seat and one crude-looking guy in his early forties was already admiring the view, half-empty beer bottle in hand.

“Here we go again...” She muttered, reminiscing of all the other times - too many to number! - in which a similar scenario played out. There was always a jerk, either with a pot belly, a small dick, or both, and an opening remark not too different from this:

“I’ve never seen you around here, hun. Care for some manly company?

Vanessa raised her head ever so slightly to confront him with a pair of menacing eyes and said: “Were it in any way charming or exciting, I would probably say ‘yes’ but just a quick glance is obvious to determine you possess no such attributes, so turn tail and return to the hole you’ve just crawled out of. I’m not interested.”

“Ouch!” The unwelcome guest snorted. “The beautiful lady has a short temper and a dirty mouth. Why are you being so mean, hun?”

“Don’t call me that again.”

“What? Hun?” He scratched his square chin as if she had said the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

“Yes. I don’t know you and I just said I don’t want to either. Save your limited vocabulary for anyone that gives a damn and fuck off!”

Not taking the obvious hint, he pulled the chair in front of him and sat down, callous hands resting on the table. The man, whose name was Rocco Anders, was a six-feet mess of vacant eyes, dirty teeth and protuberant veins drawing countless blue highways across his body. He wore a beer-stained orange Virginia Cavaliers jersey, rugged black jeans, and had a sunken scar on the back of his right hand, a souvenir of a close encounter with a serrated knife a few years prior. Rocco loved baseball more than working, and drinking until he passed out even more than the things above. Harassing strangers with his unrequited charms was also part of the complete experience, one he was not willing to give up on so easily.

“Okay, hun, it seems we got off on the wrong foot, but there’s really no need... You don’t have to be a bitch and insult people like that because, sometimes, bitches get slapped or worse around here if you know what I mean... I just want to talk and if you get off your high horse for a moment, you’ll realize that’s the best decision you can make right now. What’s your name?”

“Leave me alone.”

“That’s a dumb name, but sure, whatever...” He emptied the beer bottle and made it spin like a roulette on the table counter. “What do you do for a living, Ms. (or is it Mrs.?) Leavemealone?”

“You just don’t get it, do you?”

They never did. Men like him were a scourge, a true blight upon the world. All things considered, making them understand that was not just a source of delight but a civic duty altogether. He was not like the losers that dropped by her office because those, even with their inherent flaws that could never be resolved, got something out of it, like her latest conquest Paul Wallace for instance, and his desire for humiliation and being a steppingstone for her achievements. Through her kinks, he was now in touch with the deepest part of himself. Perhaps this new nuisance should be, too.

“Get what?”

“No more questions.” She fiddled with her purse and produced a crystal ornament no bigger than a golf ball. Its surface was covered in a pattern of reflective hexagons all perfectly aligned with one another. While it could serve as an improvised paperweight if needed, she often used it as a focal point for quick inductions whenever she was out of the office. “If you wish to talk, you need to learn how to listen first. What do you think of this trinket?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a simple question. Do you like it? Do you not? If you do, what draws you to it? If you don’t, what would it have to change for you to start liking it?”

“What is this?” Rocco asked, his tiny brain unable to process the quick transition between his shameful remarks and her ever-growing confidence. The ball rested, immobile, next to the dark-glassed bottle, both reflecting one another in silence as she spoke.

“This is a game I like to play that’s called ‘things we really enjoy’ or ‘things we’d rather be doing right now’ if you prefer. The way it works is like this: each person looks at the crystal and speaks the first thing that comes to mind. That thing is a mirror of our greatest fantasies and when you say it loud, it’s reflected to you so you can live it to your heart’s content. It’s a wonderful game I’ve indulged in many times before. Anyone that truly wishes to talk to me must play it, one time or another. Are we doing this now or in the next five minutes?”

“Hmmm...”

“Now it is then. Good choice.” She smirked. “Since you’ve never played this, I’ll start. I’ll tell you the first thing that comes to mind and why, and then it’s your turn. You’ll have to be quick about it though because if you think too much, you’ve already lost. Ready? In 3, 2, 1... Cock!”

“Huh?”

“Cock. Cock is what I’m always dreaming about... a big, juicy cock inside me, pushing and pounding and not giving me any time to breathe. Cock. Like a hard rock, putting me in a lock, such a wonderful shock… There’s nothing better than feeling one ramming my pussy, demanding a moan of compliance and submission. I love cock. I live for cock. I want to have a cock inside me all the time. What about you?”

She touched the ball with two fingers, making it spin. It was a slight rotation, almost invisible except for the myriad pinpoints of light that exploded in the space between them, her beautiful dark red lips glistening as if they had just savored a mouthful of creamy cum. Rocco’s attention was momentarily divided between the imaginary reflection and the meaning behind her strange confession, both slipping past the threshold of consciousness before he could articulate a proper response.

“I... I don’t know...”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to. To know something often takes the fun out of it and that goes for cocks, too. If I already can tell one’s coming my way, the anticipation can ruin the moment and things won’t feel as good as they should but the unexpected cocks, the one you never see at all, the ones you don’t think about but simply welcome when they come... those are the best. Those are the cocks I want the most. I love them and I’ll always will.”

Vanessa’s right hand played with the ball again, three fingers altering the reflection sequence, but not its overpowering intensity and although Rocco wanted to speak his mind, his thoughts were being slowly taken away by images of punishing shafts cutting through sweaty legs and nubile ass cheeks as if they were made of butter. His mind spun with her words, a flesh-colored top bobbing up and down before the fall.

“Cocks and mouths are perfect for one another because you get to taste all of them, the sweet and the salty parts, as they drip and explode, and wash away my resistance. What I wouldn’t do for one now... or two... or three... as many as my drooling tongue could take. God, I want cock so fucking much!”

Vanessa held the crystal ornament once again and spun it one last time, this time on her right hand, which she had extended past his field of sight. Rocco’s head instinctively followed the strange motion, his eyes seeing past the crystal and focusing on the two inebriated friends playing their losing game of pool.

“Look at the size of those cues. The tip may be small but they’re so big. I bet they have big cocks, too. I bet if I could suck them, it would be the greatest pleasure of my otherwise meaningless life. I want to do it so badly. I need to it right now.”

Rocco licked his lower lip. He had long passed the stage of floating inside her impromptu trance and was now drowning in it completely. His feet stumbled on the chair’s legs as he tried to get up, mumbling:

“I... I have to go now.”

“Yes, you do. Sooner than later for pleasure doesn’t wait for long. Go. Fight for the taste you so desperately want, and don’t take no for an answer. I never do.”

Rocco fumbled through the bar, fly partially open, hands and mouth dying to feast on another man’s erect phallus no matter the cost. He dropped to his knees as he approached the pool table, and jumped at the legs of the older brother, leaving an impression of teeth on his denim pants. The commotion that followed was a glorious spectacle of swinging cues, kicks in the nuts, and one very confused man thinking to himself that engaging a stranger the way he did was not and would never be acceptable.

It was in the middle of his trance-induced epiphany that Darla finally walked in twenty minutes past the scheduled hour, sporting a combo of one shoulder ribbed pink top and black leather skirt. Even without understanding the full context of the situation, one glance at Rocco’s battered face while the other two other men called him every variation of “faggot” they could think of was enough to get a laugh out of her.

“I see you’ve been busy.” Darla said as she sat next to her friend. “You didn’t have trouble getting here, I hope.”

“No trouble at all, but why do you always want to meet in such sleazy places, anyway?”

“Because it’s fun to arrive a little late and see the mayhem you caused in the meantime...”

“I’m not that predictable!”

“Yes, you kind of are, but never dull. That’s why I like you so much.”

Vanessa pocketed the crystal ball and asked: “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Darla ordered a Pilsner which soon became two and said: “I’m getting divorced.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. I realized Bill and I simply don’t work out. Friends? Sure. Occasional lovers? Cool. Husband and wife? A disaster waiting to happen, and it just did.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you really? You always told me you didn’t like him.”

“True, but I don’t like to see you get hurt, either. You deserve to be happy. I thought you really had it going this time.”

“As did I but things are never that simple. Besides... there’s someone else.”

“Oh? Is he cheating on you? Because if that has anything to do with it, I’ll be happy to teach him a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

“No need for that.” Darla reassured her, one hand laid on her left leg. “No cheating so far but, even if there were any, he wouldn’t be the one to blame but me.”

“That changes things. Who’s the guy you’re chasing after this time?”

Darla blushed like an innocent Catholic schoolgirl who had just seen a porn movie for the first time. “That’s the thing... it’s not a man. It’s my boss’ older daughter and I think she’s into me, too.”

“I see. I never expected to see you realize something like that at your age, but I’m glad, so congrats.

“Thanks. Not sure what I’m going to do about it just yet, which is why I wanted to talk to you if you don’t mind.”

“No problem, but do you mind if we take it elsewhere? I think I’ve been here long enough already.”

“Okay.”

They left the smoke and booze fest behind and embraced the promises the full moon night closing in offered. Vanessa couldn’t wait to hear more of her friend’s blooming desires and perhaps even strengthen them with the help of a couple perfectly framed hypnotic suggestions. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time she got inside her head. Whatever came to be, success was assured and predictable, too.

((I hope you had fun with this little tale. I always do when writing. Want to have more fun with me? Support my site - https://www.sbspellbound.net - through my patreon page - https://www.patreon.com/sbspellbound - and it can be yours, because you’ve yet to see everything I can create. Feedback is always welcome at my e-mail address, too: sbstories@hotmail.com. Thanks in advance.))

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