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Hypnotizing a New Slave

A snoopy home invader gets much more than she bargained for when she tries to free a sex slave.

By Rhea CorvosPublished 4 years ago 4 min read
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Photos by Garin Chadwick on Unsplash and geralt on Pixabay

The spiral turned. Endlessly it spun, pulling her eyes deep, pulling her mind down, down, down. Once, she had been conscious of words, but now they simply flowed into her. Deeper. Sexier. Her breath was quick and her mind was blank. Deeper. Obedient. Her pussy throbbed with need as her bare thighs became wet. They were rubbing together independent of her will, independent of her control.

She had no control. She had no will.

The spiral was all she knew, all she had ever known. Falling deeper into the spiral made her obedient, and being obedient meant pleasing Mistress. Mistress wanted a light, quick tongue on her delicious cherry-clit. Mistress wanted a long, strong hand deep in her twat. She would serve Mistress and please her, and the understanding, deeper than knowledge, aroused her.

The spiral turned. The spiral...

Disappeared.

Darkness enveloped her and she screamed. Confused, entranced, bewildered by sudden light, she struggled against the hands of someone who was not Mistress. Where was Mistress?

"Don't worry! I've got you!"

"Mistress!" she wailed, fighting. Where was the spiral? What was this awful crowding of thoughts in her head? Where was the sweet control of her beloved Mistress?

"You're free! You're OK!" It was a woman's voice and a woman's hands, but not the ones she wanted. In the light she recognized things for which she had unwelcome words. Chairs. Screen. Whips. Couches. And in the corner—could it be? Her heart seized.

"Mistress!"

She threw herself to her knees before the woman tied in the chair, the beautiful redhead in leather corset and lace panties. There was a terrible bruise on her eye and her perfect head bobbed as though barely clinging to consciousness. Mistress. Broken. She reached up to stroke the bruise gently, so gently, and Mistress met her eyes. In those eyes, those hypnotic jungle-green eyes, was a depth of love more profound than the most endless spiral, the deepest trance.

Behind her, the woman was still talking. "I was walking by and saw her beating you through the window. Well, I was kind of walking by—I suppose I might have been investigating your begonias, heh-heh. Anyway, I thought it warranted some extra diligence, so I came in and found you here. Lord knows what she was doing to you. I'm just glad you had a heavy vase on hand!"

She turned slowly to look at this monster, this interloper, this invader. Black hair rimmed a round, pert face. Pretty, but oh so stiff. Oh so starched. Starched, pointy bra under starched white blouse. Starched, pointy mouth. She felt her chest roil with lava.

The interloper was inspecting their special room as though it were a museum or a real estate offering, running a finger over flat surfaces and giggling at the restraints. "My goodness. She's really into some weird stuff, huh? I guess the next thing is to call the police and, what, deprogram you." The interloper turned with a pointy grin. "Don't worry. You'll never see your 'Mistress' again."

The lava boiled over. Her hands shook. The vase was on the floor. How often had she held it in straight out in front of her for hours according to Mistress's commands? How often had she fucked it, her hypnosis so deep that she knew only that she'd been commanded to feel attraction for this blue and white piece of pottery? So many precious memories, all watercolor-painted and aglow in the recollection of Mistress's sweet and irresistible mind control strategies. The woman who could give her the submission she so desperately craved was Mistress, only Mistress. Her injured, brutalized Mistress.

She hefted the vase. Its weight made her think of her eyelids sinking down, down, down as she fell into a helpless state of complete obedience. It made her think of submission and lust and unbridled days of fucking.

But it could be put to other uses too.

The interloper's face hovered between puzzlement and irritation. "Now what are you going to do with that?"

She allowed a grim smile to play on her face. Nobody hurt her Mistress. Not while she had anything to say about it.

...

The spiral turned. Endless, it pulled her deep into an erotic sleep, the words of Mistress crooning in her ear, displacing all thought. What a good girl she was. What an obedient submissive. How Mistress loved her. Her pussy trilled with joy as an eager tongue lapped at it, probing, thirsty. Between her legs, a black-haired head sucked her clit between feverish, sloppy licks. Black haired, but empty within, it had been washed permanently clean by new programming. Its owner had learned to love Mistress's hypnotic spiral... and only Mistress's hypnotic spiral. It had taken many restraints and all of Mistress's skills, but the effort was paying off now.

She sighed and leaned back into Mistress's arms. Her body was electric with sex and her mind was enslaved to Mistress's delicate tweaking of her nipples. How wonderful to fall deep again. How good to accept her complete helplessness and submission again. The spiral turned in her mind as she climaxed for the first time that night, writhing in blissful ecstasy and aware only that she was safe under Mistress's control once more.

Rhea is a submissive and writer of hypnosis erotica. You can find more of her work on Amazon and MCStories or support her on Patreon. If you like her free erotic hypnosis stories, be sure to tip her!

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Rhea Corvos

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