The Hypnotist's Assistants
Chapter 8

Copyright© 2007 by frog

Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 8 - Ken, an amazingly regimented man with a vivid imagination, has his orderly life disrupted by a hypnotist's influence. Are he and his lovely, conservative wife, Beth, under hypnosis or is it just Ken's imagination? This is a mind-control story with many twists and surprises, mostly at Ken's expense. Starts slow, but heats up.

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Coercion   Mind Control   Hypnosis   Heterosexual   Slut Wife   Interracial   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Size  

Ken felt for the bulky gun holstered under his coat, steeled his courage, and then entered the dark alleyway behind the Klub Kasbah. He had tried to call Beth earlier. No answer. Some wooden boxes left in a pile allowed him to climb up to a dirty window high on the back wall. The window was so dirty that he couldn't see anything inside. Carefully, he scraped away years of grunge.

After some effort, a tiny peephole through the filth allowed Ken to see a few shapes and features in the room... obviously he was peering into Roger and Darlene's dressing room, but beyond that recognition was difficult. People were more moving shapes than anything else, although the form of Darlene, the assistant, was pretty easy to determine. One or perhaps two others sat on the couch with backs to the window. Except for the occasional movement of something resembling head and shoulder, they were unrecognizable.

Ken pressed his ear to the dirty window pane.

"Don't give me a bunch of shit," shouted Darlene clearly. "I was the one who had to suck the son-of-a-bitch's dick... remember? I'm the one who had to take one for the team, not you."

Someone else with back to the window obviously was the focus of Darlene's diatribe. Ken squinted again through the almost opaque pane to no avail.

Ken pressed his ear again to the window.

"Sorry, but that whole thing was necessary, not only to test his receptivity level, but also to make him subconsciously vested... the guilt factor, they call it... a powerful force.

"I know, I know... but knowing doesn't make the taste in my mouth go away any quicker."

"Don't shit a bull-shitter, Darlene... I'll bet you have sucked a goodly share of cock in your time..."

"Fuck you and the horse you rode in on," snarled Darlene.

A chill flowed down Ken's spine as he digested those words. I have been fucked by these people... again, he thought, again and again and again.

Ken's mind was filled with thought of revenge and hate. Unfortunately for him, present also were thoughts of doubt and fear.

He listened again.

"Hey, this is business... just business... that's all. Speaking of business, I say we cut Ken Smith loose... and Beth too. Even if he remains highly receptive, I think he has become too dangerous," droned the man's voice.

"No," answered Darlene. "Too valuable... much too valuable. The combination of Beth and Ken are very, very rare."

"What about Carmen Schafer? Why not switch to her?"

"She might work, but her husband likely will not. We don't know enough about them to judge anyway. They have only been in the club once and my gut tells me that she wasn't fully under when she raised her hand the other afternoon. I think the bitch is just an ordinary exhibitionist. I think she was just playing along... showing her tits under the guise of hypnosis."

"Yeah, but the exhibitionism, handled correctly, could create a wonderful subject... plus, she is fucking beautiful!"

"Leave the subjects to us and we'll all make a lot of money," demanded Darlene.

"Ok, but this fucking mess has to be fixed right now or we, that is, you will be in a heap of shit," the man said. "I'm outta here... and I expect everything to be back to normal by the time I get back."

In a blur of shapes and shadows, the man appeared to head out the door.

I have to act now, thought Ken. Beth is here again... I can feel it. And, I've been fucked over by these ass holes to many times and too many ways! Now they will pay... dearly!


The dressing room door cracked open an inch and a heavily made-up eye peeked out. The barrel of a gun suddenly was thrust into the space occupied by the eye. Darlene tried to late to slam the door shut. The force of Ken's entry slammed her back against the table which again was filled with stacks of money.

"Don't talk," Ken demanded. "Don't say a fucking word or you die!"

"Ok, ok," whispered Darlene holding her hand up as if to block some projectile. "Just don't do anything stupid."

Gravity pulled the door slowly closed again. Ken suddenly realized that there was another person in the room. He began to redirect his aim back and forth between two points first at the hypnotist's assistant and then at the person standing in the shadows behind Darlene.

"Move back," he ordered.

Darlene remained motionless. Suddenly Ken recognized the person behind Darlene and a flood of memories came pouring back into his mind.

It was Nita Jackson.

Ice cubes... panties... Nita... her name is Nita... that's it! he thought. Finally, the vague connection between the mysterious Nita and panties became clear in Ken's mind. I saw her panties... she was on stage... with Beth... with Beth naked!

Nita showed no reaction whatsoever to Ken's sudden presence in the room. Instead, she stood quietly, head lolling to the side, eyes closed. And, she wore the filmy red dress... the now all-to-familiar see-through red dress.

Ken whirled back toward Darlene brandishing his gun as he did so. His hands now were visibly shaking with both fear and anger... a very dangerous combination.

Darlene immediately assumed a sort of defensive posture. Ken anger turned to laughter at the sight of her... a threatening Karate pose by an overly made-up old woman in a dingy sequined dress.

"Where's Beth?" said Ken.

"She is on stage," said Darlene reluctantly, "with Roger."

"She is what? What the fuck? You are still exploiting my wife? Jesus, I know that I made myself abundantly clear... that shit will not go on anymore! On stage... again... I can't believe it... you bastards!!! Is she out there sucking cock?"

Darlene made no response. She simply remained in her funny-looking, yet deadly serious pose.

Ken continued, "Apparently you mother-fuckers were not paying attention during my last visit. I want my wife out from under your control. I want you to fix it so that only I will be able to put her under a fucking spell. And, if you pull any more tricks, I will fucking kill both of you... dead! Clear?"

Darlene again said nothing.

"I said... clear?" With his last word, Ken became a sudden blur and surprised Darlene with the back of his hand across her face. She fell backward in a heap on the floor. Her legs splayed a part revealing mesh hose with a very large hole in them on the inside of one thigh. The hose entrapped formerly white panties underneath.

"Do I have your attention, bitch?"

"Stop... don't hurt me," shouted Darlene dabbing at her lip in search of new blood. "We will do whatever you ask... no tricks!"

She made no attempt to adjust her clothing. She seemed oblivious to the fact that her costume was in disarray and her ugly, varicose vein-covered legs were on display despite her mesh stockings.

"That's better. First, I want my wife. If she out there kissing another guy's ass, get her the fuck in here right now!"

"You don't understand," screamed Darlene.

"I said NOW!" screamed Ken. He point the weapon directly at her forehead.

With that, Darlene lunged to her feet. Her eyes flashed with anger.

"Listen to me, you son-of-a-bitch. Your wife has been programmed... very carefully programmed. She has a long and complicated set of triggers, so she has to be taken through her whole routine in order for it all to work. Otherwise, she could get unstable and then she might begin to remember, but only in parts. That might send her to years of therapy... or just fuck up her mind completely. I know that you don't want that... right?"

Ken's eyebrows knitted.

"She will be coming off stage in just a moment," continued Darlene. "We are getting close to the end of the show. So, you are going to have to trust us for a while. Now put that fucking gun down."

Darlene pressed a finger to her lip again and examined it for traces of blood. Her eyes flashed again.

"And... before you become to self-righteous... remember that you are the one who wants to take advantage of your wife. You! We didn't force you into that. You came to us asking for control. If you want control, ok, no problem, but that means you have to trust us... and you have to stop brandishing that goddamned gun around and hitting people... me, in particular!" Understand, pencil-dick?"

Darlene now wore the most condescending look that she could muster. Her tangled, discolored teeth made that statement seem all the more serious.

"I don't trust you people at all," snarled Ken. "I'll put the gun away... but, never forget that it is there... and I'll use it... and that's a fact!"

"Mr. Smith, if you want to learn how to get your sweet wifey to suck your little wienie, then I guess you will have to trust us," shouted Darlene. "Now I have to go out there on stage and help Roger finish the show. I already have been back here too long. I have no fucking idea how this may have affected our usual routine... it probably is all fucked up."

Her eyes spoke with even more authority than her voice. Her eyes also imparted a very large dose of sheer hatred.

"So, you will have to fucking wait here... you have no other choice if you want your wife back with mind intact... and, by the way, don't mess with Mrs. Jackson. She needs to stay in a deep trance. So, don't disturb her. Do you get it, shit-for-brains... this is fucking serious stuff."

Darlene didn't wait for Ken's answer. She and her cheap sequins, the few that were left, swept from the room leaving Ken standing with his mouth hanging open. The slamming door made him react with a start. Beads of sweat had popped out on his forehead and now tiny streams of perspiration began to trickle down into his eyes. He turned to find a tissue and almost bumped headlong into the sleeping Mrs. Jackson.

She seems so peaceful, thought Ken.

Ken's eyes fell on the dark aureoles on display just under the gossamer red fabric. Nipples that obviously had never fed a hungry child pressed upward again the red covering. Ken's face instantly flushed red. In a sort of naïve test, he waved his hand in front of her face and sought some reaction. Nita was oblivious to all his machinations.

Ken slowly circumnavigated the sleeping woman, drinking in all her beauty. She was very different in color, body type, and shape than Beth. Her milk-chocolate skin made it easier to see through the flimsy red dress. Her perfect round ass, narrow waist, and firm breasts fit together to form a very sexy woman.

All the while, Nita continued in blissful sleep.

Ken's cock began to harden. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was unseen and then he sank downward on one knee in order to view Nita's neatly trimmed, kinky bush up close. It stood in dark contrast to the fabric that covered it.

Ken was so close now that he could smell her essence. Only the gossamer dress stood between him and his prize. After another protective glance toward the door, he carefully took the hem of her soft dress and began to lift it upward.

All of a sudden the door behind Ken flew open and in walked his wife, Beth.

Ken jumped up, whirled around, and started to blurt out all his good excuses for being in such a compromising position.

"Checking out Mrs. Jackson, I see," said Roger. "She is a beauty, that she is... a little on the skinny side for my taste, but very sexy."

"I... I..." Ken stammered in response and then abruptly he became mute.

His wife stood in front of him wearing a nearly-nothing red dress exactly like the one Nita wore. She also appeared to be in a deep trance although she had walked in under her own power. Ken had a mad urge to throw something over his wife's semi-nakedness so that her modesty would somehow be preserved.

 
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