An Evil Hypnotist
By
Jay Merson
© Copyright. Jay Merson 2001
The right of Jay Merson to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.
Smashwords Edition
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter 1
The slut wasn’t even aware of what was happening. She stared blankly up at his sweaty face and her body jerked violently as he pounded hard into her, forcing his cock further up into her pussy with each excited thrust. Her look was glazed and distant; a detached state of numbed netherworld, one in which her body could be used and she was helpless to prevent it being abused, or to even recognise the fact that it was being so. Only the teeth marks on her breasts and the sperm inside her pussy would later give any outward signs to her of anything being amiss – when that is, she finally awoke from her trance.
***
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mandy,” Claire dismissed and then lowered her voice as heads turned in the small half-filled snack bar.
“So how do you explain the teeth marks then?” Mandy asked with the distress she felt sounding clearly in her voice.
Claire sat back and shrugged her shoulders, a broad grin broke across her face and her voice was full of teasing when she spoke.
“Perhaps you have a man at that flat of yours,” she raised her eyebrows knowingly, “That you perhaps neglected to tell me about.”
Mandy huffed and her mood darkened.
“I wish,” she said solemnly, “At least that would account for the marks.”
Claire, recognising her friend’s deep hurt sat forward and placed a comforting hand on her arm.
“Whatever it is that caused them it most certainly is not ghosts or poltergeists you silly girl.”
“It could be,” Mandy protested weakly trying to defend her suggestion against her friend’s mocking.
“Okay,” Claire stated more positively and sat back crossing her legs casually, “Let’s reason this out fully and logically shall we? What were your movements, where exactly did you go yesterday?”
Mandy looked thoughtful and sniffed heavily to try to stem the building flood of tears welling up within her.
“Work at eight-thirty… no, it was nearer nine, I was late.”
“Anything there,” Claire asked and then added, “What about that really good looking bloke in the stores that wants to get into your knickers?”
Mandy gave a half-laugh and then shook her head.
“If only,” she said wistfully.
“The dentists at eleven and then back to work by twelve thirty.”
Claire pulled a puzzled face.
“Nothing there then, Okay, lunch time, where did you go then?”
Mandy’s bottom lip began to quiver, as hopes of solving the puzzle seemed to lessen by the moment.
“If you remember, I had lunch with you,” she said in a defeated tone and dabbed at her tear-filled eyes with a tissue.
Claire giggled.
“Well it wasn’t me,” she chuckled, “I certainly didn’t nibble your breasts.”
Mandy began to sob softly and pulled a pained expression.
“Don’t make fun of it Claire, it isn’t the least bit funny.”
Claire sighed.
“I was just trying to lighten the situation a bit. So after lunch, where then?”
“Back to work, home, made and ate a meal. I visited my therapist…”
“Ah ha,” Claire blurted and raised her eyebrows.
Mandy shook her head.
“His is nearly fifty, straight-laced and wouldn’t say boo to a goose, certainly not him.”
Claire sighed heavily.
“Where next?”
“Caught the bus home and then bed,” Mandy blurted out and then began to cry openly, “This is doing no good at all.”
Claire soothed her for some minutes before the girl had composed herself enough to continue.
“Bed you said – alone?”
Even Mandy had to give a little chuckle at that remark before she again lapsed into her dark mood, the mystery of the teeth marks on her breasts remained.
“There is something else,” Mandy said almost inaudibly.
“Not on your bum as well,” Claire sniggered.
Mandy shook her head.
“There was sperm, in my pussy.”
Claire suppressed a giggle and then her expression dropped as the realisation hit home.
“You’ve been raped?” She sought confirmation.
Mandy broke down completely and hugged her friend as the heaving sobs racked her body.
“But when or how I don’t even know,” she blurted between sobs. “What is happening to me Claire?”
***
Laurence Myers sat on the bench in the park with a folded newspaper over his lap; it helped to disguise the lump in his trousers where his stiff cock was pushing the material up to form a tent. He ogled the young woman with the pushchair, her shapely legs and her cute little bum as it wiggled when she walked. About twenty-five he guessed her to be, good-looking, slim and with a pair of tits he would simply love to feel and to kiss. His cock throbbed that aching need and his thoughts were firmly now on the skimpy little panties she would surely be wearing beneath the tight skirt. He imagined the silky firm rounds of her buttocks; the firm mound of her pussy beneath the flimsy material of her panties and… His cock reared and he felt a blob of lubrication squeeze from the eyehole.
Things were going well but not progressing fast enough for him he felt. He had fucked one slut already but he needed more, many more and intended to get them.
Lawrence Myers, aging failure in life had at last applied himself to learn skills that could be put to good use, skills that would not only provide a decent income for him, but would improve his sex life a thousand percent. His looks were unimportant now; he could have any woman he wanted, any woman that he came into contact with, and best of all, not one of the sluts would or could refuse him.
He chuckled and crossed his legs to ease some of the strain pressing on his pulsing cock. Tonight he would try again; he was improving daily but needed to perfect his newly acquired hypnotic skills. To apply them in his work and to ensnare the filthy little sluts that flaunted themselves before him each and every day of the week. He chuckled softly to himself as he made his mental selections of the women passing by. The middle aged slut tart that thought she was a respectable housewife, she would suck his cock and swallow his come willingly and best of all, she wouldn’t even know that she was doing it. He sniggered as the posing woman passed by, striding delicately and properly, avoiding eye contact as all married women seemed to. The truth of it was that she was a whore; one that would be an animal in bed but that portrayed a false façade in public, as all women did.
Perhaps even the teenaged floozy at the bakery, the one with the pigtails and the oversized tits that always offered them with her low cut jumpers and tops. The one that always sneered in disgust at him when she noticed him ogling her backside and breasts, the haughty little slut that felt she was untouchable and out of reach to all but those she should chose. His cock jerked at the thought of licking the little bitch’s pussy for her, of sticking his cock up her backside and making her plead for mercy. Lawrence tensed and grunted, he moaned softly as his cock jerked to squirt his sperm into the insides of his trousers. Tonight couldn’t come quickly enough for him, he needed a female body, sex and good hot sex, but on his terms. Something he fully intended to get – and no one would stop him.
Chapter 2
“My knee,” the woman said with a pained expression and an equal amount of pain sounding in her voice, “I hope massage will help ease it somewhat.”
Lawrence Myers nodded politely and smiled, his response was automatic but his thoughts were on her body beneath her clothing.
“I’m sure we can help you,” he said smoothly and confidently.
The slut was obviously well off, money simply oozed from her. Expensive designer clothes, gold jewellery and equally expensive perfume, the scent of which filled the small room that he called his surgery. Aging, about forty-five he guessed her to be, but well maintained with a decent body on her and a wonderful pair of firm tits. His cock began to stir and rise as the painted slut fluttered her eyelids and smiled at him. The tart was upper class and knew it, she looked down on him and all that had to work for a living, he would enjoy this one for that sake alone and the sex she could provide, an added bonus.
“Please,” he said reassuringly, “Lay back on the couch and make yourself comfortable, then we will start putting your knee in shape.”
He watched as she struggled up onto the couch, her slim and shapely nylon-clad legs making a cock-jerking swishing sound as the material rubbed against each other.
She lay still and slightly tensed, on her back with her arms by her side and the hem of her pleated skirt resting mid way up her slender thighs. A tantalising hint of her form was portrayed as her skirt lay over her slim hips and her thighs to outline her shape wonderfully.
Lawrence busied himself angling the lamp to shine down onto her face.
“It is important that I see your facial expression and thereby detect if I am causing you pain,” he explained.
“How considerate of you,” she said with sincerity.
His cock jerked as he placed his hands on her knee and felt her give an involuntary little shudder. It began to throb incessantly as he massaged his hands over her knee and leg slightly below and above the joint, the feel of her thigh though the thin nylon was a delight not to be missed, the warmth of her body radiated through to him to push his level of arousal higher still. His cock attained a full and hard erection and his ball-sac firmed, full and loaded with his sperm. His groin ached, a dull throbbing ache that was building steadily, building to a pitch where there could be no relief except an explosive and powerful orgasm.
The pitch of his voice changed to a low and velvety droning.
“Relax,” he said, “Look into the light and relax, feel the warmth flowing through you.”
He massaged her knee for several minutes, lifting it slightly with his left hand to massage beneath the joint, peeking under the back of her thigh as the little skirt fell away from her leg. His cock reared in excitement as he glimpsed the tiny white panties clinging to the rounds of her buttocks. He ogled her body, inspecting every part of her, from her slim thighs and hips, up to the thrusting points of her breasts, then back down to the mound of her pubic arch as it pushed up under the thin material of her skirt.
“Relax and rest,” he intoned, “Sleepy, you feel so sleepy, warm and cosy, relaxed and at peace with yourself. Sleep. Sleep.”
The woman gave a soft sigh and half-closed her eyes.
“Sleep,” he droned in a low and practised tone, “Sleep.”
Lawrence leaned over the woman as he massaged her knee, checking her facial muscles for signs of tension and found none. His heart beat ten to the dozen, sheer thrill pumping through his body as the woman fell under his spell.
Breath escaped her lips and her body went limp, her expression one of complete calm and reposing bliss.
“Can you hear me,” he asked softly in a normal pitch of voice and gained no response. Again he lowered his tone, “You are at my command, confirm with a yes that this is so.”
A moment passed and her full red lips parted slowly.
“Yes,” she said almost inaudibly in a distant and detached sounding voice.
His right hand slid further up the inside of her thigh, to the hem of her skirt to caress and massage as though a normal part of the treatment. He had to be sure that she was under before he ventured further.
“Say your name for me.”
The little voice was soft and pitiful, girlish even with a complete sound of innocence.
“Maureen Spires.”
“Good,” he praised.
Lawrence used his left hand to take a pin from the lapel of his jacket and pressed the sharp the point into the back of her hand. The woman flinched not one bit, no reaction whatsoever did she give.
“Excellent,” he muttered and moved his trembling hand further up her thigh, under her skirt and to the top of her thigh just short of her crotch. He gasped as his hand ran over the thick band of the top of her stocking onto the creamy, warm bare flesh at the top.
“Say cock for me.”
“Cock,” she responded.
“Cock sucker.”
“Cock sucker,” she replied automatically.
Lawrence felt his shaft throb almost painfully and slid his hand up to press the side of it against her pussy and gained no reaction.
“You are mine, slut,” he muttered and then chuckled.
With his left hand he lifted the front of her skirt and folded it back onto her stomach, revealing her tight white panties and the stocking tops gripping around her upper thighs. His hand caressed and felt her mound, stroking his middle finger up and down the slit of her pussy and pressing the thin material into her crack. His trembling fingers eased under the side elastic and touched her hairy pussy lips before easing the swollen lips apart and pushing up slightly into her body.
“Is that good, slut?” he asked in a throaty tone, “Do you like having your pussy fingered?”
No response came.
“Say yes, you whore,” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“Dirty slut,” he said excitedly and pushed both fingers fully up inside her wet interior, “Filthy, teasing slut.”
For many minutes he fingered her silently, pumping his fingers in and out of her wet hole and delighting in the fact that she knew nothing of it. Lawrence pulled his fingers out and sucked her juices from his digits as he looked down on the resting woman.
Fumbling in his haste and moaning constantly he undid his trousers and freed his throbbing cock. Lawrence took her little hand and placed it on his stiff rod.
“Hold it for me,” he said in a dry and thrilled tone.
He watched spellbound as her slim delicate fingers circled his thick shaft and then closed around the pulsing warm rod. The long red-painted fingernails stood out in stark contrast to the pale skin of her tiny hand, he delighted in the way her little hand made his cock seem so much bigger, twice the size it actually was. He felt powerful and all commanding, so in charge and his level of confidence high.
“Mmmm,” he moaned aloud at the feel of her sweet little grip on him.
“Tell me how big and nice it is.”
Her soft lips parted.
“Nice and big,” she said.
“Say it again as though it is a prized possession to be worshipped and revered. Say it with all of the sexuality you possess and convey those feelings to me.”
“Mmmm, so nice and so very big,” she said in a low and husky tone.
Lawrence closed his eyes and rested his head back to savour the moment.
“Repeat it.”
He murmured his delight as the slut again extolled her pleasure in a cock-thrilling low voice filled with simmering sexual need.
“Wank it,” he panted as his excitement built.
Her hand stroked back and forth, rolling the foreskin first over and to cover the head of his cock and then stretching it back tightly against his stiff shaft.
“That’s it you dirty slut, do what comes naturally to whores like you.”
He watched the woman wanking his cock, delighting in the fact that the snotty bitch would probably faint if she could actually know what she was doing. For several minutes he savoured the delightful feelings that her hand produced for him, then he broke away as he felt his orgasm beginning to rise.
Eagerly he grasped the sides of her little panties and wriggled them down to her ankles and then off over her shoes to leave her pussy exposed to his view.
“Draw your knees up and part them wide, show me your pussy you dirty tart.”
He moaned his appreciation of the sight as she complied, parting her thighs and exposing her pussy fully. He loved the way her moist pink inner lips peeked out in vivid contrast to the dark thatch of her black pubic hair.