The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Web of Trust — Chapter 12

I wasn’t sure whose bright idea it had been to put a highly skilled hypnotist into a prison full of targets who were ripe for his talent, but due to the nature of his alleged crimes, as well as the fact that he might interfere with witnesses, Peter Rhodes was being held here pending trial. I could wish he’d been put into a federal detention center, as was normally the case with pretrial detainees, but sometimes due to overcrowding or for other administrative reasons, we got one, as had happened with Rhodes. So, like it or not, it was my job to deal with him.

Collectively, prisoners had few morals and poor judgement, but many also had the intelligence and creativity to maintain complex fantasies—all qualities that either contributed directly to hypnotic susceptibility or to a willingness to do things outside typical moral boundaries. For that matter, even some of the correctional officers would be potential targets for someone of his skill, since they were trained to obey authority, which also lent itself to hypnotic susceptibility.

I’d do my best to keep an eye on staff and prisoners alike, but it was pretty much impossible to tell if someone had been hypnotized unless you caught them while they were under or shortly thereafter. Those that were hypnotized frequently would become more susceptible, of course, which was something I could test for, but it was hardly feasible to do baseline suggestibility testing on the entire prison staff, then re-test every week or two just on the off chance that an inmate might have somehow managed to hypnotize one or two of them. Even if I had the manpower and the time, the staff would probably think I was a paranoid lunatic, not to mention the fact that a lot of people deluded themselves into believing that they couldn’t be hypnotized—especially the macho types that were common amongst the staff.

If Rhodes had done even half the things it was alleged he had, he would’ve been far better off at Bridgewater, where they could keep a closer eye on him. But that, of course, was the problem: before he could be sent to Bridgewater or some other facility for the criminally insane, his guilt needed to be established. Then, the judge would need to be convinced that Bridgewater was the better choice for him, instead of a traditional facility. But trying to get him into such a facility now, rather than after trial, might actually set him up for an insanity defense, as rare as those were.

During his time with us, it would be my responsibility as a forensic psychologist to not only interview and assess Rhodes himself in terms of his mental health needs, but also to help put together a psychological profile for the prosecution. If everything was going to schedule, our first session together would be in just a couple of minutes.

“Dr. Rhodes”, I greeted him formally after he was brought to my office. “It’s good to meet you. I’m Dr. Emmerson.” Rhodes gave me a considering look, obviously not expecting my friendliness and professional demeanor.

“Dr. Emmerson”, he nodded politely, taking a seat in the chair opposite me, following my gesture of invitation to do so. I could see his eyes wandering around the room, clearly taking note of the video camera. There were video feeds most places that prisoners had access to, except as required by law, though unlike most other cameras around the institution, mine had no audio feed. The only other such areas were the medical facilities and a meeting room for attorney visits. Even without audio, though, I was glad that our meetings were recorded because it gave Rhodes little opportunity for any funny business.

“This first meeting will be quick—more of a meet-and-greet, I guess you could call it. In our appointment this afternoon, I’ll be doing your initial assessment for fitness to stand trial, as well as assessing you for SOMP—that’s the sexual offender management program—since you’ve been accused of a sexual crime”, I informed him.

“I can save you some time on the first one”, Rhodes smiled, though it was the smile of a predator, I thought. “I fully understand the nature of the charges against me; I have counsel; and as a PsyD, I judge myself mentally competent to make informed, independent decisions.”

He was grinning widely now, clearly amused at the idea of evaluating his own psychological fitness. Yes, that was definitely the smile of a predator. He’d understood the intent behind my professional courtesy and had engaged, no doubt thinking of it as some kind of game. I supposed it was at that. It was like a game of chess where each of us was skilled enough to see the other’s more obvious moves for what they were, including the short-term strategy behind them. It was our long-term strategy that would matter, though, and that remained hidden, hopefully mine as much from him as his was from me. While I hadn’t really expected the professional courtesy to escape his notice, the fact that he’d picked up on my strategy so quickly suggested that he wasn’t someone I should let my guard down around.

“As for your—what did you call it? SOMP?—that’s a little outside my bailiwick, so for that one, you’ll have to ask me specific questions. I’ll answer as best I’m able, though there’s likely to be a bit of a disconnect there, since I’m operating with the knowledge that I’m innocent, while you, I’m sure, will be operating with an assumption of guilt”, he offered smugly.

Innocent, my ass! Of course, I couldn’t exactly come out and say that while maintaining our façade of professionalism, so instead, I switched to the standard questionnaire, watching him closely for signs of deception, manipulation, or prevarication. I wasn’t disappointed. Questions that had obvious goals were often met with what I thought were dishonest answers. The first question, asking him to rate his level of agreement with the statement “I feel that others deserve punishment when they treat me poorly”, for example, was met with a carefully controlled neutral expression and the words “strongly disagree”. At that point, I decided to keep two sets of answers: the ones he stated and what I thought his answers would have been if he were being honest, based on his body language, verbal cues, and overall demeanor.

In response to another statement, “I can change people’s minds”, he laughed and responded self-assuredly, “Can’t we both?” He could hardly have said otherwise. Any trained psychologist would know techniques to do so, be it the hypnosis Rhodes was accused of or something more innocent like commiserating with someone to gain their trust and encourage them to be more receptive to your points. The fact that he included me in his answer, however, was manipulative. I noted that in the margin.

Despite his best efforts, Rhodes exhibited a slight tendency towards dominance, even in his answers as given. In my re-interpreted answers, he rated very highly. What surprised me, though, was that the more sociopathic responses rated fairly low, with a few notable exceptions. His level of empathy actually seemed quite high, which was not at all common in a sex offender. One possibility that came to mind that would explain the apparent contradiction was what was often referred to as white knight syndrome, which frequently combined empathy with a need for control. He was definitely not a traditional sex offender, though, that much was certain. I hadn’t scored his test yet, but I knew what responses I was used to seeing from various offender groups, and he didn’t fit neatly into any of them, regardless of whether I used his given responses or my interpretations. There were always outliers, though.

I admitted the unusualness of his response profile to him after the test was done. I was a bit surprised when he opened up more as a result of my comment, which led to a surprisingly insightful professional discussion of our respective interpretations of the purpose behind certain questions, how effective the questions would be in determining motives, and in a couple of cases, he even elaborated on answers he’d given during the test—seemingly truthfully—giving me further insight into who he was.

By the time he left my office, I’d been forced to admit that he’d very much earned the title of “doctor” that I’d been using with him so far. I’d even gained a certain level of respect for him despite the inherently adversarial nature of our relationship. I wasn’t unaware of his attempts to gain my sympathy, though. He was clearly manipulative, and I suspected that even some of the times I’d been certain he was being honest, he’d probably managed to deceive me about something, or that his honesty was part of a larger strategy.

What he hadn’t done, which had surprised me, was to try any of the traditional conversational hypnosis or neuro-linguistic programming techniques. Most of them had been proven to be utter hogwash, and if some of them weren’t, they likely wouldn’t be very effective on someone who was watching for them anyway, but I didn’t dare make assumptions. From what I’d discovered in my background research about him, Rhodes had been studying and practicing hypnosis intensely for about twenty-five years. Who knew what techniques he might have discovered during that time?

The absence of any such techniques suggested that he’d been deliberately steering clear of anything even remotely resembling them. There hadn’t even been any accidental wordings that raised red flags apart from his obvious attempts at manipulation. He was clearly someone who was used to watching every word he said—again, not surprising, given the accusations against him. Wording could be very important in hypnosis.

All things considered, it seemed clear that Rhodes knew we were adversaries, despite our professional repartee. He was going to be someone to watch out for, a fact which I was sure that he knew I knew. And I knew that he knew that, and on and on. Yes, this was definitely going to be a complex and demanding game—far more so than any of the other offenders I’d dealt with in my admittedly limited career.

Over the course of the next several weeks, I followed Rhodes’ adaptation to prison life, meeting with him roughly once a week at first to continue building my psychological profile of him, though I varied the schedule so he’d never know when to expect another session. Sometimes, I’d have him brought to my office; other times, I’d leave him in with the rest of the inmates, meeting him only briefly in a disused old prison cell where I normally conducted routine appointments.

While I managed to pick up a few more things about him despite his best efforts, I had to admit that we seemed fairly evenly matched. Our sessions were contests of will, filled with feints and jabs as we each sparred with one another, all the while maintaining an air of professional courtesy. It was quite a challenge dealing with him, and often left me feeling mentally drained afterwards. Whenever I called him to my office, I actually made it a point to schedule lighter, more straight-forward inmate interviews after him, or to interview him just before lunch, so that I had time to relax and ruminate on our discussions.

Those discussions temporarily came to a halt, however, when Rhodes ended up in the hospital wing with a broken leg as the result of an altercation with another inmate. That came as a bit of a surprise to me. This wasn’t a super-max, where violence between inmates was common—our highest-security inmates were medium, and they were housed in their own building. Rhodes himself was in one of several low-security housing units, or just “Low” as we normally referred to the group of them. While there were arguments often enough in Low, and the occasional shoving match, significant violence was unusual. Rhodes was very deliberate in everything he did, and he was affable enough that he should have been able to stay off most guys’ radars, assuming he’d wanted to.

What was Rhodes up to? Was this as simple as pissing someone off or was there more to it? A broken leg seemed like a long way to go just to achieve some goal, and it might even set his trial back, depending on how bad of a break it was. On a hunch, I asked the warden if I could review the footage of the incident. As new as I was, having only been here for a little over a year, the warden and I were still getting used to one another, but he saw no harm in my request and arranged for me to review the footage.

The officer the warden had assigned to help me was a no-nonsense kind of guy—gruff and taciturn. He probably didn’t say more than a dozen words the entire time I was there. The video feeds weren’t monitored 24/7, but the monitors were always on for any guard to look at when they were in the area, so once the guy had me set up with the footage on one monitor, he sat back and watched the others while he was waiting for me to be done.

As I watched the footage of the incident, I saw the aggressor walk up to Rhodes in one of the exercise areas. The two of them were talking, looking increasingly hostile, until the aggressor started pushing Rhodes around a little. At first, it looked like no more than a typical shoving match. The inmate—a burly man of mixed race—wasn’t on my client roster, and I couldn’t put a name to the face off-hand, but I remembered he had a reputation for anger issues. On the aggressor’s third shove, he put so much force into it that it sent Rhodes backwards several steps. Unfortunately, Rhodes had tripped over a workout bench in his unplanned retreat, his leg getting caught underneath and snapping in two as he fell. At that point, other inmates stepped between them, followed shortly by prison staff. I had a feeling that the fight itself might have been planned, but from what I’d seen, I got the impression that the leg break wasn’t.

That was confirmed when I spoke with the perpetrator briefly about what had caused the incident. He wasn’t the brightest bulb on the shelf, and he gave me little more information than that Rhodes was an asshole who probably deserved what he got, but he did mention that he hadn’t actually meant to hurt Rhodes…at least not that much. Even allowing that the broken leg was probably an accident, for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what Rhodes’ motive might have been in instigating a fight like this. It seemed highly unlikely that it was anything as simple as clashing personalities. Rhodes was too clever for something like that.

It had been a bad break, so Rhodes had briefly been transported to hospital to get it properly set and a cast put on. Being outside was always a concern, since inmates were notorious for trying to smuggle things back into the facility, and a cast would make an ideal hidey-hole. Rhodes didn’t strike me as the type, personally, but the correctional officers couldn’t take that risk, so two had gone with him, ensuring that even if one of them had to fill out paperwork or what have you, there was at least one officer with him at all times. The logs reported no incidents while he was out.

Now that Rhodes was back, he’d be in the on-site infirmary for a few days before being transferred to the SHU—the special housing unit—where he’d be subject to solitary confinement for his own safety. That would probably last a month or two, with regular visits from medical staff—mostly our resident physician’s assistant, my friend Tomás—to give him pain medication and check on his injury.

I was also obligated to check on him, since he was on my roster, but Rhodes was altered from his pain meds those first few days back, almost to the point of incomprehensibility. Even if he did say something interesting, it would likely be inadmissible in court. After a short visit to satisfy requirements, I wrote it up in my records as a lost cause and just asked Tomás to keep his ears open, in case Rhodes did say anything of interest.

Tomás was one of the few friends I’d made in the facility over the past year, thanks to the fact that we’d both been new hires due to a staffing shortage at the prison, along with the fact that we were roughly the same age. I made a point of stopping in to talk with him every day or two to check if Rhodes had displayed any sexually aggressive behavior or had made any attempt to manipulate any of the staff that Tomás was aware of, but Tomás assured me that Rhodes had been a model inmate during his time in the infirmary.

That was another thing that puzzled me—Rhodes was keeping out of trouble. Many sexual aggressors had difficulty with self-control, so when Rhodes had first arrived, I’d assumed that someone who’d had the balls to hypnotize both a federal agent and his son would neither have started there, nor would he stop there. Even after I’d gotten to know him better, and understood that he was capable of significant self-restraint, I’d still expect that at some point, he would have tried to hypnotize someone, and I’d asked a couple of guards to keep an eye out for any unusual behavior either from him or others he dealt with. So far, though, nobody had spotted any sign of wrong-doing.

Just after Rhodes was transferred to the SHU, I received a “gift” from the prosecutor that lent me a lot of insight into Rhodes’ sexual proclivities. It was a recording of the session where Rhodes had allegedly encouraged incestuous behavior between the FBI agent and his son. The audio was very muffled, but it had obviously been enhanced and was now mostly intelligible. Once I’d listened to it, there was no longer any doubt in my mind about what had happened that night. It wasn’t “alleged”, it was a fact. Rhodes had hypnotized the two of them to have sex with each other—and to enjoy it. What was more, this clearly wasn’t the first time he’d done so. No subjects would have responded so well to such casual suggestions as he’d given them unless there had been a lot of prior conditioning.

I’d been planning on interviewing the agent and his son for some time, but now, there was a sense of urgency to it. Conditioning as deep as theirs needed to be maintained and reinforced regularly. Without it, one of two things was likely to happen.

The first possibility was that they’d be drowning in guilt and shame over what had happened. If that was the case, they’d probably make very persuasive witnesses, even if their memories were a bit foggy or they didn’t remember the session at all. Their suffering would no doubt appeal to people.

The second possibility was that they’d begin to rationalize their behavior. If that was the case, they could well start inventing excuses for what Rhodes had done to them, and for what they’d done to each other. That had to be avoided at all costs. If they had sympathy towards him, or worse, decided that what they’d done was what they’d wanted to do all along, then it would be a lot harder to convince a jury that Rhodes was culpable. Doing so wasn’t directly part of my job, of course, but as a forensic psychologist, I understood better than most the importance of making sure the jury were sympathetic to the victims.

Still grappling with the revulsion of what I’d heard on that recording, I checked my files and contacted the father, Nicholas Moore. I did my best to sound neutral, explaining to him who I was and, in a very roundabout way, why it was important that I meet with him soon. As it turned out, he was on indefinite leave due to the events that had happened, so he was able to see me any time. His son was in college, though, so we decided on late afternoon the next day. That would give me a little time to prepare, not to mention informing the warden of my absence, plus I’d be able to interview both father and son in the same trip. Given that they were halfway across the state, just over two hours each way, that would save me a lot of time.

While I was at it, I also noted Rhodes’ address. In that case, I opted not to call first, hoping that a surprise visit would catch Rhodes’ partner and tenants off-guard. Not for the first time, I considered the possibility that it was more than just Nicholas and Lucas that Rhodes had been hypnotizing. If that were the case, any suggestions given were probably wearing off by now, and nudging his partner and tenants in the right direction might provide some valuable information.

My reception at the Moore home the next day wasn’t what I expected. Nicholas was the only one home at first, and he was quite cordial, offering me coffee or tea after inviting me to take a seat in his living room. I declined the refreshments, but he made himself a coffee, setting it down on an end table as he took a seat. Despite his seeming comfort with me, he was noticeably fidgety after he sat, and he kept looking towards the floor. He wasn’t focusing on any particular spot, though, and it wasn’t a particularly guilty look or anything of that nature, so my best guess was that he was just a neat-freak who was worried about how clean the carpets were. It was also possible he was just nervous around a psychologist. Some people could be like that.

After a little chat to help make sure Nick, as he preferred to be called, was as comfortable with me as possible, despite his fidgeting, I got down to business. “So, Nick, as you know, Dr. Rhodes is currently in remand, and it’s my job to present my impressions of him to the court. But in order to form a fuller picture, I can’t simply rely on my interviews with him, I also need to interview the people around him to get their impressions of him. Given the specific nature of the accusations, and your experience as an FBI agent, I thought it important to get your observations on the entire thing. So, if you’re comfortable, I’d like to hear your recollections of what happened on the night in question, and how you feel about it now.”

“Well, actually, it goes back a bit further than just that night”, Nick told me, though I wasn’t even remotely surprised to hear it. Rhodes had clearly been hypnotizing the two of them for probably months or more. “To be honest, I don’t like ta—” Just at that moment, we both heard keys in the door as Nick’s son, Lucas, got back from classes.

“Hey, Lucas! This is Dr. Emmerson that I was telling you about yesterday. He wants to talk to us about Peter. I was just getting started when you came in. If you want, I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t you grab some and you can join us”, Nick suggested.

That settled that. They were definitely not guilt-ridden, nor were they even uncomfortable around one another. I only hoped that didn’t mean that they’d started rationalizing everything.

“As I was saying”, Nick continued, “this isn’t something I like to talk about, but given that it’s already out, at least among those who are involved with the case, and given that the two of us are going to have to face it again in court when we testify anyway, I figured it was important to set the record straight as much as possible before then.”

“So, just a bit of background”, Nick started. I motioned for permission to record the conversation, to which Nick nodded and paused before continuing. “Lucas has been friends with one of Peter’s tenants since they were kids. My first encounter with Peter was maybe two months before the night of the recording you guys have, when I’d picked Lucas up at their place.” I wasn’t surprised that they knew we had the recording since the prosecution is legally obligated to share their evidence with the defense, but I was surprised at how casually Nick referred to it, as though it was some minor discrepancy that was easily explained away. “Peter had introduced himself as a trauma counsellor and given me his card while we’d been getting to know one another. At that time, it never even occurred to me that I might one day see him professionally, but I noticed some time later that he offered hypnosis as one of his services.

“It took maybe another month or so for me to work up the courage to talk to him about it, but the problem I’d been having was getting a bit overwhelming, and I really wanted it to stop. I just wasn’t sure if it was the sort of thing that came under a trauma counsellor’s job description”, Nick explained.

“What do you mean by ‘problem’?”, I asked.

“You know—”, Nick blushed furiously. I wondered why he would be so embarrassed about referring to having sex with his son, when he’d all but dismissed the recording out of hand. Something in his behavior didn’t add up.

“He means he’d been having lewd thoughts about me”, Lucas answered comfortably as he joined us, a gigantic mug of coffee in hand. “What he didn’t know at the time was that I’d been having some of the same thoughts about him.”

I had a hard time maintaining my professional demeanor after that statement, especially the way Lucas said it so calmly. Were they seriously trying to explain everything away as some kind of sexual fantasies that they themselves had been having about each other? Rhodes had gotten to them more than I could possibly have imagined, if that was the case. What was even odder was that they were still maintaining the fantasy that it was their fault. While the effectiveness and duration of post-hypnotic suggestions could vary wildly, I would’ve expected reality to have reasserted itself by now in a case like this.

“I can see that surprises you”, Nick said, recovering quickly from his embarrassment. “Look, I know how this must look from the outside, but the fact is that both of us had been having thoughts like this for some time. At least for me, it was well before I met Peter, so it just makes no sense to me to blame it all on him.

“And it’s not like we were, you know, doing anything about it…they were just passing thoughts that, honestly, even I thought were a bit weird. The way Peter explained it was that Lucas and I were both grieving over the loss of his mother, but we’d buried that grief very deeply over the years and, instead, latched onto each other. Over time, that manifested as a misplaced interest in one another. I think those were his words…close enough, at any rate”, Nick explained.

“Yeah, Peter really helped us get over that. I know what you’re thinking—I’d be thinking the same if I’d heard just that recording…I’m assuming you have heard it?”, Lucas confirmed, since I’d never actually said it straight out. I nodded dumbfoundedly. “But I remember the night after we came home from that. Nothing had actually happened, of course, but we remembered it as if it had. Peter had warned about that…what do they call it…fake memories or something like that?”

“False Memory Syndrome”, I inserted.

“Yeah, that! Well, once we’d both come down from how Peter had encouraged us to feel, we were both absolutely revolted! I mean, who wouldn’t be, right? That was really the night that turned things around for us. There was still work to be done, sure, but I’ve never had any thoughts like…that…about Dad ever again!”

“You can say that again!”, Nick echoed.

“I’m sure to you it must seem like we’re trivializing it or whatever, but to be honest, that’s all down to Peter. He’s the one who made us realize what was really going on, and he did an equally good job of helping us get over it and get back to a normal relationship with one another”, Lucas continued.

“And we’ve never gotten along better!”, Nick chimed in again. “I’d always thought we’d gotten along unusually well even before we’d met Peter, but since then, things between me and Lucas have been great! That time in our lives is now long past, and we’ve both put it behind us, like an old, bad dream”, Nick finished.

A part of me was tempted to play back the recording of the session—I’d copied it to both my phone and my home computer so that I could refer to it whenever I needed—but I could see by the light in their eyes that there was no point. The two of them were utterly convinced of what they were saying, and very happy with where things were at now that Rhodes was out of their lives. They’d have to hear the tape again in court soon enough, probably a few times, and the only thing me playing it for them now would do would be to confuse or anger them. I continued discussing things with them, probing gently to see if I could get anything useful out of them, but as I’d thought, there was little to be gained from either of them. I left shortly after Lucas finished his coffee, having downed almost twice as much of the stuff as his father in half the time.

I thought about everything the two of them had told me as I followed my GPS’s directions to the house where Rhodes had been living before being incarcerated. Something wasn’t quite adding up here, but I couldn’t make sense of it. If Rhodes had genuinely had sex with both of them, as I was quite certain he had, then their thinking it was only a fantasy sort of made sense, since he’d probably want to hide what he was doing from them. I would’ve expected them to question that fantasy without long-term hypnotic reinforcement, but I could accept that maybe they’d simply decided to believe what they wanted to believe. After all, who wanted to believe that they’d actually had sex with their own father or son?

But in that case, it made no sense at all that the two of them were so comfortable talking about it. Sure, Nick had been embarrassed the one time, which was confusing in its own right, but Lucas certainly hadn’t. He’d just come right out with it as if it were nothing. That only made sense if Nick and Lucas were still having sex with one another and were quite comfortable doing so. But that made no sense either because they wouldn’t be so open about it with a stranger—especially one whom they knew to be a psychologist working with the prosecution.

And besides all of that, regardless of their beliefs about what took place, I would’ve expected some kind of subconscious awareness that something was off, a hesitance around each other or other odd behavior, yet the two of them had behaved like a father and son who got along very well, with no interpersonal issues whatsoever. I had the feeling I was missing something here.

My second visit didn’t go any better than my first had. The first two guys I met there were two of Rhodes’ tenants named Timmy and Kevin. They were both very friendly despite it having become clear early on that I was trying to help build a case against their landlord. Kevin almost reminded me of my grandmother, completely ignoring my refusal of coffee or snacks and setting a tray in front of me “for everyone”. I eventually grabbed a cookie, more out of habit than anything, but otherwise, I abstained, despite Kevin’s best efforts.

Unfortunately, about all I got out of them was that Rhodes was a great guy, he’d never tried anything inappropriate, they’d never seen him do anything unusual with anyone else, and so on. Peter was clearly a wonderful and upstanding man, completely innocent of so much as jay-walking, if I went by their stories.

This time, I was reasonably sure I was being lied to, but again, things didn’t quite add up. Why would they try to defend Rhodes? I could almost believe that they were the little white lies of people who were protecting the innocent by overcompensating and making them sound like angels, but something in Timmy’s eyes told me that he knew Rhodes wasn’t an angel, while Kevin seemed more like he was in love with the guy. And despite their best efforts, the two of them occasionally smiled or glanced knowingly at each other before catching themselves.

Things got a little more interesting when the third tenant woke up from a nap and came downstairs. It was difficult not to notice that he had a certain attribute I knew a lot of gay men favored, but I was in full-on professional mode right now and easily suppressed any surprise I felt at how enormous that attribute appeared to be.

Cameron admitted openly to having been hypnotized by Rhodes, though only a couple of times for entirely professional purposes. His reaction when I asked why Rhodes had hypnotized him reminded me of Nick and Lucas. He was very open about his long-forgotten shyness when it came to his endowment, discussing the size of his penis with me like it was an everyday topic. He didn’t go into specifics, of course—it wasn’t like he was completely blind to social convention—he just didn’t really seem to be bothered by something that people would normally be very reticent to discuss. This went well beyond professional treatment of shyness or embarrassment.

The interview ended abruptly, however, when Rhodes’ partner, Jeff, arrived home. Upon being introduced, his face turned beet-red, and he unceremoniously ordered me out, threatening to call the cops. Given the rage and pain in his eyes, I was quite certain he wouldn’t appreciate the irony of calling the cops on someone who worked in a correctional institute.

I spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the next day pondering what was going on. About the only thing that made sense was if Rhodes were still influencing them all somehow, but he was in solitary right now and not allowed to communicate with anyone. Even before then, only his partner usually came to visit him, and there were two entries in the prison logs for both Jeff and Timmy coming together. That in itself added to the oddness. Why would a tenant visit his landlord in jail? It wasn’t like just anyone could come and visit. Each visitor had to be approved by both the inmate and the warden in advance, which meant that at some point, Rhodes had specifically listed Timmy as a potential visitor.

“You look tense”, Tomás observed when we got together for drinks the next day. “What’s up?”

I outlined my experiences of the day before without going into too much detail. As staff, we could share information about inmates on an as-needed basis, but this wasn’t really that kind of a situation, particularly since it involved more than just the inmate. Of course, with only one person accused of hypnosis-related offences, Tomás could figure out at least who the inmate was readily enough. He agreed with me that a lot of what I was recounting did sound strange, though I acknowledged that I might have inserted my own bias into my recounting. I asked him how his own meetings with Rhodes had gone, but he hadn’t really interacted with Rhodes all that much. Mostly, he just gave the guy pain meds and checked how his leg was coming along.

Later, as we were leaving the restaurant to head back home, we stopped outside our cars for a moment to say goodbye. To my surprise, instead of just shaking my hand or waving goodbye, Tomás reached out to give my shoulders a quick, friendly massage. I was one of the few in the prison who knew Tomás was gay, maybe even the only one, but I also knew that I wasn’t his type, so I wasn’t tremendously worried that this was anything other than a quick shoulder rub. “Damn, that feels good!”, I complimented him as I felt a little of the tension leave my body.

“You looked like you needed it. I can keep going if you want”, he offered with a reassuring smile, “though maybe the parking lot isn’t the best place for it.”

“Isn’t that how a lot of gay porn starts?”, I quipped.

“Not that I’ve ever seen. I dunno where you straight guys get this crap from!”, he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “But seriously, Mark, I just got myself a new massage table and I’ve been dying to try it out on someone.”

“Really? Since when are you interested in massage?”, I asked.

“I took a night course on it back when I was in med school. There’s a surprising amount of therapeutic value to it, actually. I’d never really done much more than the basics back then, but now, what with working in a prison and all, I figured it’d be a nice change of pace from the people we deal with during the day…something to relax me almost as much as the person I’m massaging, in a way”, he explained. “I’m actually kind of looking for test dummies to practice on to refresh my skills. You interested?”

“You know, normally, I’d probably say no, but today, I think you might actually convince me. Just…no happy endings, mmmkay?”, I grinned.

“Not even if you paid me!”, he retorted.

Twenty minutes later, I was parked outside of his place. It wasn’t the first time I’d been here—we’d both visited the other several times in the time we’d known each other—but this had a more personal feeling to it, despite his insistence that there was nothing more to it.

Sensing my hesitance, Tomás made friendly chatter as we went inside and he set up the table. I could tell this was still new to him; it took him several minutes to get it set up, and he often seemed to be trying to remember exactly how things went. He got there eventually, though.

“Okay, lie down on your stomach”, Tomás told me, motioning towards the table. Noticeably, he hadn’t suggested that I take my shirt off, and I didn’t offer. That would’ve been just a bit too homoerotic for me, which I really wanted to avoid right now, just so I wasn’t sending mixed messages.

I couldn’t believe how wonderful Tomás’ hands felt as he got started. He worked on my shoulders first, but soon moved out to my arms, then back to my shoulders and up to my neck, and finally down to my lower back, occasionally speaking softly and encouraging me to relax whatever set of muscles he was working on. Even if the table itself was new, it was clear from the start that Tomás wasn’t new to giving massages. If this was his idea of being rusty, I could only imagine how great of a masseur he’d be once he’d had a bit more practice.

Once he was done, I thanked him and complimented him on how talented he was. He’d really helped me to release a lot of tension. Hell, he’d gotten me to relax muscles I hadn’t known were tense…or even realized I had, for that matter. After we were done, I headed back to my place. I felt far better than I had before, though the Rhodes thing still tugged at the edges of my thoughts a little.

It quickly became a thing for me to go over to Tomás’ place for a massage after work, at least on those days where our schedules coincided. Working in a prison often left me tense at the end of the day, and Tomás was overjoyed to have a willing test subject. His skills were clearly improving the more he practiced, and I felt more relaxed each time. I actually made a point now of not driving home right after he was done, just because of how relaxed I felt afterwards.

Sometimes, I even fell asleep during our massage, but Tomás didn’t mind. He said it was a sign of just how good he was getting. After several sessions with him, it became obvious to me that this wasn’t any kind of ploy to get physical with me, and I started taking my shirt off and letting Tomás give me an oil massage. Tomás never took things any further than that, not that I’d ever really expected him to try.

Things at the prison seemed more bearable thanks to Tomás’ massages. They certainly weren’t a panacea, but they helped, and made me distinctly more relaxed, even the day after the massage.

Peter—the biggest stressor in my life in recent times—was out and about now, healed at least enough that he could come to my office rather than me visiting him in the SHU. He’d be in solitary for a few more weeks yet, just to make sure he was well on his way to healing before re-exposing him to the general population, but he got supervised yard time and he was allowed to move to relatively safe areas like the prison library and my office as long as he had an escort.

“Hey, Peter!”, I greeted him, not even bothering to get up as he limped into my office. At this point, my pretense of friendliness was only partly feigned. Whatever else you could say about the guy, I certainly respected him on a professional level. He was very knowledgeable, and it was actually enjoyable to discuss professional topics with him when we drifted on to topics other than my profile of him. I’d been allowing that to happen more and more, in the hopes that the camaraderie might loosen his tongue a bit.

“Hello, Dr. Emmerson!”, he smiled at me, seeming more at ease than usual. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too”, I agreed. “Oh, you can call me Mark, by the way”, I offered. It was a new tactic I was trying that Tomás had suggested, shifting our interactions from professional to interpersonal.

“Mark!”, Peter nodded, smiling politely, but with a twinkle in his eyes. Something in our little game had changed, based on how he was looking at me, though I wasn’t entirely sure what. He sat down slowly and rather awkwardly due to the cast still on his lower leg, resting his hands in his lap.

“How’s your leg, by the way?”, I inquired. “You seem to be moving around reasonably well.”

“It’s definitely getting better, and they’ve reduced my pain meds to non-opioids, so I’m now much more coherent”, Peter smiled. He was definitely lying to me or misleading me about something. I could see an almost triumphant look in his eyes now.

“Alright, so let’s get into today’s interview”, I said. “I’d like to start by—” Before I got any further, Peter interrupted.

“Actually, I was thinking that perhaps instead of our usual, you might like to have another of our professional explorations—maybe on predators and prey in the penal system?”, he suggested.

Curious to see where he was going with this, I agreed. As usual, Peter had some fantastic insights, and we even compared notes on some of the inmates that we identified as predators or prey, especially where our evaluations differed. Peter’s observations were invariably highly insightful, and I often found myself agreeing with his assessments, though certainly not always.

I wasn’t at all surprised that most of the correctional staff were people he’d tagged as predators, though it was interesting to hear who among them he thought were prey. Some weren’t terribly surprising—mostly it was the younger staff who were hiding their insecurities under a layer of bravado—but a few weren’t people I would’ve pegged as prey, Tomás among them. I knew Tomás was a bottom, but he’d never struck me as particularly insecure or submissive.

Both of us carefully steered clear of mentioning what we thought of the other. My personal assessment of Peter had changed somewhat as I’d gotten to know him, but he was still very much a predator in my eyes. I never came out and said it, of course, though even if I had, I doubted very much that he would’ve been surprised by my opinion of him.

Over the course of our next several sessions, Peter increasingly took the lead on what we talked about, and for the most part, I let him. I had to do evaluations and such at times, of course, but for the most part, we discussed whatever psychological topic he proposed. My impression of him as a knowledgeable psychologist was very much confirmed in our discussions, though I began to be less certain of his guilt. It was hard to believe that someone so impressive could use his knowledge in such a corrupt way. I even started to wonder if what I’d interpreted as a predatory nature was just the firm self-confidence of an accomplished trauma counsellor.

I often spoke with Tomás about Peter during our massage sessions, since he was one of the few among the staff who also interacted with Peter regularly. It was reassuring to hear that he’d observed many of the same things I had. Sometimes, he’d even have noticed something I hadn’t yet, but once I was aware of it, I’d notice it too, like how open and honest Peter always was with me.

Monday morning, as our weekly appointment approached, I found myself actually looking forward to seeing Peter, and I greeted him warmly when he showed up in my office a little over an hour before lunch. I’d actually packed my lunch today in case the discussion between Peter and I went long, as sometimes happened when we got going.

“Hey, Peter, great to see you!”, I smiled as he entered my office. “Oh, you got your cast off! I hadn’t heard. How is it?”

“Hey, Mark! It’s good to see you too. I’m really looking forward to our session today”, Peter told me with that confident, warm smile that I’d once thought looked so predatory. “The leg is doing okay. It’s still a little painful and weak, but nothing I can’t handle at this point. I’m looking forward to spending the next couple of hours off my feet, though!”, he told me with some relief as he sat down.

“Oh, just so you’re not surprised”, he continued, “I’ve asked Tomás to join us today, as soon as he can get away for a bit. I’m sure he’ll be here shortly—he’s quite eager”, Peter informed me confidently. I wasn’t sure, given the placement of his hands, but I thought Peter was actually getting a bit turned on. Maybe he had a thing for Tomás? Thinking back to how Peter had broken his leg in the first place, I had a brief thought that maybe he’d actually gotten into the fight so that he could see Tomás, but I dismissed the idea the moment it crossed my mind. Not only was I convinced that Peter had been telling me the truth all along, and that it had all been nothing more than a squabble gone wrong, but the very idea of allowing himself to be hurt just to see someone was ridiculous! Prisoners were known to do strange and sometimes desperate things, but breaking your leg just to get to see a hot guy was a bit much for me to believe, at least for someone like Peter.

Of course, having ruled that out, I started wondering just why Peter had invited Tomás to join us in the first place. It wasn’t like our medical staff was in the habit of following prisoners’ instructions, apart from actual medical needs, of course. Before I could even start to ask Peter what was going on, there was a light tap on my door. “Come in!”, I called, knowing exactly who it was, thanks to Peter.

As soon as Tomás shut the door, he walked behind me and turned off the camera. Surprised at his boldness, I looked up at him. “I make it a habit with all my patients unless I have reason to be concerned for my safety. The medical association recommends it for all prison doctors, and I’m pretty sure the psychological association does as well”, Tomás told me pointedly. “You should probably be doing this with almost every patient you trust enough to be alone in your office with, but especially with someone like Peter.”

“Fair enough”, I agreed. I knew he was right, the APA did recommend giving inmates total privacy unless there was a safety issue, but I’d never really felt comfortable turning the camera off before, even knowing how uncommon violence was here in Low. Tomás and I had really grown close these last couple of months, though, and I’d come to trust his judgement.

“Now, will one of you please tell me what’s going on here? Why did you ask for a member of our medical staff to join us for a SOMP treatment session today, Peter?”, I asked as Tomás positioned himself behind me and started massaging my shoulders. His fingers were just so relaxing, I could hardly even focus on listening to Peter’s reply. Instead, I just listened to Tomás as he started giving me one of our regular massages, despite Peter being with us. Within moments, I’d stopped even thinking about Peter at all. Everything was forgotten except for the feel of Tomás’ hands on my body and his voice in my ears, encouraging me to relax. There was nothing else in the world I needed to pay attention to right now.

After Tomás had been massaging and relaxing me for several minutes, Peter said something, though I was so focused on Tomás’ voice, I didn’t actually process what Peter had said. It was very jarring. I was just so used to our massages being done in privacy that Peter’s voice felt like an intrusion on what should have been something strictly between me and Tomás.

“It’s alright, Mark. Just let Peter speak”, Tomás encouraged me. “Every time we talk about him, your trust in him increases, and we’ve talked about him so many times before. By now, I’m sure you know you can trust him more than anyone else you’ve ever known. You know as well as I do that he’s completely professional and trustworthy, and there’s nothing to worry about. Just relax and listen to his calm, soothing voice, letting him reassure and guide you”, my friend continued calmly.

“That’s right, Mark, I have a soothing voice that’s very easy to listen to”, Peter reassured me as Tomás continued his massage. Now that I was expecting it, his voice no longer seemed like an intrusion. It wasn’t as silky-smooth as Tomás’ voice, yet it was still soothing in its own way. “I just want you to relax as you listen to my calm and soothing voice, enjoying the feel of Tomás’ fingers and letting them relax you even more deeply”, he told me, reiterating what Tomás had just said a moment before. “Just relax and go deeper.”

“It’s very important that you let me guide you from now on. Over the past couple of months, as you and Tomás have gotten together more frequently, I know you’ve come to think of me as someone you can trust, but I want you to think of me as more than that, Mark. I’m your mentor and guide, and you trust me more than anyone else in the world. Just focus on how reassuring my voice is and let that thought sink deep inside of you.”

Peter repeated himself a few times as I really focused on that thought. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that he was open and honest, and that I had nothing to worry about around him at all. He was like a father to me, and I knew that when he was around, I could just relax completely, especially letting go of that wariness I tended to have whenever a prisoner was with me. Peter was the best, most trustworthy and respectable person I’d ever known! That was simple fact and there was nothing that would ever make me feel differently.

We talked for a little while after that, but strangely enough, I didn’t really feel like it was anything I needed to remember. It all just kind of floated away, even the very fact that Peter had spoken to me. All that really mattered was how I felt about Peter, and the knowledge that I could just close my eyes, relax and listen to his voice anytime he wanted me to, each time feeling even more comfortable with him and eager to follow his suggestions than the last.

Tomás stopped his massage after a bit and I looked up at him gratefully and thanked him for his efforts. As always, he just smiled back and assured me that he needed the practice and that he was happy that I was enjoying it so much.

“Now then, Mark, I have a new topic for today that I think you’ll find quite interesting”, Peter informed me. As absorbed as I’d been in Tomás’ massage, I’d all but forgotten that Peter was even in the room until he spoke. I smiled warmly as I turned my attention towards him. “First, though, there’s something I wanted to ask you about”, Peter stated.

“Sure! What can I help you with?”, I asked, eager to make Peter happy.

“Well, Mark, I was wondering how you’d feel if I told you I had an erection right now”, Peter asked, moving his hands away from his groin so I could see the rather large protrusion he was sporting. In Low, prisoners normally wore properly sized khakis, so it was very visible.

“I…uhhh… Why would you even show me that? Aren’t you embarrassed by it?”, I asked him, confused.

“Well, it’s actually a lead-in to today’s topic. You feel comfortable letting me set the topic, don’t you, Mark?”, he asked me leadingly.

“Yes, of course. You know that!”, I agreed.

“Then it only stands to reason that you should be comfortable with me having an erection, as long as it’s relevant to the topic, wouldn’t you say?”

That didn’t make sense, and yet a part of me wanted to agree with him anyway because of how much respect I had for him. Not quite able to resolve the incongruity, I decided to sidestep the issue for a moment by asking Peter what today’s topic was.

“The influence of regular, staff-approved sexual release on inmate behavior”, he answered, phrasing it as though it were a paper we were writing together, as he often did for our little side discussions. An interesting topic to be sure, though one that very few institutes had much tolerance for. Anyone still laboring under the delusion that prisons were about reform tended to lose that quickly on seeing what prisons were actually like, at least here in the United States. Federal prisons were a bit more geared towards reform, but the attitude that they were about punishment was still highly prevalent, especially among correctional staff, and allowing prisoners to have sex regularly wasn’t any kind of punishment.

“Good luck getting anyone to listen to you around here!”, I chuckled.

“You’re listening to me right now!”, Peter told me, massaging his groin. “As is your friend, Tomás”, he grinned. I looked up, noting the vacant expression on Tomás’ face as he stared hungrily at Peter’s crotch. I was surprised that he was so interested. Normally, he preferred bulky, hirsute guys, and Peter was neither. “In fact, Mark, why don’t you sit back and relax so we can really discuss the topic in detail. Just close your eyes and listen to my voice.”

It almost sounded like Peter intended to hypnotize me, but I could never believe that he’d do that to me, so I just sat back as he’d suggested and listened to everything he was telling me. It was quite a fascinating discussion, and I listened intently to his every word, focusing all my attention on how relaxing his voice was and letting everything he said just bypass my conscious mind, going straight to my subconscious. He was really a wonderful guy, which I was surprised I hadn’t seen from the start. I felt rather guilty about ever having doubted him, actually, and wanted to make it up to him any way I could. Oddly enough, when I opened my eyes again, I couldn’t remember what we’d been talking about, but I wasn’t worried.

“So, how do you feel about the idea of me having sex with your friend Tomás right here in your office, Mark?”, Peter asked, massaging his now-exposed cock for Tomás’ benefit. As Peter and I had been talking, Tomás had apparently stripped naked, and he was now kneeling between Peter’s legs, making quiet whimpering sounds as Peter pushed his cock towards my friend’s face suggestively.

“Honestly, after how I’ve treated you these past months, I think it’s the least I can do. Go nuts!”, I encouraged him.

“That’s a good boy”, Peter purred, though whether that was intended for me or Tomás, I wasn’t sure, since his focus shifted down to my friend even as he was speaking.

“Now, I want you to be honest with me, Tomás. You’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you?” Tomás nodded. “You like the idea of being prey—of being forced to have sex with a prisoner—don’t you, boy? You’ve never told Mark, of course, since he would probably have to report it to the warden, but you’ve fantasized about it happening since before you ever got a job here, haven’t you?” Tomás nodded again.

“Just listen to my voice, Tomás, like you have so many times before, and let my suggestions go deep into your subconscious. They’re going so deep, you can’t resist them at all. You’re being forced to have sex with a prisoner, Tomás. You’re being forced in a way you never thought it would happen, though. You’re being forced to want to have sex with someone you know isn’t your type. You look at my body, and I’m nothing like the bears you really want, but you look at my cock and it’s all you can think about. You want it inside you, Tomás, and it’s so hot that you only want me because I’ve hypnotized you to want me. Being hypnotized is even hotter than being forced physically, and you want my cock inside your hypnotized holes so very badly. You want my cock inside any hole I want to put it in, and you’re going to be such an obedient boy about it. You’ll do everything I tell you to, Tomás, no questions asked.

“As always, though”, Peter continued, “even though you know I’ve hypnotized you repeatedly, when I count to three, you will awaken with no awareness that you were ever in any kind of trance. You will remember nothing more than losing track of the conversation for a moment, and then snapping out of it again before anything important was said.”

I lost myself in my own momentary train of thought as Peter slowly counted Tomás out. I’d had no idea that Tomás had ever been hypnotized by anyone, much less that he’d been hypnotized repeatedly by Peter. Now, I understood why Peter had pegged him as prey. If he truly had been fantasizing about being raped by a prisoner, he was much more submissive than I’d ever realized. Or maybe it was just an isolated fantasy. Either way, Peter was right that it was something I should report to the warden, since it made Tomás a liability, but that could wait. Right now, it was only with Peter, and he was the one person I felt comfortable letting Tomás be hypnotized to obey.

My focus shifted back to Peter and Tomás as I heard slurping sounds coming from their direction. The last thing I wanted to do was to watch two gay guys having sex, but it was a small office, and there was really nothing else to look at. It’d raise questions if I left my own office, leaving a prisoner inside, even more so if anyone had noticed Tomás entering. I briefly considered letting myself get absorbed in a book or psychology paper of some kind, but I respected Peter too much to be that rude to him. That pretty much just left me with watching the two of them go at it.

“Oooooh fuuucccckkk”, Peter whispered. “It’s been too fucking long! Christ, I’m gonna cum in a minute if you keep that up”, he stated, grabbing Tomás by the hair and pulling his head back. “Did you manage to get lube, like I told you to?”, Peter asked. Tomás nodded submissively. “Good. Get it, then bend over your friend’s desk, boy”, Peter ordered.

I didn’t need to ask why there was a question of whether Tomás had gotten lube, despite obviously having been ordered or maybe even hypnotized to. While it wasn’t an everyday thing, it was at least possible for staff to undergo inspection if there was any reason to suspect that we were trying to smuggle things to the prisoners. If someone saw us with something unexpected, it would certainly prompt some questions, and lube was a very unusual thing for a staff member to feel the need to bring into a prison. When Tomás pulled out the lube, though, I understood how he’d been able to bring it in unnoticed. It was a small sampler pack, meant for a single use.

As large as Peter was, the lube barely covered everything, and Tomás winced as Peter started forcing his way in without bothering to ask if Tomás was ready. I didn’t know much about gay sex, but I knew enough to know that you were supposed to warm the bottom up a little first. I’d never question someone as knowledgeable and experienced as Peter, of course, but forcing a dick the size of his into a butt that hadn’t been loosened was bound to be quite painful at first.

Leaning over Tomás, Peter grabbed him by the hair again and spoke softly into Tomás’ ear. “Now, you don’t want anyone to disturb us in the middle of your fantasy, do you, boy? So, you’re gonna be nice and quiet for me and take this without even a whimper like the good little slut you are, aren’t you, boy?”, Peter demanded.

Tomás nodded, even as his face contorted from the discomfort of Peter’s cock already starting to plunge deeper and pull out again. There was no way I could believe that he’d still be in any kind of hypnotic state given his facial reactions. Conditioning could go a long way, though, especially if this was something Tomás had been secretly fantasizing about in the first place. One way or the other, he obeyed Peter’s every command.

Within minutes, it was over. Peter—long denied any release—came in no time. To my surprise, he actually became tender after it was over, kissing Tomás gently on his neck and murmuring “good boy” and the like quietly into Tomás’ ear. For his part, Tomás shuddered slightly, though with his face being as blank as it once again was, it was hard to tell why. Was he revolted at having let Peter fuck him? Was he thrilled at having fulfilled a long-standing fantasy? Or was it nothing more than a simple physical reaction?

Whatever the case, with a little prompting from Peter, Tomás closed his eyes and listened as Peter told him what a wonderful time he’d had, and how great it had been to finally fulfil his fantasy. “We’ve had such a wonderful time, in fact, that you don’t want it to end. You want to continue having sex with me, even though I’ve already come inside of you. You love having my cock inside of you, Tomás—inside any hole I want to put it in at any time. You want my cock inside of you again, Tomás, and it’s so hot knowing that I’ve hypnotized you to want it. You’ll do absolutely anything I want as long as you can get my cock inside you once more.” Sure enough, as soon as Tomás opened his eyes again, he turned around and got on his knees at Peter’s order.

“Given the shower schedule around here, it wouldn’t do for me to leave without being perfectly clean once again, would it, Tomás?”, Peter asked, looking down at my friend then smiling up at me. His smile turned into a smirk as he saw my look of revulsion. “Issues, Mark? Why don’t you sit back and close your eyes and we’ll talk about it for a bit”, he suggested.

The longer Peter and I spoke, the more natural it all seemed. Of course Tomás was going to clean Peter off now that they were done. Any good bottom would. Besides, why should I care about what Tomás did? Opening my eyes briefly, I saw Tomás sucking Peter off, and he seemed to like it well enough. In fact, Peter explained, Tomás loved sucking Peter off. It was such a beautiful scene, watching Tomás fulfil his lifelong dream of being “forced” to do Peter’s bidding. Except, it wasn’t forced, of course, since Tomás wanted to do it deep down anyway. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be doing it.

I closed my eyes again as Peter continued talking, but what Peter had said when my eyes were open really stayed with me. Picturing Tomás continuing to service Peter’s unusually large cock, he really did seem to be enjoying himself. I wondered what that was like for him, knowing that he was doing things only because he’d been hypnotized to, but wanting to do them nevertheless.

Once Peter’s cock had been cleaned to his satisfaction, he put Tomás under once more. “Tomás, we’ve had a great time here today—a better time than you ever imagined you could with a prisoner, even in your wildest fantasies. But it’s made you realize that that’s all they should ever be, Tomás, is fantasies. While you’ll happily go under for me anytime I want and let me hypnotize you to do whatever I want, you’ll never fantasize about having sex with any other inmate from now on. Quite simply, they could never do for you what I have. Being hypnotized by a prisoner is hotter than being raped by a prisoner could ever be, and the only person you ever want hypnotizing you is me”, Peter informed Tomás.

He went on like that for some time, which I knew from my own training was important, both to reinforce the suggestions and to make sure that there were no misunderstandings. Once he was confident that Tomás had fully accepted his suggestions, Peter brought Tomás out of his trance.

“So, how are you feeling, Tomás?”, Peter asked, grinning evilly at him. Whatever he remembered about the rest of his visit to my office, which likely wasn’t much, Tomás could hardly miss the fact that Peter was sitting there naked with a hard-on, looking for all the world like a cat that had gotten into the cream.

“I…ummm…I guess…satisfied”, he moaned, a note of deep, incomprehensible fulfilment in his voice. “Horny”, he added after a moment. “I just want you to hypnotize me again and again all the time…Sir!”

Yes, he was Peter’s plaything alright. Still, whatever else I thought of it, I was happy for my friend. And given that he’d only ever give himself to Peter, I saw no reason to report anything to the warden. I trusted Peter to keep things within reason. In fact, it would even be fair to say that I respected him for not taking advantage of Tomás. He was just so professional about everything he did.

Peter dismissed Tomás without further ado, and I could see the obedience on Tomás’ face warring with his eagerness to do more. Ultimately, the obedience won, of course. The submissiveness looked good on my best friend. As he left, I shook my head in disbelief that he could ever have behaved any differently towards Peter. Tomás was just so obviously submissive towards Peter, now that I knew what I was seeing, and Peter was an exceptional guy who I knew would always treat Tomás well. I was really happy that they’d found each other.

Of course, now that they were done, Peter’s nudity was something else entirely. “Could you maybe cover up again now that Tomás is gone, please, Peter? I don’t want to offend you or anything, but I am a straight guy, and I really don’t need to see you naked now that you’ve finished with Tomás. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I completely see what you mean about the benefits of allowing prisoners to have sex—it was clearly very relieving for you and I don’t doubt that your behavior will be better as a result—but, you know how it is…you’re gay, you’re obviously still aroused from having gotten to hypnotize and fuck my best friend, and you have a very visible, naked erection. Even if it doesn’t fade for a while, I’d be a lot more comfortable if you could just pull your pants back up, at least. Do you mind?”, I begged.

The more I was getting to know Peter on a professional level, the more I started to feel like a child compared to him, and I knew I probably sounded a little whiny, but the simple fact was, there was a man with an erection sitting across from me, and now that he was finished having sex, I just couldn’t deal with it! It was only after I’d thought of it that way that I realized just how odd that thought was, and I looked at Peter in confusion, doing my best to look past his erection for the moment, wondering if he could maybe help me sort out the bizarre feelings I was having. It was good having another trained psychologist around sometimes.

Without me even having to say anything, Peter smiled at me warmly and spoke to me comfortingly. “It’s alright, Mark, I totally understand why you might have some confusing feelings right now. Why don’t you just sit back and relax, closing your eyes and letting my voice guide you through what you’re feeling right now”, Peter suggested.

Naturally, I did exactly as he asked, surprising myself with how little I cared about his nudity the moment my eyes were shut. It was almost as if, in closing my eyes, everything else stopped mattering other than Peter’s voice. And a wonderful voice it was, too. When Peter started talking to me about how I was feeling, I really found myself sinking deep into a state of relaxation, only too happy to listen to everything Peter was saying. Just listening to him talk was stupendously soothing.

“So, now that we’ve talked about it for a bit, how do you feel about me being naked, Marky?”, Dr. Rhodes asked as I opened my eyes.

“Much better!”, I assured him. “I’m sorry to have even asked you to cover up before. In fact, if you want to, you’re welcome to get naked in all our future sessions. I’m good with it.”

“That’s great, Marky. You don’t mind if I call you Marky, do you?”, he asked, stroking his impressive cock.

“No, of course not, Dr. Rhodes!”, I concurred, for the first time imbuing his title with the respect he deserved. “I feel like I owe you so much for having doubted you all this time, when you’re clearly so much better than I am in pretty much every way”, I acknowledged, feeling like a kid pretending to be an adult who’d just been caught by a real man.

“That’s a good boy, Marky. Now, listen, we’ve been talking for so long that it’s now well into lunch, and both of us will no doubt want to get something to eat before it’s too late. But before I go, I’d like to discuss who I get placed with once I’m out of the SHU. I know that’s mostly up to the Correctional Counselor, but as a member of the Unit Team, you do have the ability to influence their decision. I think I’d like to be placed with someone younger—maybe someone in their late teens or early twenties. You can do that for me, can’t you, Marky—even if it’s just a recommendation? You could tell them that you thought it would be safest if I were placed with someone specific, perhaps because I’ve shown no inclination towards younger guys or maybe that you believe someone to be much less susceptible to hypnosis, should I get out of line. What do you think, Marky?”, Peter asked.

I felt honored that Dr. Rhodes was actually asking my opinion on something! “I’m sure I can come up with something to convince them, Doctor. Did you have anyone specific in mind?”, I asked.

“There have been a few guys that I’ve seen that I think would be good cellmates. The one I’d really like to get in with is that martial arts guy, Alejandro”, Dr. Rhodes suggested. “You could probably sell it that his martial arts have given him a certain mental discipline, and that he’d probably break my other leg if I even tried to hypnotize him or do anything physical with him.”

I had to admit, he had a point. Despite his youthful attractiveness, Alejandro had successfully fended off any and all would-be suitors and had shown at least a mild contempt for the various gay inmates who wished it were otherwise. He would make a good choice of cellmate for Dr. Rhodes.

“Just in case someone raises a valid objection to him, though, let me give you the names of a few others whom I think would be good cellmates for me”, Dr. Rhodes suggested, coming over to stand next to me as I took down the names of guys he wanted to be cellmates with. I would have thought that having Dr. Rhodes stroking his cock right next to me would have bothered me more—especially after he put his arm around my shoulder, leaving his cock only a few inches away from my face—but I was just so focused on taking down the names he gave me and coming up with reasons they’d make good cellmates for him that I barely even noticed what he was doing.

“Just relax and listen to my voice, Marky”, Dr. Rhodes said when I was done. He hadn’t told me to close my eyes this time, so I didn’t, but I still focused every ounce of my attention on what he was saying. He had such an amazing voice! I was so absorbed in his voice that I couldn’t even bring myself to care as he caressed my cheek and even my lips with his cock, leaving a trail of precum everywhere.

I did notice when Dr. Rhodes told me to sniff it, though. I was surprised at how it smelled, given that it had been inside my best friend’s ass earlier. Even though Tomás had already licked it clean, I expected there to be at least some lingering odor, but instead, it smelled…powerful. If majestic had had a smell associated with it, Dr. Rhodes’ cock would be it. I felt even more in awe of him now that I knew how he smelled, and I breathed in his scent even more deeply as he continued encouraging me to enjoy it and relax.

When Dr. Rhodes was done speaking, he snapped his fingers and I quickly licked off my lips, then wiped off my cheek and licked that off my fingers as well. It was almost a shame to see Dr. Rhodes pulling up his pants and hiding that magnificent cock of his, but I knew I’d have the chance to see it again during our upcoming sessions to help plan my testimony at his trial.

We talked about mundane stuff for a little while until Dr. Rhodes’ cock went down. I felt kind of sorry for him, developing a spontaneous erection while he’d been in my office. Once he had it sufficiently under control, he informed me that he’d be going back to his cell now. Normally, I would’ve been the one to give him permission to leave, but I didn’t mind the reversal of roles here. From our conversation today, I’d realized just how much I had to learn from him, and I looked at him as kind of a mentor, despite his current status.

I barely had time to eat lunch after he left, and the rest of the day was jam-packed with seeing other inmates. Most only got about ten minutes with me, just for a quick checkup to see how they were doing. Some got a bit longer, if I felt they needed it, to resolve whatever issues they were having. Appointments the length of Dr. Rhodes’ were rare, but I suspected I’d be making time for a lot more of them in the future.

When I got home that night, I pulled up the recording of Dr. Rhodes’ session with Nick and his son on my computer and gave it another listen. Dr. Rhodes himself had suggested that I do so, but he’d instructed me to really listen to it with an open mind this time around. It was like I was listening to it for the first time! From the very first word out of Dr. Rhodes’ mouth, I understood that this was nothing more than a professional session and, despite how it might sound to someone not in the know, Dr. Rhodes was truly dedicated to helping the father and son get over their issues.

Listening to Dr. Rhodes’ voice as he got deeper into their session and started having Lucas imagine he was getting pounded by his father and Dr. Rhodes at the same time, I found that even I was getting slightly aroused by it all. Dr. Rhodes’ voice was just so enticing. The longer I listened, the more obvious it became that this entire scenario was purely a work of fiction and that Dr. Rhodes had done nothing inappropriate whatsoever. Also, the longer I listened to that seductive, purring voice of Dr. Rhodes, the more I concluded that I needed to be hypnotized by him myself, just to know what it felt like to be hypnotized by a master of the craft like him. My next session with Dr. Rhodes, that would be at the top of my agenda.