Say My Name
Sam waited nervously by the car. For the fifth time, he breathed into the palm of his hand and sniffed it. Then, still unsure what that was supposed to accomplish, he shoved both hands into his jacket pockets. A moment later he looked at his phone for the sixth time to check that he really had sent the text message saying that he was outside ready to pick her up. He shook out his legs to stop them shaking him.
He supposed first dates were always like this, although his experience of first dates was limited. Apparently, first dates were like this even when you’d been good friends with the girl in question for some time already. Maybe first dates were like this especially when you’d been good friends.
Suddenly, she was at the sorority building’s front door, looking radiant in a slinky black evening gown and with a chiffon shawl over her bare shoulders. Her eyes were bright in the light of the streetlamps. Her dark hair was bound up in a tight French twist, clasped with a silver broach.
“You look amazing,” he told her with a gasp.
“No need to sound so surprised,” she chided him. Her trademark mischievous smile played on her lips. He was flustered for only a moment.
“I’m not surprised. I’m just in awe. And I suddenly feel under-dressed.” He was wearing an open-necked shirt with a jacket and jeans. She gave him an appraising look.
“You look fine.”
“Just fine?”
“Just fine,” she agreed, nodding playfully. “But don’t worry. I knew I didn’t need to dress up. This was my prom dress, and I get so few opportunities to wear it.”
He looked down at the way the black material hugged her thighs and the willowy curves of her hips.
“You can’t have been doing much dancing at your prom, with a dress that tight.”
“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I didn’t do a lot of actual dancing at my prom. Then again, the dress didn’t stay on for much of the night, either.”
He stood agape for a moment.
“I have no idea if you’re being serious or just messing with me,” he eventually admitted.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, with another mischievous smirk. “It’ll be staying on longer tonight.”
“Ungh.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” in her least apologetic tone of voice, “is this conversation making you uncomfortable?”
“No!” he said, a little too quickly, eliciting another smile. “I’m fine! Here, let me get the door for you.”
“Such a gentleman! I might let you take me out again.”
Once they were both in the car—an impressive thing to own, as it was easy enough to walk anywhere in the university, and few first year students owned a car of their own—he turned to her and asked a question to which he knew the answer.
“So, have you ever been to a hypnotist show before?”
They’d met for the first time at a party held by one of the frat houses on campus. That is, one of the campus buildings that called itself a frat house. The actual Greek letter fraternities and sororities didn’t have premises on campus; they were all in town nearby. The campus buildings were owned by the university, and were ordinary residential blocks for students (mostly first years) who weren’t in fraternities and didn’t have anywhere else to stay. Since they were still mostly broken down along gender lines, they still tended to be known as fraternities and sororities, and they ended up being quite similar, engendering a certain loyalty among students to the building they lived in.
They were also similar in the sense that parties were common, and alcohol flowed freely regardless of how old the residents happened to be. So at this particular party, which had been going on for most of the day, many of the guests were quite drunk. Some had already retired to bedrooms in ones or twos for sleep or other things. Some were in the kitchen. Some remained in the building’s common room, or living area, watching old cartoons. (University is opportunity to spread your wings and become a true adult, but also to relive your childhood.)
Sam was there, though he lived in a different frat house down the road. So was Katty, though she lived in one of the girls’ buildings. That night, neither of them was dressed to impress. Sam had a T-shirt and (of course) his jeans. Katty wore a T-shirt and jeans too. She had her dark hair in a ponytail. They had spoken a little, and knew each other’s names, and got on well enough, but otherwise they hardly noticed each other before this.
One of the shows they found was Scooby Doo, and it was Sam’s favourite episode because halfway through it the evil clown hypnotised the gorgeous Daphne and made her his slave. As far as young Sam’s impressionable mind had been concerned, that was the sexiest thing ever. Of course, puberty and the internet had exploded Sam’s ideas of just how sexy hypnotism could be, but this episode still had a special place in his heart. He still got hard watching Daphne’s expression melt into a blissful, oblivious smile, ready to heed any command her master might give her.
Then Scooby woke Daphne up by drenching her with a bucket of water, breaking the spell, which was disappointing.
“Would you tell me what I’m doing in this silly costume and all wet?” Daphne asked, leading the other guys in the room to snigger childishly.
“I’d make her all wet!” said one, to further sniggering.
“You have to admit, it’s pretty sexy.” It was the first time Katty had spoken in hours.
“Yeah, Daphne’s a babe. That tutu is smoking.”
“Not the tutu,” said Katty, “the hypnosis. It was sexy.”
Sam just stared at her for a moment. The others started wondering how the clown had changed Daphne’s clothes, and Katty soon lost interest and went back to watching the show. (Spoiler: the clown was revealed to be a guy in a costume.) Sam’s attention was riveted on Katty.
He sat, determined to speak to her at least once this evening, but with no idea how to break the ice. It just didn’t seem appropriate to introduce himself by saying “Hi. You might have the same weird fetish as I do.” He had drunk a lot earlier and now he was very tired, but he refused to leave before she did. At some point there would be an opening, and he hoped he’d be alert enough to notice it.
Finally, long after he should have left, she excused herself for the night.
“Can I walk you home?” he blurted out, earning some amused glances. “I’m in Farrons House, so you’re on my way back anyway.”
She looked him up and down, like a dealer appraising an antique. Evidently he passed muster, because she agreed and he quickly grabbed his coat.
As they walked, they chatted about little things. Their studies, where they lived, their friends: the usual things that occupy conversations between people avoiding the matter at hand. When they were nearly back at her sorority, he finally built up the courage to say,
“Did you mean what you said earlier?”
“Hmm? What bit?”
“About finding it sexy when Daphne was hypnotised.”
Her eyes narrowed, suspicious. He understood that sort of suspicion. It was a sort of wariness that one’s personal tastes would be ridiculed. He had it himself, formed after more than one disappointing confession with close friends.
“Yes...” she said. “Why?”
“I... just... think it’s cool. That you said that. I haven’t met anyone else that feels that way before.”
“Anyone else?”
He realised he was blushing. “Anyone! I... no, okay. Yeah, I think it’s sexy too.”
It was the first time he saw her sly, mischievous smile. “Aww, and you’re looking for a girl to be your mindless love zombie?”
This idea having been at the front of his mind, he could only blush more, laugh nervously and stammer, “N-no! What? Ha ha! No.” He caught her eye, and realised that this weak denial wasn’t working. And she was still smiling. It seemed liberating. She was making fun of him, yes, but playfully. Not decrying his proclivities. Not laughing at him. “Okay, fine. Yes, I have fantasies along those lines. Who wouldn’t? But that’s a decidedly long-term goal. In the meantime, what I’d really like is someone to talk to about this who won’t laugh in my face or call me a pervert.”
“Even if—”
“Regardless of whether or not I am a pervert, yes.”
“Hmm. Well, this is my house. It was nice meeting you.”
Sam’s face fell. “Right,” he said, fighting back bitter disappointment. “Ok. You too. Right.”
“I’m in room 235, by the way. If you wanted to come round, say, Thursday, you can use the intercom and I’ll let you in. Bring a DVD with something good on it. Bye!”
It was the first but not the last time that she would leave him standing outside that door, too flabbergasted to realise how well things had gone.
He showed up on Thursday with a copy of Sleeping Beauty.
“Really?” she’d asked. “This is what you picked? You did know what I meant by ‘something good’, right?”
He fidgeted under her glare. “What? It’s a good movie. Tell me you never wanted to be a Disney princess when you were younger!”
“I was always more of a Princess Belle than an Aurora.”
“But that movie doesn’t have any hypnosis in it.”
“This movie doesn’t have any hypnosis in it! She falls asleep by pricking her finger on a thorn or something.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “You haven’t seen this movie in a while, have you?”
“What? Uh... no, I guess not. Why?”
“You’ll see.”
When Maleficent entranced the princess... dominated her so completely that her eyes glazed over and her shawl fell unnoticed from her shoulders... summoned her step-by-step to climb the stairs, awash in that eerie green glow... commanded her to touch the spindle with a dainty finger... all to Tchaikovsky’s haunting melody... then, Katty saw. In fact, she sat so far forward and stared so intently at the screen that Sam guessed she saw extremely well.
“Okay,” Katty admitted later. “That was a decent choice of movie. We should do this again.”
He came over the next Thursday too, and Saturday, then she visited him on Sunday. Pretty soon, they were spending so much time together that it was common knowledge that they were having sex... even though it wasn’t true. They watched movies and TV shows, mostly featuring mind control. They talked, mostly about mind control. They played games and drank and chatted, and the idea of sex didn’t even come up, except as part of their discussions on mind control.
“Sure, it’s a sexual fantasy. It’s really hot. But I’d never actually do it.”
“Neither would I,” Katty agreed, before biting into a slice of pizza. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of mind control roleplay in the bedroom, a bit of play acting, but not doing it in real life.”
“The idea of having total control over someone—or giving away total control to someone—is great,” said Sam. “It’s great as an idea. But in practice, it’s really fucking terrifying.”
“I agree.”
Sam rested his chin on his hand. “I mean,” he said, “the fantasy pretty much requires that the person with control is trustworthy to a ridiculous degree. But how can someone remain trustworthy if they have that kind of power? What’s to stop them deciding that, hey, they can get away with going a little further, so they might as well? It’s a slippery slope. And if someone has given away control, how do they know that they’re agreeing to something of their own will or if they’ve been changed to like it? Unless they are actually aware of and dislike the changes but can’t stop them, in which case that’s a whole other level of wrong.”
“I agree to a point,” said Katty, “but the fantasy really sort of involves someone taking control by force. Think of all those villains in the cartoons. It’s hot not because the princess is giving herself willingly to a trustworthy person, but because the villain has taken control and she’s helpless to resist him. As a fantasy, what’s really required is confidence that you won’t ever come to any sort of harm. A certain level of discomfort is okay. Otherwise, what’s the point of being controlled in the first place? But if someone ever does anything to damage you, physically or mentally or emotionally, then that’s not just wrong, it’s evil.”
“Huh. I never thought of that.”
When she finally finished the pizza, Katty leaned back thoughtfully. “Here’s the real question, though,” she said. “Are we opposed to the idea of mind control in practice because we’re morally against it, or because we’re too scared to give it a try?”
Sometimes, Sam and Katty’s discussions were less deep.
“Ok, seriously, what is up with this ‘Master’ crap?”
Sam looked up from a comic he was reading. “What ‘Master’ crap?”
“When the heroine is hypnotised by the villain, she’s always calling him ‘Master’. Why?”
Sam shrugged. “It signifies the depth of his control, I guess.”
“I guess, but it’s such an awkward, ugly word. It’s just distracting more than anything. You’ll never catch me calling someone ‘Master’, that’s for damn sure.”
“Maybe when you find the right one.”
“Pfft.”
And, after they had been hanging out for some time, they had a very serious discussion indeed. It was probably their shortest one yet.
“Um, Katty.”
“Um, Sam,” she echoed with mock severity, just like every time he called her by name.
“I have a couple of tickets to a hypnosis show. Would you... like to... come with me?”
“You mean like a date?”
“Yes. Very much like a date. Exactly like a date, actually.”
She smiled. Not mischievously, but kindly and softly. “I think I would like that very much.”
And that’s how it happened.
“So, have you ever been to a hypnotist show before?” he asked when they were both in the car, knowing that she hadn’t.
“No.”
“Ooh, a hypno virgin.”
“Shut up,” she said, swatting him playfully.
“You know what happens the first time you go to see a hypnotist show?”
“They make you go on stage and try to hypnotise you?”
“No! Better than that! They don’t even need to. You’ll go under just watching the show.”
“Will not!”
“You will too. Everyone does their first time. So did I. You won’t be able to help it. They’ll lower the lights and you’ll just watch the hypnotist work his magic. You’ll hear him saying how sleepy the subject is... sleepy and relaxed... and it’ll seem like he’s talking directly to you, and suddenly you’ll start feeling sleepy and relaxed for real. And if that happens, the important thing is to keep watching and keep your eyes open, because a single word can put you under like that.” He paused. “Then, of course, you’ll be all ‘I am in your power, Master. Your wish is my command.’ ”
“Oh, shut up! You almost had me going there.”
“Hey, don’t hit me, I’m driving! Well, okay, the last bit is an exaggeration. But just you wait. It’ll be so comfortable and easy to drift away, letting his voice relax you, dropping deeper and deeper. I’ll be impressed if you stay awake even as long as the first volunteer on stage, but bear in mind that he’ll do loads of inductions, and every time he starts it’ll be harder and harder to keep your eyes open. It’ll feel like a warm fog settling over you, and eventually you’ll just drop.”
“Stop it now. It’s not funny.”
“It is a little bit. You’ll like the show, though. The bits you’re awake for.”
“Jerk.”
“Okay, look, if you’re that worried about it, I’ll be right there. I’ll make sure nobody else takes advantage of you.”
“Nobody else?”
“Yes. I’ll obviously take full advantage of you at the first opportunity. You’ll be so helpless watching the show that I’ll have you calling me ‘Master’ in no time.”
“Ha! Just try it, buster.”
“You know you’ll enjoy it. You’ll go under once by accident, realise just how wonderful it feels and that it isn’t really a big deal, and that’ll encourage you to go up and volunteer properly.”
“As if.”
Sam kept up the patter and the teasing for the entire rest of the journey. By the time they had reached the dinner theatre where the show was to be performed, Katty had been so thoroughly primed to expect that she would drop into a hypnotic trance that what happened next was all but inevitable.
The show was in a dinner theatre. The vast dining hall had been converted from an old ballroom. The shiny hardwood floor and the glittering chandelier were both holdovers from that former use, but the raised stage was a new addition. The audience sat at private dining booths: tall, crescent-shaped, cushioned benches around circular tables. The audience members would sit next to each other in the hollow of the booth, affording them some privacy from other parties but also so they could see the stage where the hypnotist would perform. Every booth was turned so that the horns of the crescent faced the stage, and so couples at the back of the booth would have the best view of the show. Sam selected a booth near the stage but to one side, where Katty would be able to see the hypnotist’s face and focus as he was performing.
They sat, and ordered their food. They ate, and chatted about little things for a while. Then the show started, and they shifted next to each other to watch it.
Sam’s hands were sweaty. He wiped them surreptitiously on his napkin. Then he raised both of his arms into the air, miming a yawn, and brought one down around her shoulders. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t react at all. He realised he’d been avoiding looking at her almost since they sat down, lost in his own anxiety. Now he turned, and she was slumped forward in her chair, still awake, but her eyes clearly straining with the effort of staying open, her head nodding, eyelids drooping lower and lower.
It had worked. It had really worked. She was going under on pure suggestion, and every attempt to fight it was putting her under faster and deeper. Of course, this really wasn’t enough to put her in a trance. Sam had known it wouldn’t be, but hopefully all she needed was one last push.
Timing was everything, so with one eye on the hypnotist, Sam turned to Katty and started making soothing noises.
“Shh, it’s all right. I’m here. There’s nothing to worry about. Shh. I’m here.” As the hypnotist wound up the induction, ready to end it with a sleep command and put his subject under, Sam wound up his own induction. “Shh, relax. Let yourself drift away. Just relax and... sleep!” The last word was spoken at the same time as the hypnotist said the same, and in the very same instant Sam pulled her towards him and pulled her head onto his shoulder.
He froze for a moment. Had it worked? Could he be sure?
“Katty?”
No response. Maybe she had actually fallen asleep.
“Katty, can you hear me?”
She snuggled into him. Her voice was a gentle sigh. “Yes.”
“Do you know what just happened?”
“Mmm... Hypnotised me.”
“That’s right. That means you’re under my control, doesn’t it?”
“Under your control.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“Anxious.”
“What else?”
“Excited.”
“Good. You know that anything I tell you to do now, you must obey. Say it.”
“I must obey.”
Oh God, she’d said it. It wasn’t pretend any more. Here was a girl in his power. He could make her do anything. But this could be his only chance. He couldn’t squander it. And he didn’t want to abuse Katty’s trust... too much. He liked her. More than liked her.
No. He had to stick with the plan.
“Good. I am about to give you some instructions. You will accept them into your subconscious mind, but when you wake up you will not remember them. Say it.”
“Accept instructions. Do not remember them.”
“Whenever you say my name, your subconscious mind will translate it as ‘Master’. Whenever you consciously try to resist calling me ‘Master’, you will say my name, subconsciously calling me ‘Master’ without consciously realising it. The more you say my name, the more your subconscious will connect my name and the word ‘Master’, and the stronger the connection will become. The more you say my name, the more right and natural and comfortable it will feel to be calling me ‘Master’, even though the word you are saying is my name. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Tell me what will happen.”
“Whenever I say your name, I will think ‘Master’.”
“Good.” He repeated the instructions a few times, for as long as it seemed safe to do so, then started to bring her out.
Katty woke up with her head on Sam’s shoulder, and his arm round her body. She vaguely remembered him putting his arm around her, and her nodding off. She sat upright.
“What happened?”
“Just what I said would happen. You were hypnotised.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you have something to do with this?”
“I may have encouraged it.” Now it was his turn to smile mischievously.
“Did I do anything?”
“No.”
“Oh.” It was hard to tell whether she was relieved or disappointed, or both. “Did you do anything?”
“Do you suddenly have the urge to call me ‘Master’?”
“No.” She stuck out her tongue at him. “I have the urge to call you ‘Sam’.” For a second as she said it, she appeared bewildered, confused, her forehead creasing as if trying to solve a tricky problem. Then it passed.
“Then I guess my diabolical brainwashing plan didn’t work.”
“Well, I told you it wouldn’t work. Did you try anything else?”
“Other than try to make you call me ‘Master’? Honestly, no.”
“Did you chicken out?”
“No. I did everything I’d planned to do. It’s only our first date, after all. I assumed a nice girl like you would want to wait until at least the third date before letting someone into your mind.”
“Already planning that far ahead? How do you know I’ll want to go out with you again?” Then, to his surprise, she laid her head back on his shoulder and placed her hand on his chest.
“I guess I’ll just have to hope for the best,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze before settling down to watch the rest of the show.
Later in the evening, she volunteered to be hypnotised on stage. Of course she did. That was the whole point of the evening, after all. And, of course, she was by far the best and most suggestible subject of the whole performance. From Sam’s point of view, it was also a comfort to know that she had been brought out of trance properly by a trained professional. Sam himself was a mere amateur, and more nervous than he let on about having put her under.
But he had. And it had worked, at least at the time. Would the suggestion hold? He couldn’t wait to find out.
They were standing outside the sorority door again.
“So...”
“Yeah.”
“Did you have fun?”
“I did. Thanks for taking me.”
“My pleasure. Still no unexplained desire to call me ‘Master’?”
“Heh. No, Sam.”
“Sure?”
“No, Sam!”
“Oh well.” He moved jerkily forward, then stopped. “We should do this again...” he said instead.
“We will. I’ll think of something.”
“Right. Okay. Well... I guess I’ll...”
“You big wuss, come here.”
She kissed him, arms around his back. He was so frozen to the spot that his arms stayed glued to his sides, but at least his tongue knew how to reciprocate. Then she wished him goodnight, and he was alone again in front of her building.
They didn’t meet up or hang out between their first and second dates. It seemed strange to hang out like that if they were dating. Something about the relationship had changed.
On their second date, Katty booked for them to go to a midnight showing of Taste the Blood of Dracula (one of Christopher Lee’s best Dracula outings, Katty insisted) at the university’s student cinema. Sam booked for them to go to a restaurant beforehand. Nothing fancy this time, just a casual Italian eatery. He had no hope she’d wear her black dress again for this.
“You go in and tell them we’re waiting while I park the car.”
“Sure.”
“Do you remember the name we’re booked under?”
“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that hard to remember.”
“Please, just set my mind at ease.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
She sighed heavily. “It’s under ‘Sam’. Satisfied?”
“Sorry, say it again.”
“ ‘Sam’.”
“Just checking.” He grinned. “Off you go.”
“Honestly!”
Food was pleasant enough. Later, they enjoyed the movie too. Dracula mesmerised two pretty girls. The blonde one, Alice, was enthralled so completely that she cheerfully killed her own father with a shovel, stabbed another old man through the chest, and willingly restrained her best friend so that Dracula could take her too. Katty and Sam held hands throughout, but when Alice insisted “I must do what he says. He’s my Master!", Katty squeezed a little tighter and whispered “Sam...”
“Hmm? Did you say something?”
“No. Shh, I’m watching it.”
All the way home they talked about it, dissecting what they enjoyed and didn’t. It was a shame, they agreed, that Dracula had rejected Alice at the end, but at least she’d survived.
They started hanging out again afterwards. They could still be friends and date at the same time. The relationship was different, but they still liked spending time together and talking about movies and mind control. It would be silly to stop doing it considering it’s what they liked most about each other.
Sam sat engrossed in an old Chris Claremont-era X-Men comic, issue 265. He knew Katty was watching him, but he was determined not to acknowledge her presence until she said his name. He’d been reading and re-reading the same page for ten minutes, trying to avoid looking at her.
“Hey,” she said after a while. “Hey, you.” Since their first date at the theatre, she’d become more reluctant to say his name out loud, but could never articulate why. It just felt a little strange, she said. He didn’t respond, so she spoke louder. “Can you hear me? Hello? I’m talking to you. Hey, dickhead!”
He kept his eyes fixed to the page, where Valerie Cooper was sitting down for tea with the Shadow King. Three panels showcased the depth of the Shadow King’s control. He didn’t even appear until panel four. He didn’t need to. Everything the artist needed to convey was captured on Val’s face, in her eyes, and in her smile.
Katty sighed. “Sam!”
“Oh! Hi Katty, didn’t see you there.”
“Sure you didn’t.”
“What’s up?”
“I was wondering... Silly thing, really, but I never asked before... What’s your perfect hypnotic thrall?”
He hadn’t expected that. “That depends.”
“What a cop out answer!”
“No, really. I mean, sure, I occasionally fantasise about just switching off a girl’s mind. You know, the whole nine yards, blank or swirly eyes, arms held out in front, wrists limp, monotonous voice. Total domination. But, frankly, that’s only good for a brief encounter. I wouldn’t want a long-term slave to be like that, not all the time. First of all, it would get boring. I need a little repartee, a little imagination. What’s the point of having someone devoted to serving your every need if they can’t do nice things for you on their own initiative? Second, it would be so much work. You’d have to tell them to do everything – when to eat, when to sleep, when to go to the toilet. Just because someone acts like a robot doesn’t make them one. I couldn’t stand micromanaging someone’s life like that. I have enough problems with my own.”
Katty looked thoughtful.
“How about you?” he said to her when it became apparent she was not going to break the silence. “What’s your perfect master like?”
“Hmph. Setting aside the fact that you know I hate that word, Sam, I guess I’d want someone with the guts to properly own me, make me theirs. Yeah. At the same time, I wouldn’t want to be one of those subjects who just can’t think at all. They’d have to let me resist if I wanted to... but I’d never win... unless they wanted me to do something that I morally disagreed with... which this hypothetical ideal owner would never do, Sam, obviously. I’d want to be aware that I was being controlled, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to get off on it.”
“Anything else?”
“Being hung like a stallion wouldn’t hurt.”
“That puts me out of the running, then.”
“Oh, Sam!” Sam smiled. She’d found saying his name out loud strange at first, so when she said it voluntarily, he thought he knew what it meant. And she was saying it voluntarily much more often now.
“Do you want to come to my parents’ house for the weekend? They’re away for a fortnight and it’s a nice, big country house. We’d have it all to ourselves.”
“I don’t know.”
“The answer I’m looking for is ‘Yes Master’.”
She stuck her tongue out. “Yes, Sam.”
“What, really?”
“Uh... yeah, okay. Sure. I’d love to. Thanks, Sam.”
When he came to pick her up, he arrived half an hour earlier than expected, and one of her neighbours let him in.
“Come on, slowcoach,” he said, walking into her room unannounced. “We’ve got a drive ahead of us.”
“Sam! What are you...? I thought you weren’t coming until 10!”
“I’m here now. You’re ready, aren’t you?”
“Nearly. Just a few bits and pieces.”
“Don’t worry about them. Get your coat and we’ll go.”
“But, Sam, I—”
“I said ‘get your coat’. Come on.”
She looked for a moment like a scolded puppy. He could tell part of her wanted to give a snappy comeback, but she quickly decided against it. “I... okay, Sam, I’ll grab my things.”
Perfect, thought Sam. She was reacting just as he’d hoped. After conditioning herself to think of him as ‘Master’, she was starting to treat him like one. A little more intensive conditioning should finish the job. By the end of the weekend—by the end of the day, if all went to plan—well, then both of their dreams would be realised.
They were in the living room of the big house. Katty had been overawed when she saw it. A three-storey house, surrounded by hedges. They’d actually gone up a driveway from the road and parked in a garage! Now they were in the living room, and somehow Katty had agreed to pretend to be hypnotised.
“Just pretend. Please? Okay! When I snap my fingers, you will become my mindless, helpless puppet, open to all of my commands. You will become completely blank and entranced. Now!”
Katty did her best to affect a blank, hypnotised expression, but her lips kept trying to twist into a grin and she had to suppress a fit of giggles.
“Katty, say ‘Sam, I am in your power.’”
“Sam, I am in your power.”
“Katty, say ‘Sam is my master.’”
There was a pause as she mulled it over. It lasted longer than Sam expected, but the result was the same. “Nope. Nice try though.”
“You’re not very convincing as a hypnotised slave, you know. I have an idea. Follow me.” He took her by the hand and led her to his mother’s boudoir, a small antechamber attached to his parent’s bedroom where his mother could sit in front of a large mirror to do her makeup and jewellery. Sam motioned to Katty to sit, which she did.
“Do your blank expression again.” She did. He pointed to the mirror. “See? Not very convincing. I can still see you thinking. Have a little practice. Look into your own eyes in the mirror, focus on them, and make them as blank as you can. Blank... blanker... relax every muscle on your face... blanker still... just stare straight ahead... even more... no expression... no thoughts in your head... totally blank... totally vacant... totally mindless. There, much better.
“Stand.”
She stood.
“Turn.”
She turned to face him. Her eyes were glassy, looking straight through him. Her whole face was slack, from her lidded eyes to her half-open mouth.
“Arms up.”
She raised both arms in front of her, hands hanging limply at the wrist, just in the way he’d once described to her.
“While you are in this state, whenever I give you instructions, you will accept them and obey them immediately. You will confirm your understanding by saying ‘Yes Sam’.”
“Yes Sam.” Her voice was flat and perfect, just the way he’d dreamed of.
“Follow me. Keep walking straight towards me. You can’t see anything but me, or hear anything but me. Just keep following. Still blank, still no thoughts but what I tell you.”
“Yes Sam.”
He led her out of his parents’ bedroom, walking backwards so that he could enjoy the sight of her vacant eyes and zombie-like movements.
“The more you follow, the more you want to follow. The more you want to follow, the more you want to obey. The more you want to obey, the more you realise that it is impossible to do anything else.”
“Yes Sam.”
He led her through the house, continuing to lay on suggestions as she walked. He took her outside, a private garden surrounded by hedges.
“You are not concerned that we are outside. Although the garden is surrounded by hedges, somebody may see that you are in my power. The thought of someone seeing you like this excites you. It makes you feel good. Feeling good will make you even blanker and more suggestible.”
“Yes Sam.”
He led back inside, to his father’s study, where he told her to stop, which she did. He took his father’s old Polaroid and snapped three pictures of her blank expression.
“I am taking your photo while you are completely under my power. I have proof that you are my slave. This makes you excited too.”
“Yes Sam.”
Finally, he led her all the way to his bedroom, and told her to stop in the middle of the room.
“You are in my bedroom. You are not concerned that we are alone together. You are not concerned that I have complete control over your every thought and action. You revel in the anticipation of what I could do to you. I could do anything, and you would be helpless to resist.”
“Yes Sam.”
“Arms down.”
“Yes Sam.”
“I am going to kiss you. As I do, you are going to wake up, like Sleeping Beauty, no longer hypnotised. You will remember everything that has happened to you. You will feel more refreshed and wonderful than you have in your life.”
“Yes Sam.”
He stepped forward and planted a kiss on her soft lips, watching her eyes as they slowly filled with life and deep, smouldering lust. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed their bodies together, forcing her tongue into his mouth, pouring an unending well of passion into the kiss. He responded in kind, his hands roaming over her body, her back and tight butt. Then they toppled onto the bed and she started tearing off her top even while they were still locked at the mouth. Finally, the practicalities of getting naked forced them to separate. They were both panting heavily.
“That was incredible,” she whispered. “I just did everything you said. I don’t even know if I was just playing along or actually hypnotised.”
“Does it matter? They aren’t as different as you might think.”
“It was the hottest thing that I’ve ever done in my life, and we didn’t even do anything sexual.”
“What do you call this?”
“I call this making up for lost time.” And she snapped off her bra, exposing her small, perfect breasts. Both of them now fully topless, she threw herself on top of him and kissed him again. This kiss didn’t last as long, because then she was kissing him on the cheek and all down his neck onto his toned chest, fiddling with the buckle of his jeans. He stroked his hand through her hair, but just when she managed to unclasp the buckle he sat up, picked her up by the waist and flipped over, laying her on the bed underneath him.
“Take off your panties,” he told her, kicking his own jeans and underwear off and into the corner.
“Mmm, yes Sam,” she cooed with a seductive grin, and complied.
He was so hard already. It was all he could do to restrain himself. He had a plan. He was so close. But that was enough foreplay.
God, her pussy was gorgeous. Pink, swollen lips glistening, a dark patch of trimmed hair above. He lowered the head of his cock to her slit, rubbing it gently up and down, never pushing inside. She reached down and spread her pussy lips further, but he stayed where he was, using every ounce of his strength to resist rushing it. He was so close now.
She mewled at the teasing. She tried to grab his cock and pull him in, but he wouldn’t let her. She pouted. He smiled.
“Ah ah,” he chided. “Say my name.”
She whispered it, “Sam...", and he pushed his head inside her. She gasped. He withdrew.
“Say it again,” he told her, with more patience than he knew he had.
Softly. “Sam.” He entered again, a bit further. “Oh.”
“Say my name.”
“Sam.” More confident now. He entered again, her tight pussy walls squeezing him. A soft throaty grunt as he entered, then a softer whine as he pulled out.
“Say my name.”
“Sam. Oh!”
“Say it.”
“Sam! OH!”
“Keep saying it.”
“Sam! Sam! Sam! Yes! Sam! Sam!”
It became a mantra. She whispered it huskily over and over and over, rhythmically at first so that he could align his thrusting to her words, but then so fast that he couldn’t keep up with her. It didn’t seem to matter.
She said it louder, punctuating the repetition with encouragement and crude exclamations. “Sam! Sam! Yes, do it! Sam! Fuck me! Sam! Sam, Sam, Sam!”
She spoke faster, tripping over her own tongue as he ploughed her pussy relentlessly. “Sam! Aaaah! Yes, fuck, Sam, yes! Sam! Saaaa-aiiiii!” She peaked, screaming his name at the top of her lungs, legs and arms flailing as she suddenly lost control.
And then the pleasure ebbed, slowly, and she collapsed on the bed, gently shaking.
“My God... my God...”
Sam grinned, lowering himself onto an elbow. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said.
Her head rolled to the side and she looked at him, her cheeks still flushed. “You’re amazing. How may I serve you, Sam?”
“Right now?”
“Right now. Well, as soon as my knees stop shaking. That was the most incredible sex of my life. How can I repay you?”
“Katty, what’s my name?”
“Mmmm... Sam.” She said it like the word itself was pleasurable now.
“No, that’s my name in public. What’s my private name? What’s my name just between us?”
“I don’t understand...”
“Just think.”
Her brow creased. She nibbled her lower lip, wracking her brain for the answer that she knew was there. Finally she found it.
“Oh! Master! You made me like it! Oh, wow, that feels so amazing to say.”
“It feels even more amazing to hear it.”
“But you didn’t answer my question. How may I serve you... Master?”
“As soon as you’re ready, you can repay me by going again. I still haven’t cum.”
She laughed. “You don’t have to wait for me! It’s men that have to worry about that!”
So they went again, and again Sam goaded her to say his name. She whispered it, screamed it, begged and shouted and moaned it. And sometimes it was ‘Sam’ and sometimes it was ‘Master’, but it didn’t matter because both names meant the same thing.
“So what happens now?” she asked him afterwards. She was lying on top of him, head on his chest. He rubbed her bare shoulder tenderly, brushing aside a strand of hair slick with their combined sweat and juices.
“For the rest of today, I was planning on fucking you. A lot. I thought we’d start out slowly and gently, then get harder and faster at a pace we both feel comfortable with.”
“Mmm. Sounds good so far.”
“Tomorrow, I thought I’d try hypnotising you properly, put you in a nice suggestible trance, then fuck your mind. A lot. We’ll start slowly and gently at first, then get harder and faster at a pace we both feel comfortable with.”
She sighed contentedly. “I can’t wait.”
“But for right now, why don’t you give me a blowjob?”
“Ooh, yes Master! I thought you’d never ask.”
“Say my name again before you start.”
“Master.”
“Again.”
“Master!”
“One more time.”
“Maffdg—”