The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chris

Kyle was always the troublemaker on the team. He was so self-assured, it went beyond confidence. He got to the point that he wouldn’t take debriefs of our fieldwork and never thought he could improve—or that he made mistakes. He was a problem, and I knew I was going to have to deal with him. I really thought the visualization would help him. It was typical that he fought it.

Doc said not to worry about Kyle. Doc knew from my account of him that, though Kyle had a big ego, he also knew that the team had to come first. He would try and solve things with me first. I guess Doc was right. When he put it in those terms, I really lost any concern I had about Kyle.

It was Friday afternoon when Kyle stormed out. After he left, Doc talked to me for a while and then made a few calls from my apartment. When I woke up later that night—I didn’t remember going to sleep, but that didn’t matter—I was bored out of my fucking mind. I tried playing a computer game, a secret vice of mine, but I just found myself getting more and more frustrated with my piece-of-crap system.

Then the idea of getting a whole new set-up hit me. Since I was wide awake, I could spend the rest of the night shopping at the local computer stores, if I needed to.

Turns out I didn’t have to. I got to the computer store around 10:30 and I knew just what I wanted. By midnight I had the new system back at my apartment and all put together. I had a new Pentium II computer: super-fast and loaded with bells and whistles, the kind with 1,000 MHz, flat screen, four digital web cameras—for some reason, one didn’t seem like enough, so I got four—and all the software and books I needed to help me run it. It was the system of a lifetime. Once I got it running and had my online access set up, I realized how late it was and how tired I was, and I started to get that tingling feeling I got when I was really tired. I drifted off to sleep with that voice in my head telling me I was a “good boy.”

Cole

When I got to the LT’s place early Saturday morning, Josh was already there. Chris—that’s what the LT wanted us to call him when it was just us and no one else was around—led me to his bedroom where he had the sweetest computer set-up I’d ever seen. It was just amazing! He must have bought every top-of-the-line system component he could get. I didn’t pretend to understand why he had web cameras all over his apartment: two in his bedroom, one in his living room, and even one in his kitchen. I guess he was gonna video his life. Oh, yeah, that would be exciting—not!

We were goofing around on the computer when the Doc walked into the bedroom. I guess he had keys ‘cause we didn’t hear him knock. He said hello and then our special words, and I felt myself falling into that quiet restful place. I loved the feeling as it swept over me, like a bathtub filling up with warm water around you, relaxing your body as the water moves up to your neck—only this feeling moved up over my head. It left me feeling relaxed, and my head just a little bit cloudy.

“That’s it. Relax, boys. Let that feeling flow over you,” I heard Doc saying. He turned to Chris and started asking him if the web site was ready. I heard Chris say, “yessir,” with that far-off voice we all had when this sleepy mood came over us. It felt so good.

I remember Doc sitting by the computer as Chris told him how to find the web site. It was called SEALTOYS.COM. The name seemed to worry me at first—but the more I tried to concentrate on why, the feeling and thoughts just drifted away. When I refocused on Doc, he was telling Chris what a good boy he was and how he was very happy with the web page. What web page, I thought.

Doc was talking about how we needed some video clips for the clients to see. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but the LT seemed to understand. He walked over to his bed and took off his khaki shorts and “Eightball” tee-shirt. He stretched out on his bed and started jerking off like he didn’t care if we were there or not. Funny, but it didn’t seem to bother me either. We all just sat there watching the LT pleasure himself.

Josh had that puppy-dog look he always gets when the LT is around. Me? I was too busy looking at the LT’s big cock and hard pecs pumping up and down. He had such a hot body. I wanted a body like that too. Doc said I could have one like that with the help of his visualization. He was right, of course. I could see the difference in the gym already. I felt bigger, stronger, more cut. It was awesome.

As I stared at the body that I wanted to have for myself, I heard Josh start mumbling words: “Team ... (relax) ... motivation ... (relax) ... LT ... (relax) ...” As he said them, I started to see them flash in my sight. Even as I watched the LT play with his eight inches of meat, I could see the words flash in front of me as Josh said them. The more I saw them, the more focused and turned-on I got.

I could hear Doc tell me it was okay if I wanted to help out my LT. It would help make us a better team. Team ... LT ... ? Yeah, it’s what’s best for the team, I thought. I found myself walking toward the LT. He looked over at me and smiled while he worked on his cock. It was as if he knew what I wanted. Yeah, I guess he did know—we both wanted what was best for the team.

LT just took his hands off his cock and balls. He laid back and put his hands behind his head. Just laying back, letting me take care of everything. I knew just what I needed to do, for the team, for the LT.

His cock felt so good in my hands. Natural. Like my hands had been molded just for him. I had always enjoyed jerking myself off, but doing it for the LT seemed so much better. It sent shivers through my body just to touch his cock and stroke it for him.

I could hear Doc behind me, saying, “Good boy, Cole. Help out your LT—it’s for the good of the team. The team has to come first, Cole.”

I had been playing with the LT’s tool for a little while when I felt my clothes coming off. My shirt, my running pants, and then my boxer-briefs all came off in a flash. It wasn’t until I felt someone sucking on my hard cock that I realized it must have been Josh. Josh loved to suck cock. He was really good at it too. I had no idea Josh was into cock. It didn’t matter though. I knew he was doing it to take care of a teammate. It was okay if he as doing it for the team.

With Josh on my cock and the LT moaning, I felt myself being drawn to the eight inches of hot cock in front of me. Yeah, what Josh was doing—it was the right idea, and I needed to do the same for the LT. When it passed my lips, I felt sorta strange, like some part of me didn’t agree with what was going on. I pushed those thoughts away, though. Those thoughts were pretty selfish—I had to help the team. The team came first, always, and the LT was our leader—he was the team. He needed me to help him out.

I lost all track of time. It felt so good having my cock in Josh’s mouth and the LT’s in mine. It all felt so natural to me. Funny, but before I met the Doc, I’d have sworn there was something wrong with sucking a guy’s cock. I had been so blind.

I felt sorta bad when Josh stopped sucking me, like when you’re having a great dream and the alarm clock jolts you out of it. I wanted my cock back in Josh’s mouth. Doc was explaining how it would be better if Josh was sucking the LT’s cock, though, and I guess he was right. ‘Cause when Josh got between me and the LT, I was left with Josh’s hot ass in front of me.

Funny—I’d never noticed what a hot butt Josh had. Just like the rest of his body, it was lean but all muscle. Two globes of smooth, hard muscle with a prize in between. I couldn’t help myself. I mean, I am a guy right? Guys like to fuck, and there Josh is offering up his ass to me while he sucks our LT’s cock.

My hands were on auto-pilot. Where the lube and condoms came from, I’m not sure. I didn’t really care at the time. I just used them. Josh reacted just like Doc said he would. He loved the feeling of my fingers lubing up his tight ass. I have to admit, it was not a turn on for me at first. But Doc explained it for me. Josh was part of the team too. Josh liked to get fucked. Nothing wrong with that, right? I mean, the LT liked his cock sucked, I liked jerking off the LT, and Josh liked to get fucked. There was nothing wrong with helping Josh get what he needed. It was all for the team. It would make us a closer, stronger team.

God, Josh’s ass was so tight! Tighter than any woman. Tightest hole I’d ever fucked. He loved it too! Just like Doc said he would. We were on the same rhythm too. Josh’s head would bob up and down on the LT’s cock, his ass pushing back against my cock as he came up and then down as I pushed into him. It never felt this good with a chick. Half the girls I fucked just lay there. Chicks were such lame lays. Josh really knew how to take care of my cock.

I could see Doc off to the side. Watching us perform. He would type on the computer every now and then. He would give us instructions, make Josh suck faster or me fuck deeper. I never thought about what he was doing with the computer. I never thought about the Web cameras the LT had in the bedroom. I just kept focusing on how tight Josh’s ass was and how much better our team was gonna be. I kept thinking, if only Kyle and Justin were here, it would be perfect.

I remember seeing the LT toss his head back as he came. Josh seemed to sense it and clamped his lips around Chris’s cock. He was sucking all the cum out of that cock. It was like it was his life’s blood or something. Yeah, Josh loved cum. Well, seeing all that, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I pulled out of Josh’s ass (damn, he was tight) and blew my load all over his ass and back. I had my hand on Josh’s cock and took care of him too. He must have been close anyway—the minute I touched his piece, he blew all over the LT’s leg and sheets.

We all just collapsed on the bed. I listened to Doc tell us how tired we were. Yeah, he was right—I was fucking tired all of a sudden. He asked us to turn our heads to the side so he could take a still for the Web home page. I didn’t understand what he meant, but I did it and drifted off to a restful sleep. I loved this team!

Chris

Like most Saturday mornings, I mostly puttered around my apartment, cleaning up, doing laundry—the mundane things in life that still have to get done. I logged on to the server and uploaded the new video clips and pictures to that Web site Doc had me set up. I checked the online member enrollment system to make sure it was still working, and it was—I do good work. The credit card payments all went to Doc, into a special account he set up, and then he gave Josh, Cole, and me our cuts. I checked on the email too, and it was looking good. There was some for me but I didn’t look at it right then—figured I’d read mine later when Doc was there, like usual. I did notice Josh seemed to be getting a lot more email than I was, but I wasn’t jealous.

I had just finished when my pager went off. I had the thing clipped to the waistband of my shorts. It was set to vibrate, and when it went off like a mule kick, I felt the vibration spreading out from my hip all through my body: a warm, relaxing wave that sent me dropping back into that visualization state I knew so well. I knew just what I needed to do. I picked up the phone and called Doc on his private number.

He was waiting for my call and picked up on the first ring. He told me where to go, who to ask for. He told me what I was expected to do, for how much. I knew the drill; I’d done this before.

So I got dressed. Fatigues. I put on the tags that said my name was “Corporal Johnson.” Not my real name—not my real rank. This was for my protection. “Corporal” was kind of like “corporeal,” meaning “body. “Johnson” meaning “dick.” A fake identity I could put on, that let me do anything, so it wasn’t really me doing those things. They just wanted my body, after all, so my head could just sit back and enjoy the show. Doc told me so.

Justin

On the one hand, they were both good SEALs. On the other hand, they were drawing a line right down the middle of the team, which went against everything we’d been trained to believe in. Chris on one side, Kyle on the other. I don’t know what happened between them, but all of a sudden Kyle was—well, he was treating Chris like the enemy, and that just wasn’t right. Chris was our commanding officer, after all, our leader.

I didn’t know why, but I knew I was letting the stress get to me. I needed a break.

I can’t just go looking for sex. Not the kind I want, anyway. See, I’ve been to a gay bar. I’m a good-looking man, all lean muscle on me too, so I never had much trouble. But the guys I meet there—mostly they all want something more, like a relationship. They always try to hang on to me. Plus, there was always the danger of being seen at a queer bar. See, I’m a SEAL—I can’t be a homo, or they’ll throw me out. I’m not gay—I just like sex with men sometimes. This really kinky chick I used to date introduced me to it when she had us do a three-way with this other guy who was into me. I liked it but just as a way to get off. That’s why whenever I give in to that itch, it has to be just about sex and just for that one night.

A friend of mine—one of my few gay friends because he’s cool—suggested I try this escort service. At first I was all about, no way! But finally I gave the service a call. Sure I had to pay for it, but it was about the same price as getting into a bar and buying drinks. Plus it didn’t take nearly as long, and it was a sure thing. That first time, I got a hotel room, which I would have done anyway, and I called the service and told them what I wanted. An hour later he came to my hotel room—gave me a great massage, got me off really well too. Then he left. Just what the doctor ordered. See, he didn’t care who or what I was. Maybe he thought I was a visiting businessman or something. He didn’t care as long as he got paid.

So when my friend told me about these two new escort services in town, I figured I’d give one a try. He said they were new outfits, kind of small, but both were class operations. He said one of them had a Web site too, but since I don’t have a computer I couldn’t check it out. Both services specialized in “real men,” he said, meaning military types. That was their gimmick—their men were supposed to be real soldiers. I figured it was a great gimmick, so I figured I’d give one a try. I have to admit, part of the reason I joined the military was because I liked the bodies all that training produces.

So one Saturday afternoon, I’d had about enough after a week of listening to Kyle bitch about Chris and Chris ignoring Kyle—man, when Chris went into that focused visualizing mode, it was like nothing Kyle said registered. I know Kyle was pushing at him, wanting to make Chris blow up, but Chris ignored it, which just meant Kyle kept on and nothing got resolved, and I ended up stressed over the whole ugly mess.

So I gave the new service a call. The guy who answered has a really seductive voice. Perfect for phone sex, and I started to ask if he was into it, but I wanted more than just phone sex right then. He asked me some of the usual questions: what was I into, what was I looking to do, was I looking for top or bottom action, that sort of stuff, and I told him. Maybe someone blond. About so tall. Nice-looking. Built, hung, the usual. Sure, it could have been Chris I was describing, but it could have also been a hundred other guys. The man on the phone said he had the perfect guy for me and would have him at my hotel room inside of an hour. Even gave the guy a military rank, which I thought was a nice touch.

I took a shower, put my boxers back on, and stretched out on the hotel room bed to watch some tube while I waited. Let me tell you, there’s nothing worth watching on TV on Saturday afternoons.

About fucking time, I thought to myself when I heard him knock. “It’s open,” I yelled.

I heard the door open. The room was dark except for one small lamp on the dresser. I’ve found it’s better that way sometimes, y’know? I was sprawled out face down on the bed so he could see my ass. I looked over my shoulder. I saw his legs come into the circle of light the lamp threw on the floor. Doc Martins—okay, not military issue, but close enough. Camouflage pants—so far, so good. No real bulge in the crotch, but some guys are like that. Olive drab tee shirt, decent chest, dog tags. Points for authenticity.

Dark brown hair. A lot of it. Shoulder-length. Looked like it hadn’t seen shampoo or a comb in a while, either. Not authentic. Then finally his face. Well, he was young. Too young. I’m sure he was legal age—no agency would have touched him if he weren’t—but he sure didn’t look it. Had a face like twenty miles of rough road too. Maybe some guys liked ‘em young, and maybe for them young was enough, but I wanted a man who knew how to use his tool and, while I planned to fantasize my way through it, I had no intention of giving up my ass to some kid who was that ugly. Yuck. I’m a SEAL—I may like getting fucked once in a while, but I have my pride.

So I’m on my feet telling him thanks but no thanks, and I give him some cash to keep him happy, and I hustle him out the door and out of my life. Whew. Fortunately he didn’t make a big deal out of it. I guess, looking like that, he was used to it.

Then I called the other service. The guy who answered sounded a little like the guy from the first service but even sexier. Yeah, his voice was really low and smooth and sexy, like silky jazz rubbing across my ear. I wondered if there was some rule that said all services had to have guys who gave great voice answering their phones. Anyway, he asked me a lot of the same questions. I knew what I wanted so I had the answers down: I wanted a handsome man, hung, top action, a little rough but no kink. He told me the same thing—he had just the man for me and he’d have him there within an hour. Just one more thing, I told him—and I was thinking about the longhaired kid I just threw out—the guy has to look authentic, you know? The man on the phone assured me he would be. Yeah, well, I was willing to wait until I saw the guy before I passed judgment. I was horny, I was tired of this shit, and I’d already made up my mind that, if this guy was at all decent, he was in there! .

About twenty minutes later, someone knocked on my door. That was quick, I thought as I used the remote to turn off the tube.

He came in, and he walked to the dresser and his hand closed around the money I’d left sitting there. “Half now; half when you’re through,” I said. I know the service always said to pay them up front, but I’d had a guy once take the money and walk right out without giving me what I was paying for. Been there—learned that lesson. Most of them never complained about half and half.

The way the light was, from the bed I could only see him from the chest down. Nice body. Nice bugles, everywhere that counted. Trim and muscular—this dude took care of himself. Then he took a step closer into the light, and I got a good look at his face.

Holy shit—it was Chris, my :LT!

I hopped off the bed immediately. This must be part of some MP sting! Christ, how was I going to explain being in my boxers in a hotel and waiting for a hustler? I babbled out something like, “It’s not what it looks like, sir! I can explain!”

Oh, shit! That’s when I saw his eyes. They had that look he always gets in the field. This wasn’t Chris I was talking to—it was Viz Kid, and he was out to kick some ass. My ass!

He didn’t give me any warning—he just moved, swept my feet right out from under me, and dropped me on the bed. All the ways they taught us to drop an opponent in his tracks at SanDOG, and I never saw this one coming. Chris shoved me over on my stomach. I tried to push off the bed, but he jabbed at a nerve center, and my whole right arm went numb, and I fell back on my face.

Chris was on the bed, between my legs. I had the absurd thought that he was going to spank me and that I deserved it for being a bad boy, but that was stupid—I was an adult, for God’s sake, a SEAL. But I knew enough not to fight back. In Viz Kid mode, he’d kick my ass and not even think twice about it. Yeah, I guess I was kind of afraid of him when he got like that.

He grabbed my ass—well, not my ass, exactly, but the seat of my boxer shorts, and he tugged in both directions, and the center seam tore open right down the middle. Down the fucking middle! I wasn’t about to move, not with him in his ass-kicking mode and with my right arm still useless. I didn’t have a clue what he was going to do.

Then it hit me—Chris was hustling? Nah!

He parted my ass-cheeks, and I felt his tongue slide into my crevice. I froze—I didn’t know what to expect. None of the other guys had ever done that to me. I was glad I thought to take a shower a little while ago!

When his tongue first ran over my hole, I thought, that tickles! It made me squirm until he slammed his hand firmly into the small of my back, letting me know who was in charge. When his tongue started flicking around and across my butt hole, I thought it felt ... kind of interesting. I wasn’t sure about it but I thought I kind of liked it. Not that I’d ever do it to someone—I figured Chris was just doing it because of the money. I was starting to get into it, and my dick was hard, pressed between the mattress and me. When Chris’s tongue started pushing its way into my hole, I thought, oh, this is just too weird! But I didn’t make a move to stop him.

Pretty soon he’s got a spit-wet finger up there too, loosening me up, then he gets the lube off the nightstand and starts slicking me up. I heard him going at his belt and pants zipper. I probably should have been thinking this was like a fantasy come true, getting fucked by my C.O., but all I could think about was this guy held my career—my whole future as a SEAL—in the palm of his hand, and I was scared shitless about that.

I heard him tear open a condom, then he dropped the wrapper on the bed about two inches from my nose. I felt him getting ready and positioning himself at my hole. I’d been fucked enough to know what to do—push back like I was taking a shit and let him in. Damn!—when he started sliding it in, and in, and in, it felt like he must have been hung big—not incredibly thick, thank God, but long. Every time I thought he must have been close to all the way in, he pushed in another half-inch.

Chris fucked me just the way I’d told the guy on the phone that I wanted to get fucked: a little on the rough side. He hovered over me, holding my arms down my anchoring his hands on the backs of my triceps and putting his weight on them. At first it hurt, and I bit into the pillow to keep from yelling. After a while, the way he was slamming into my ass through the gaping hole in my boxers sent jolts from my prostate all through my body. Man, Chris sure knew how to fuck! His strokes would mash my cock between my hips and the mattress, and pretty soon I was about to cum, and cum good too! Man, I was seeing stars! When my balls started dumping their load, it was like the floodgates opened up inside me, and I came like crazy.

Chris fucked me until my balls were dry. I don’t know if he came or not—right then, I was too spent to move. Or care, really. He pulled out and pulled off his condom. He dropped it in the trash basket beside the bed.

I managed to turn my head. He was dressed again. I saw him pick up my wallet. “Please, Chris,” I moaned as he took some money out—the rest of his pay, or more, I didn’t care—“please don’t tell nobody, okay?” He acted like he didn’t even hear me. Man, I hated to sound weak—because a SEAL is never weak—but I was scared as hell. “Please, Chris, don’t tell. Please?”

He dropped my wallet and walked out. When the door snapped shut, I figured that was the end of my career.

Kyle

“Where the fuck is Justin,” I muttered as I waited in his apartment. I liked hanging out in Justin’s apartment. It was right on the best beach in town, known as “Chick’s Beach.” All the locals hung out there. There were good bars, and the beach was not crowded with tourists. Justin could afford this place because of his rich mom and dad.

Typical rich kid, I thought. Shit-hot pad, and he’s never around. I got him to give me a key in case I hooked up with some local chick. My place is this little dump on the west side of the “amphib” base. I liked Justin’s place—it impressed the chicks more.

Justin was a fucking idiot. Here it was, Saturday night, and the loser was nowhere to be seen. Typical moron. I hung out with him, though, all the time—mostly because the others were just not my types, too secure. I preferred Justin, who was a bit more reliant on other people. Justin was easily manipulated; sure, he was a SEAL and a good one, he just wasn’t the “I am In Charge” type. That was me.

So I helped myself to a beer, just kicked back, and made myself comfortable. I couldn’t get what happened yesterday out of my head. The fucking nerve of that Doc guy, thinking he could control me with mind tricks—what a creep! I guess what got me more was, half the team could have fallen for it. Couldn’t they see it coming? Well, I sure did. Let go of control? Bullshit.

Then it hit me. If Chris, Cole, and Josh could fall for it, maybe I could cash in on it. It would be perfect if I could find out what made them fall and to my advantage—I could take over the whole team and be in charge, just like I was supposed to be, if fuckers like Chris didn’t keep holding me back. With Mr. “Viz Kid” Chris under my control, the team would go the way I wanted it to. Then we’d really see some improvement, not some stupid visualization tricks that Chris and that Doc guy used. That would be shit-fine.

That’s when I hear keys jingling at the door, and I figured it was Justin. But all that happened was the keys kept jingling. And jingling. Finally, I got up and opened the damn door myself.

Justin almost toppled on top of me. The fumes of his drunkfest instantly slammed into me—the smell alone almost got me buzzed. I just stepped back and let Justin fall on the floor.

There was no excuse for this sorry-ass behavior. Man, Chris was really letting standard slip on this team. I demanded, “Fuck, Justin! What the fuck happened to you?”

Justin just looked up and started to laugh—the kind of laugh that means he’s tied one on just because life has pushed him a little too far. “Oh ... hey, Kyle,” Justin said. “What’cha doing here? Figured you’d be out hunting down some snatch.” He broke out in that miserable laugh again, yelling “Kyle, the great white snatch hunter!” between giggles.

I sighed. Okay—something was up. Justin liked to get drunk like all the rest of us SEALs, but he knew his limits and he never got this bad off before. Something was up.

I pulled Justin up, plopped him on the couch, and closed the door. I gave him my “I’m in control” attitude, both barrels. “Okay, what the fuck is going on, Justin? Out with it. No more fucking around—tell me, or I’ll kick the shit out of your measly SEAL ass.”

Justin just looked up without actually looking me in the eye. “Nothing, man. Nothing. I just got too much booze in me.”

I can’t stand that “I’m so pitiful” tone—makes my stomach turn. So I said, “Listen, fuckwad, you don’t tell me what’s wrong, then I gotta go tell the LT something is bothering you. Is that what you want?”

Justin gave me a look of pure terror. Yeah, that cut through his drunk all right. His head snapped right up. Lemme tell you, that gave me a feeling of real power.

Justin started babbling shit like, “No, Kyle, don’t tell the LT anything! Please, Kyle!” He tried to stand up but could barely manage to sit up straight, much less stand. All he did was slide off the couch onto the floor. “Please, Kyle, if you’re my bud, don’t tell the LT anything—I don’t want him involved in my stupid-ass mistakes. Not any more than he already is.” Yeah, Justin was really out of it. The booze having the usual effect: a little goes in, and a whole lot of truth comes out.

I just looked down at him with contempt. SEALS do not beg like that. If Justin had seen me face, he would have known the smart thing was to shut up and go to sleep, but I guess he thought I was in buddy-mode, because he kept talking nonsense like he expected me to support him. I thought, okay, let’s play it his way. So I spat out, “Okay, buddy. Tell me what happened. We are buds to the end, teammates. No matter what the problem is, I’ll help you.”

Justin never looked up. It all came tumbling out of him. “I ... ummm ... I did something so stupid. I hired a fucking escort tonight. I was so horny and wanted just some no-strings sex for the night. I don’t know why I did it—I just did it. I’ve done it before, but this time it got all fucked up. All fucked up.” Justin was practically sobbing, which only made me feel more disgusted. I’m no dummy, though—I could tell by the way he just sat there on the floor by my his feet, blabbing away the whole story, that if I interrupted he might snap out of his drunken stupor, and I wouldn’t hear the whole dirty story.

He told me the whole thing. When He let it slips that the escort was Chris, I just about freaked on the inside. Was this for fucking real? Yeah, I could use this.

I’m really good at keeping a poker face. I just smiled and knelt down and rubbed Justin’s head, telling him, “Relax, Justin. Your buddy Kyle will fix the whole thing.”

“Thanks, Kyle ...” he mumbled quietly, already starting to pass out.

I couldn’t stop smiling as I got my jacket and walked out, leaving poor “woe is me” Justin half-passed-out on the floor, mumbling how sorry he was that he was a cocksucker.

Co-Ownership

Kyle had been at my apartment for about an hour. We had been having this forced, oh-so-friendly chat about his team. Yes, three of the five of them were working with me on visualization—I always corrected him when he said they were under my control, though that was true. Yes, Kyle already knew quite a bit about it. He knew about the escort service, and he also knew about the web page. Kyle thought he had it all worked out. He wanted an arrangement. In return for Kyle keeping quiet and not going to his superiors with what he knew, he wanted me to let him “own” the team—his words—during the day at work and when they were out on operations. And me? Well, I could have them at night when they were at home station.

Kyle was just as cool as a proverbial cucumber. He wanted me to see him as a real player. Yeah, well, I can play it cool too. Kyle was no different from the coaches I had used in the past. He was willing to betray the trust of his teammates to get what he wanted more than anything—the only difference was, in his case what he wanted was not sex, but power. So just to see what would happen, I agreed to give Kyle exactly what he wanted. He would get control of Chris and control of the team. I would simply input the suggestion that, at work, Kyle was the center of the operation and that Chris should follow Kyle’s every suggestion as if it were right out of the SEAL operations guide.

Kyle’s smile really widened when I agreed. Amateurs!—they never realize how obvious their buttons are.

“I want one more thing, Doc,” Kyle said in this voice thick with lust. “I want the LT to call me ‘sir’ when no one else is around but the team. Make sure the team thinks it’s natural and not strange at all. Since I’m the leader and all.”

Okay. Time for me to play the conspirator. I chuckled. “Kyle, you don’t really understand the power of hypnosis. If I tell Chris you’re the one in charge, the one with the real power, he will naturally call you ‘sir.’ That’s part of his nature.” Kyle returned my smile but I sensed he was trying to read past mine. That’s all right, you amateur, I thought, I’ve already got you pegged.

I knew he was thinking he was going to get control of the team by day, then take me out of the picture so nothing would stand between him and “his” team. Poor Kyle. He had opened up his mind to me and let me know what drives him. That’s a very dangerous thing to give to a man who is uses another’s mind as a playground. A very dangerous thing indeed.” I didn’t say anything about this to him, of course—through it all, I just kept smiling right back at him as if I were happy with the “arrangement.”

Kyle got up. His way of saying our little chat was concluded.

“So, when will you do it?” He couldn’t hide the anticipation in his voice.

“Oh,” I said off-handedly, “probably this weekend. I need to lay a little groundwork first, and I can’t break the routine, you understand—it could throw off the hypnotic effect.” That was bullshit, of course, since I could do it any time I wanted, but I had a little planning to do before we played out this little “conspiracy” pact. “Not to worry,” I purred. “It will all be taken care of by next Monday morning.”

Kyle’s next words were just what I expected. He said, “I want to be there when you do it. I want to hear exactly what you tell them.”

“Of course, Kyle,” I said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I even managed to fake this little tone of fearful respect in my voice when I said it.