Just Joan Ch. 02

There was a patch of jerkiness in the video, a rustling, and then darkness. This lasted so long that Sinne almost hit fast forward, but then it seemed the camcorder must have adjusted to the new light level or something, because now you could make out what was going on. At first it looked like a small room with curtains, but it became apparent this was not so when Sinne noticed the shoes on the floor, one pair of casual men's dress loafers, and one pair of silver fuck-me-pumps. The shoes were there because the camera was under the table, and the "curtains" were the floor-length tablecloth.

There was some final adjustment to the placement of the camera: pointed such that both pairs of legs from the diners above were visible and in the field of view. Then, as the image stablilized, Sinne saw someone, the cameraperson, evidently, crawling forward to meet the silvery high heels. Someone whose identity was obvious from the elegantly-coiffed red hair and the tight little black dress-- $229 at Bebe, got it on-sale for a mere $117-plus-tax.

It was herself, of course. Crawling on hands and knees, exposing her ass and garters to the camera as her dress hiked up. Parting Joan's dress at the slit, and slowly licking her way up the other woman's leg from the ankle onwards. As she rounded the knee, Sinne-onscreen was gently pressing Joan's thighs to either side, exposing the brunette's neatly trimmed bush before it was concealed again-- concealed behind the back of Sinne's head, which dove forward on camera, eagerly, almost desperately, into Joan's muff.

It was impossible to see onscreen exactly what was happening-- this wasn't the fake angle generally used in porno movies. All that was visible was the back of Sinne's head, slowly turning this way and that, now and then grasping for leverage on the sides of Joan's thighs. But it was enough to make Sinne-- the Sinne sitting on her hands on her couch-- come like a fiend. None of this was familiar to her, at all, not the restaurant, not the cuntslurping she was delivering to Joan (and she could hear the noises, by god, she could hear Joan's soaked pussy slapping against her own face, sloppy with every stroke), nor the way you could hear Arch and Joan in the background, continuing their casual dinner conversation, Joan's voice more than a little distracted. Sinne was drawing a complete blank, here, which could mean only one thing...

She'd been under. She'd been hypnotized, and made to do this by Joan.

Her fingers danced in her slit and she let out a guttural sound.

***

"Relax, dear, and focus on my eyes as you feel your body growing heavier and heavier..."

Joan's induction was making Sinne feel randy already, and Joan could tell. She made a gesture, and Arch moved to comply, affixing his mouth to Sinne's cunt.

"... and as you concentrate on my voice you will find that it fills your mind..."

Arch's tongue manipulated her clitoris and it couldn't have been more than a minute before she was able to come, both from his nimble attentions and from the idea that the slow, drowsy sensations she was feeling were the precursor to trance. Her breath slowed after the climax, and she found it deepened her ability to relax.

To relax and do what Joan told her to do. Her nipples tingled and tightened at the thought. Arch redoubled his efforts as he heard her moan, and Joan continued with her droning, silken phrases.

"... feeling youself enter a warm, soft place where you can feel only peace and your thoughts can gradually become blank..."

Her hips bucked upward at Arch's face as he added two fingers to his ministrations, touching her inside, finding that spot that drove her crazy. She doused him with her juices as she successfully, though barely, managed to stay focused on Joan's eyes, and her words.

Her breath caught on the cusp of orgasm, and the wash hit the back of her head, and as she exhaled in bliss she did feel like she'd entered a warm, soft place. Her body felt so relaxed. Just as Joan was telling her it was.

It was working.

"Keep looking into my eyes, Gloria, and I want you to imagine you are falling into them. No fear in falling, no, just slow, gentle drift, like a feather..."

And Sinne could feel it, like a feather, and Joan's eyes were so big and welcoming and she was sinking, going under, at last, at last, and it was making her so fucking horny to think about how she must look, becoming open and compliant. Her pussy was afire again at the thought.

Before the excitement could draw her out again, Joan spoke calmly and with a gentle cadence of sleepiness, and Arch had his cock in her now; she barely would have understood that it was there but for the pleasure it brought her, as his thrusts matched the rhythms of Joan's speech.

"... deeper and deeper..." and she was sinking deeper and deeper into Joan's enchanting eyes, and Arch was going deeper and deeper inside her, the topside of his rigid cock giving indirect pressure to her clit, and bringing her to the brink yet again.

"... letting yourself let go, letting yourself be hypnotized by me..."

The word "hypnotized" pushed her over the edge into animal movement, animal need, and the animal squeezed with her inner muscles as her pussy came once more. The animal did all of this, because the mind was sinking, floating downward on a cloud of sexual satiation, drawn by Joan's eyes and voice, down into the oblivion she wanted more than anything.

She came many more times that night, but she would remember none of them, for after the animal took over the body's needs, her mind was left disconnected, with nothing left to do but take instructions from her Joan, her wonderful, successful, entrancing Joan.

Her eyes slowly closed, and she finally obeyed the commands to sink deeper.

***

The scenes after the restaurant on the tape, taking place mostly in Arch and Joan's home, were stilted, as if the camera had been shut off, or even ignored altogether. There were segments with Sinne's bra-covered tits plastered up against the front window, her fingers playing with her clit through her panties as she watched passers-by; the tape didn't indicate how many passers-by watched her. There were parts with her hungrily devouring Joan's pussy, begging this woman to be her Goddess, to enslave her, to please gift her with the cuntjuice she had earned; images of Arch fucking her from behind, holding onto her garter-belt like a harness, her mouth pleasuring Joan's tits, her clit, her ass. Through it all, the onscreen Sinne obeyed. Without a question, without even a look of curiosity on her face, she did what she was told to do by the lovely brunette-- this woman who was her own slave. And Mistress... Goddess...? It was so easy to lose track. And so delicious.

Sinne's couch smelled like a whorehouse, and her fingers were wrinkled from the heat of her steamy twat. Sinne was coming, and coming hard, and couldn't seem to (and didn't want to!) stop. She had the VCR paused on the last frame of the last scene. Yes, the memories had come flooding back as the recording showed her what she'd done, and she realized now that Joan had craftily planted the suggestion for her to forget everything until she saw it on the tape. Perhaps too craftily; Sinne would have to make sure, now that she'd succeeded, that Joan was properly under control and not taking matters too interestingly into her own hands. Sinne wondered, then, if she'd made a mistake in giving Joan a bit too much of her own dominant tendencies.

But that was almost irrelevant (though to tell the truth it was a somewhat arousing thought on its own-- she'd even come to that particular concept once already); no, what was important now, what was driving her lusty screams to echo through her empty house, was the image on the television screen.

A full-on shot of her own face, taken by Joan after she had serviced them for hours. Makeup smeared into disarray, damp with perspiration and cunt, hair down and sticking to her cheeks.

And The Look in her own eyes, that blank, sweet Look, of complete and utter resistance-free compliance.

Staring into those eyes, Sinne came again, and again and again and again until the VCR switched itself off. Never knowing that the look on her face now, as she scooped more fuckjuice into her drooling mouth in between strokes, was virtually identical to that on the screen in front of her.

If she had known, she would merely have come harder.