tagMind ControlA Lady and the Student Ch. 01

A Lady and the Student Ch. 01


"Freud based his studies on hysterical, frustrated Victorian women. He was a man of his age and not relevant today. I agree he changed our thinking but we've progressed since then," Margaret countered.

"I agree, but did he maneuver psychology in the wrong direction?" Marvin asked.

Margaret shrugged her shoulders. She was a geologist graduate, not a psychology student like him. Besides, she was thirty-two and hadn't opened a text book in years.

Margaret and her ex-husband had a group of intellectual friends, often having discussions over a glass of wine, on every sort of topic. Of course, there had been arguments between the analysts and the behaviorists, though, she was no expert. Since the divorce there hadn't been many parties; none at all over the last few months.

"Hypnosis," he said. She shrugged her shoulders, so he continued. "As a student in Paris he used it. Returning to Vienna he had success when treating patients. Why don't we use it now?" he asked.

"I seem to remember he abandoned it because the results were poor," she answered.

"Yes. That was because he wasn't very good at it. Hypnosis had a bad name with the psychoanalysts, due to stage magicians misusing it. He dissociated himself from it to keep his wealthy patients. As you said, he was a man of his time. I think it's about time we researched the subject fully and used it in therapy," he enthused.

"It doesn't work, otherwise it would be used," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. A friend tried it to quit smoking and it was useless," she asserted.

"You said yourself the stage charlatans gave it a bad name. Subjects, hypnotized on stage, just use the excuse to behave like fools. They are probably exhibitionists, wanting to lark about and entertain their friends," Margaret added.

"I could prove it to you. It does work," he stated.

"I'm not a hysterical woman or a simpleton, young man. I can't be hypnotized. Besides, what do I want to be hypnotized for?" she asked.

"You practice yoga and meditation, it could help with that," Marvin suggested.

"I'm not sure. There are similarities, perhaps an overlap between the two. Eastern methods approach it from the inner-self, inward meditation. Whereas, the western approach is from the outside, with drugs, alcohol or, yes, even hypnosis," she mused.

"You can't be hypnotized, yet you've been hypnotizing yourself for years, and calling it meditation," he countered.

She poured another glass of wine and pointed the bottle toward his glass, which he covered with a hand.

"What would be the point? I mean, there must be a certain task to aim for and a measurement of the results. Freud just used subjective experience, whereas today, we use scientific methods, empirical evidence," she replied.

"What about a yoga position you haven't been able to achieve?" he asked.

"There's lots of those positions," she laughed.

He looked away in case his eyes gave him away. She had a good figure for a woman of thirty. It was probably kept slim through the yoga exercises.

"We could aim for a deeper level of meditation. Difficult to measure, but you could score that. Then through a deeper meditative state, you could achieve one of the difficult yoga positions. That could be easily measured," he suggested.

Thinking it couldn't be done, she contemplated indulging the young man. His enthusiasm, and the wine, had worked on her sensibilities. It had been refreshing taking in a student as a lodger. She had missed these intellectual discussions, and it helped with the mortgage - her ex-husband had inconveniently left it for her to pay.

She wanted to keep the house and didn't want to lose Marvin's stimulating company. He was just nineteen and full of life and enthusiasm. He would soon learn that life wasn't so easy, and was full of knocks along the way.

She looked at him sympathetically. It was no wonder he didn't have a girlfriend, he was too serious. He was a nerd, and bound to become a reclusive professor one day.

"Alright, let's give it a go," she announced. "Have you got a watch to dangle before my eyes?" she teased.

Sitting on the sofa she took a series of deep breaths while holding an arm out straight. She helped the process, by relaxing, and achieving a deep level of meditation.

"Your arm is becoming heavy, you are drowsy, and your eyelids are becoming heavy. You are completely relaxed," Marvin told her.

There was no need to say it, for she was already tired and relaxed, though that was the wine's influence. She had been working hard to keep the house on, make new friends, and coping with the divorce; all these things and more, conspired to make her feel washed out.

"Listen to me and I will remove all those complicated, troublesome thoughts," Marvin continued to sooth her into a reliant and susceptible state of mind. "You are under my command now and will follow my instructions," he finally told her.

The subtle instructions would be easy for her to carry out. He got her to repeat them in different ways, to make sure they were embedded. "You will not remember the instructions as my commands, rather, you will think of them as your own wishes. You will score the meditation highly. You will feel relaxed and pleased with the session," he told her.

"So, what do you think?" Marvin asked.

"I. I don't feel as though I was hypnotized, though, yes, I feel good. I did reach a deeper meditative state. It's difficult to score. I think it might be easier to score a yoga position, perhaps, I'm not sure how, but maybe we could try that?" she asked.

It was disconcerting, offering to practice yoga in front of him. She wondered why she had. The frown on her face was lifted, when he smiled at her, as though she had come to the correct solution to a problem.

"Yes, we should do this properly. It's no good doing things half heartedly, let's go for it," she smiled back at him.

"Tomorrow then, we can make a start when I get back from classes?" Marvin asked.

Margaret looked disappointed. "Well, I guess so," she agreed.

Marvin stood up and wished her sweet dreams, leaving her sitting on the sofa, looking as though she wanted to say something. Not giving her a chance to back out of the promise, he quickly went to his room, to write up the notes on her progress.

He had a good idea what he wanted to achieve with this subject. At least a start had been made, toward accomplishing the plan.


The next day Margaret was busy with chores. It was a surprise to hear the front door open and close. She looked at the clock to see her lodger was home early.

"Hi, how was your day?" he asked.

This was a surprise, for he usually scuttled off to his room to study before dinner.

"Do you mind if I make a coffee," he asked. "I've come back early to continue our experiment," he said.

"Oh! Yes. I remember now, sorry, I'd forgotten," she lamely stated. A look of confusion crossed her face. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea," she added.

"It's up to you. You said you wanted to see this experiment through, properly," he told her, looking expectantly at her.

"Well maybe, just this once, as I promised," she hesitantly replied.

He made the coffee and handed her a cup, making sure it was the right one. He watched her stare into the cup, obviously wondering if she was doing the right thing. After a few sips of the coffee she downed it and smiled at him. The drug used in her wine last night and in this coffee, were helping assuage her reluctance.

"You had better get changed, if you want to continue," he stated, using the key words given last night, while she was hypnotized.

Feeling unsure of herself she walked into the lounge where he was waiting. Last night it had been just a moment of fun, indulging him, in the spirit of a scientific experiment. Now sober, she felt foolish. She also wondered why she had forgotten about the promise. Otherwise, she would have had all day to come up with an excuse not to continue.

Margaret felt self-conscious in the leotard, before a young man, who was sure to compare her with the young women in college. He smiled at her and she relaxed. He hadn't looked her over in a predatory way, so she relaxed a little more.

Marvin gave her a big smile, from being pleased with himself. She had been right about the western approach and the use of drugs, but she hadn't tasted anything in the coffee. The simple suggestions had worked too, for she had agreed to another session, with yoga included this time, despite not feeling comfortable.

They went through the routine as they had last night, until she sat compliantly waiting for instructions.

"Go through your yoga routine," he ordered. He could watch her carefully now, as she impressively bent her body, limbering up. This was why she was reluctant to practice the moves in front of him.

The stretchy outfit clung tight around her slim frame. It was pulled tight between her cheeks as she bent over grabbing her ankles. It was especially stimulating for him, as he felt like a voyeur. She bent and stretched, as though he wasn't there. He leaned forward, to get a closer look between her legs, and felt his cock growing hard.

The temptation to push things along was strong, but he restrained himself from spoiling the experiment. There was a long way to go if he was to reach the target.

"That was terrific, I haven't been able to get into that position so well in ages," Margaret gushed. She felt like a teenager again, from being so full of energy. "Meditation and yoga work well together for me. You were right! They were both enhanced through hypnosis. I'm sure of it," she emphatically stated.

"Can we try another session after dinner," Margaret enthused.

"I'm not sure, though, it's up to you," he demurred. He let her push him into it and laughed inside, when she insisted on something he wanted to do.

Margaret entered the lounge with a renewed optimism and energy. "Hope you don't mind me wearing this, it should make it easier to bend," she smiled.

Once she started the yoga routine he took a closer look at the stretchy bodysuit. It just covered her torso rather than all over, which the other one had. It was certainly easier to bend her body, for it was a much thinner fabric. It was also easier to see how smooth and flexible her body was.

She only wore a thong instead of the large panties, which was obvious when she bent away from him. Her firm cheeks were plainly revealed, when she grabbed a hold of both ankles. In that position, with feet slightly apart, the outline of her crotch was clearly visible.

He imagined slipping the thin piece of fabric to one side. These thoughts would have to stop! He had to look away, while imagining holding onto her hips, pressing himself up against her, and much more. Unable to take it, he instructed her to stop, and practice a difficult position. She was just short of getting her heels behind her head. The position was more frustrating for him than her.

"You managed it, well done. You will remember that position and will feel very proud of your achievement," Marvin told her, despite the failure.

After reminding her of the new instructions, and that they were her own ideas, he brought her round.

"That was great! What a good idea it was, I'm glad we started the experiment now," Margaret gushed with enthusiasm.

"Don't try the positions without being relaxed first, as you might hurt yourself," he warned her.

"Of course not, I know I couldn't normally achieve such a high level without you. Thank you, Marvin. That was so good, I feel terrific," she enthused. "You really are Marvin the master, thank you sir," she said, with a bow, as though he were the yoga master.

She put a hand to her mouth and giggled. She looked embarrassed for a moment then quickly recovered, when he smiled approval at her.

She put a finger in her mouth, looking puzzled. "After that I feel famished, do you fancy a late supper," she asked. Speaking over the finger produced a slight lisp, but she didn't seem to notice it.

"Do you want me to help?" he asked.

"No, of course not, you're the master. You just sit and contemplate the next instructions to give me," she blithely told him.

Bringing in a tray of cheese, crackers and wine, she poured out two glasses of red Bordeaux. "Shall I sit at the master's feet?" she said. A look of embarrassment crossed her face, quickly turning to a giggle, shielded behind a hand.

Between sips of wine she put a finger in her mouth, speaking around it awkwardly, though not seeming to notice the lisp. "I didn't think it would work but it has. I feel so wonderful having achieved so much, in such a short time. You were right! You are a master of the art, and I'm proud to be helping you," she cheerfully told him.

He was staring at her small, hard breasts, through the thin material stretched over them.

"Is there something wrong," she asked.

"Perhaps you should get a new leotard as we are going to be practicing so much," Marvin suggested.

"I was thinking the same," she giggled, again lifting a hand to cover her mouth. This time she ignored the action, accepting it as normal.


Next day she had already changed into the new leotard, when he arrived back from college. She slipped off the dressing gown and lifted her arms, turning around for him to admire it. "What do you think?" she asked.

It wasn't a leotard at all, it was a body stocking. Despite having ordered her to buy it, he was shocked. He should have been prepared. The see-through garment was impressive, or at least her body was.

"It's great, you look fabulous," he answered, without thinking.

"I'm pleased you approve, sir," Margaret giggled. The little lisp was there even without the finger between her lips.

He had gotten away with the remark, though made a mental note not to slip up again. He had to be careful what he said, otherwise she might shy away from the experiment.

This time, when she stretched and bent over, everything was on show through the thin nylon. Before being brought round he gave her further instructions, as planned. Later in the evening he reinforced the instructions and as usual, shared a bottle of wine with his prize pupil.


Marvin got up late Saturday morning; after all he was student, wasn't he? Margaret was out, so he assumed she had gone shopping, as usual. Halfway through breakfast she came bustling in.

"Oh! I'm glad you are up, I just couldn't wait to show you the new outfits I bought," Margaret giggled.

Before he could turn around she left the kitchen. He heard her run to the bedroom, with the large bags she had returned with. Unable to sit and wait, he started washing up the breakfast dishes. The anticipation was making him nervous. Had she carried out the next set of instructions, or had he pushed her too far too soon?

"Here I am, sir. What do you think," she giggled.

He watched her turn, swirling the light miniskirt up around her bare thighs. The low scooped top showed she had bought a push up bra to enhance her small breasts.

"It looks great! Your hair looks nice too," he enthused.

"Oh! Sir, you noticed!" she giggled, and put a finger to her lips. "I just thought blondes have more fun, so I had it dyed. They fixed up my nails too," she smiled, showing off the garish red fingernails, which matched the glossy lips.

Margaret looked confused for a moment. She put a finger between her lips, as though it was helping her to think. She was confused over feeling so flirtatious. It was probably from not having a husband for the last six months. That also might explain why she was dressed in such a young fashion.

She shouldn't be trying to please this young man. She was a mature married woman with a lot of experience to offer. That thought struck her hard. What must she look like to him, dressed like this?

She giggled with embarrassment. Why in hell was she behaving like a love struck schoolgirl in front of this nerdy young boy? It would have to stop! She would have to take the stupid clothes back. As for the make-over that had gone too far. It too would have to be changed.

"You look so much younger, Margaret. The makeover really suits you," he said. He gave her a big reassuring smile. "Let me make you cup of coffee," he added.

Rather than run off upstairs to change, she changed her mind instead, and sat down at the kitchen table.

"The whole look suits you so well," he firmly told her.

"Do you really think so? It's not too young for me?" she asked, with a pained expression.

"It's perfect!" he pronounced emphatically.

"Well, it's a big change. I don't quit know why I agreed to it. I let the girl give me a makeover, without really thinking about it," she mused. "If you think it's alright, I guess I could get used to it," she demurred.

"Perhaps you could give me an extra special session this afternoon," she asked.

He watched her eyes, waiting for the drug to take affect. "Yes, that would certainly help you relax, and get used to your new image," he smiled.

Having changed she joined him in the lounge. Again he had her practice the yoga routines and gave her further instructions. They were designed to be small, personal wishes, things she would want to accomplish. There were also small changes of behavior which she would unconsciously practice.

"It's kind of you to help me with my yoga, sir," Margaret said. She noticed the little girly voice used, and stopped speaking. The sound of her voice was unusual, as though someone else had spoken. She cleared her throat and tried to continue.

"Would you like a glass of wine, sir," she asked.

Again she coughed, trying to regain her composure. She felt self-conscious of the higher pitch of her voice. It felt as though her vocal cords were strained. Not daring to speak she went to fetch a bottle of wine and some snacks.

"When we started you were going to score the experiment. What do you think of it now?" he asked.

"Oh! It's wonderful," she started to say then shied off. She giggled with a hand covering her mouth.

The coquettish movement was interesting for he hadn't order it. He gave her a big smile of encouragement.

"Something's happened to my voice," she said. The giggle and hand movement occurred again. She put a finger to her mouth, wrinkling her brow, obviously trying to think why it had happened.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure it will clear up. Perhaps you're coming down with a cold," Marvin told her.

"Oh! I'm sure you are right, sir. You know so much more than I do," she gushed.

She didn't notice the lisp, the finger to mouth action, or that she was calling him 'sir'. He wondered why she should notice the change of voice.

"Did you go to university?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"No. I wasn't clever enough. I left school after high school," she stated, as though it were true.

A geography degree might not sound much, but she had been offered a post at the university, with good prospects. She was an intellectual, holding her own, when debating with her ex-husband's friends. Marvin knew this, from her husband, when he asked for background information.

"So what do you think of Sigmund Freud's theories?" he asked.

"Who is he?" she asked, and responded with an embarrassed giggle.

"It doesn't matter," he sighed.

"I'm sorry, sir. Should I know him?" she asked, looking worried.

"No. I was just thinking of something. It doesn't matter. You shouldn't worry your pretty head over it," he told her. Giving her a big reassuring grin, she perked up.

"Yes, sir, you're so clever and I'm just a silly woman, sometimes," she said. A look of disquiet wiped the smile from her face. Margaret stood with a finger in her mouth, looking cute and girly.

"I wasn't clever enough to go to university, like you, sir, so I guess that's right. I am a silly little thing," she mused. Having resolved the quandary, she gave him a big smile.

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