Deep Shell

"Wait," said Lacey. "You can do hypnotism for real?"

Jonathan was surprised. Shy, pretty Lacey rarely spoke up when there were this many people around, and of all the group of his friends who were gathered for lunch on the college lawn, Lacey is the one he least expected to lead the conversation.

"As real as it gets," said Jonathan. "I took it as an optional unit in psych, and we get to practice on volunteers under supervision. But you know it's not like the movies, right? It's not mind control?"

Lacey frowned. "You can't make people just do whatever you want?"

"Well," said Jonathan. "I can get people to do things that they wouldn't normally do. It's more like getting someone drunk - it lowers their inhibitions and reduces their self-critical capacity. You might do things that you wish you hadn't done, but not things that you didn't want to do."

Lacey thought about that. "Do you, like, practice outside of class?"

"Now that I'm finished the unit, I can," he said, "if I'm careful, on a consenting volunteer."

Lacey blushed, and avoided eye contact, as she shyly said, "Do you want to maybe try on me? I kind of want to see what it's like..."

Jonathan smiled. "I think that would be a lot of fun," he said...

***

Lacey turned out to remarkably quick to find her trance. Seated in a comfortable chair in his dorm room, dressed in a pretty, chaste, white dress, she was now staring blankly ahead, eyes unfocused.

"Can you hear me, Lacey?" he asked.

"Yes..." she breathed. Her voice was different to normal - softer and (he thought) sexier.

"Lacey," he began, "you asked me to hypnotise you. Do you remember?"

"Yes..."

"You seemed eager to be hypnotised. Were you eager?"

"Yes..."

He paused, then asked what he wanted to ask. "Why did you want me to hypnotise you, Lacey?"

Even in her trance, her face coloured slightly with embarrassment. "I want you to make me a fuckdoll," she said.

Jonathan's eyes widened. He hadn't expected such a blunt answer. The word "fuckdoll" sounded twice as obscene coming from Lacey's mouth. He'd never even heard her swear before.

"What does being a fuckdoll mean to you, Lacey?" he asked.

"I want to have to do whatever you say," said Lacey. "I want you to use me for anything sexual you want, even if it's painful or humiliating or in public. I want to have no choice."

"Why do you want that, Lacey?" he asked.

"Because I fantasise about you every night," she said. "But I get so embarrassed even hearing other people talk about sex. I can't ask you out. I can't consent to sex. I need someone to make me. I need to have the choice taken away."

"I can't make you do what you don't want to do, Lacey," he said.

"I know. I want to be a fuckdoll," she said.

"You know this session is being video recorded, don't you, Lacey?" he said. "I told you before we started I was recording it, for both our safety."

"Yes," she said. "But don't show it to me afterwards. I'll be embarrassed."

"Okay, Lacey," said Jonathan, slowly. "I think I'd like you to be a fuckdoll. I think I'd enjoy that a lot. Do you want me to make you my fuckdoll?"

"Yes..." Lacey practically moaned.

"All right," said Jonathan. "From now on, you're going to be my fuckdoll. You're going to obey any command I give you, and your whole reason for existing will be for my sexual pleasure. Do you understand?"

"Yes..." moaned Lacey. "I'll be your fuckdoll."

"But you won't remember this discussion, Lacey," he told her. "You'll forget you asked for this. You'll think I made you do this against your will."

Lacey responded to this with a noise of pure lust. "Yes. Yes," she mewled.

"You'll think you're a good, chaste girl, and that mean Jonathan is making you do these things," he said.

"Oh, yes..." said Lacey.

"And you'll only remember that you consented under two circumstances," said Jonathan. "The first is if someone thinks you're being abused and tries to help you, at which point you'll remember long enough to explain the situation to them, and then forget again," said Jonathan.

"Yes," agreed Lacey.

"And the second way you'll remember is if I say the words 'Deep Shell', in which case you'll remember long enough to tell me how you're feeling about our little arrangement, and then forget again."

"Yes," said Lacey.

"Good girl," said Jonathan, smiling. "Now, I'll count down from three, and when I reach one, you'll wake up. Three, two, one..."

***

Lacey got a lot of stares the next day at college. Her traditional chaste dress was gone. In its place was a short skirt - too short, because everyone could tell she wasn't wearing panties - and a tight tit-hugging pink top with the word "SLUT" written on it. Her hair was done in pigtails, and she was wearing a dog collar, to which was attached a dog-leash which Jonathan held.

Her face was bright red with humiliation, as people goggled at her, and men hooted and catcalled.

"I hate you," she whispered under her breath to Jonathan.

"Do you hate me because you're dressed like a whore in public?" he asked her. "Or because I raped you this morning? Or because you orgasmed from being raped?"

"All three," she insisted. "You're a pig."

"Just for that," said Jonathan, "you can bend over at the waist and show all these people your ass and pussy."

Lacey's eyes widened in horror, but she was unable to resist. She bent forward, tits hanging down, and gave the college quadrangle a wonderful view of her two holes.

"Deep Shell," said Jonathan quietly, as she held that position.

Her blush vanished, and she looked up slightly - still holding the position - and said, in a thick, passionate, voice, "Oh, god, yes. Thank you, master. I love you." Then her eyes lost focus for a second, and when they readjusted, she was blushing again.

"What a good fuckdoll," said Jonathan, loudly. "Come along, slut. I think I'd like to cum in your mouth before class. Let's go find somewhere that suits you - maybe near the dumpsters?"

"Pig," spat Lacey. "Die in a fire." But the whole quadrangle had just seen how dripping wet her pussy was, and when he pulled on her leash, she followed along like a good little fuckdoll...

(END)