tagMind ControlHypnotic Hosiery: A Professor Falls

Hypnotic Hosiery: A Professor Falls

bysilkstockingslover©

Summary: A coed uses nylon feet to turn her Professor into a lez pet.

Note 1: This story was inspired by a few hypnotic pantyhose videos including: Professor Mink Gets Schooled and Krissy's Best Friend's Mother Ms. Mink (starring Krissy Lynn and Mindy Mink), Under Her Influence (starring Savannah and Tilly McReese), Dani and Cherie Pantyhose (staring Dani Daniels and Cherie Deville) and Mesmerizing Sex With Her Friends Mom (staring Adriana Chechik and India Summer).

Note 2: Thanks to Tex Beethoven, mangababy, Mesa Man and Wayne for editing this story.

Hypnotic Hosiery: A Professor Falls

Professor Banes droned on about the evils of men... like she seemed to do every class.

Today our professor who was dressed in a blouse and slacks like she always was, ranted on about male inventions to keep women enslaved to male power and fetishes.

The first half hour was about high heels... something I wore all the time... as they were sexy as fuck.

The second half was on pantyhose... something I also wore all the time... well, truth be told, it was sometimes pantyhose, sometimes a garter-belt and stockings, sometimes thigh highs and occasionally some crotchless pantyhose (these I wear either when going to the Le Chateau Club on the hunt for some MILF to pleasure me... or two... or three... my record was four in one night).

When she looked at me seated in the front row wearing a skirt, nylons and heels, she shook her head in not-so-subtle disgust, I knew she would be my guinea pig.

I had been learning and practicing hypnosis for a few months. I had hypnotized a few people, made them do some fun things, but never anything overtly sexual (okay, I actually had them do lots of overtly sexual things, just nothing nefarious or actual sex)... but my loquacious professor seemed like the perfect choice to explore my hypnosis skills in a more devious way... something I had been pondering doing for a while.

I was a feminist... in the sense that I believe women are equal to men, can wear what they want whether slutty or conservative, but the key to me is never to judge other women (which the Professor was doing, albeit I suppose I was judging her as well). Thus, I would feel no guilt in potentially turning her into the exact thing she was warning us against.

Our major paper was due the next Friday, so I wrote one that focused on the power of hypnosis. My three proof paragraphs were about the ability to alter people's predictable behaviour, the power of suggestion in altering people's appearance, and lastly how hypnosis can alter not only behaviour but sexual orientation.

I had real evidence for my points: a summary of past experiments for proof one, real research from advertising companies for proof two, and proof three was generic fantasy babble about what I planned to do to her. I also provoked her by focusing that section on the compulsive power of high heels, stockings and subliminal messaging.

A blow job to the janitor was all it took to gain access to her office, where I borrowed the CD she always had playing in her office... a jazz mix that was already quite relaxing, and I had a nerd friend, who I had go down on me on occasion, help me add subliminal messages throughout the cd.

The CD had the following assertions subliminally added:

1. All Professors should wear pantyhose and high heels.

2. Toes in nylons relax you.

3. Pantyhose, nylons, stockings and thigh highs are sexy.

4. You must obey girls in nylons.

5. You are a submissive slut underneath your geek professor persona.

6. Having your feet and legs massaged puts you in a pliable hypnotic state.

7. You crave coed cunt.

These seven phrases now had played in her office all week while she graded papers and met with students. I realize I was risking students becoming subliminally hypnotized as well... but it was a risk I was willing to take.

On Monday, I was excited when she came to class wearing a blouse, skirt, nylons and heels... she had obeyed my subliminal messages.

I wasn't surprised when she ripped my blasphemous (to her) essay apart in front of the entire class, calling it complete nonsense and an insult to women everywhere. She never used my name, but she looked directly at me and referenced some of my 'so-called' evidence.

I was about to ask why she was wearing heels and nylons when someone else did.

She looked down at herself and looked surprised. Under well-crafted subliminal manipulation, the person just performs the task without even realizing they are doing it. It just becomes a part of what they do, who they are. She stammered, clearly surprised by her own attire, "I-I-I have an important meeting later today."

Someone else asked, questioning her past lectures where she had stressed how women always had to stand up for what they believed in, "So you change your appearance based on your situation?"

"Well, sometimes we have to," she said, uncomfortably, realizing she was going against her own feminist rants.

The same person questioned, "Wouldn't you say that's rather pretentious and condescending?"

"Um, no, sometimes women have to play into society's standards in an attempt to overturn the hierarchy," she said, which I thought was a pretty impressive recovery.

Professor Banes reassumed control of the class and lectured about overcoming obstacles. I considered teasing her by slipping out of my heels and seeing if the toe conditioning had worked, but decided that was better left for a one on one conversation... which I planned to undertake once class was finished.

Once she left, my classmates talked about how weird Professor Banes had acted today and how everything she had been spewing the past month now seemed insincere.

I smiled as I headed out and went directly to her office.

I knocked on the door and she said, after a moment, "Come in."

"May I see you about my essay, Professor Banes?" I asked politely.

"Sure, sure," she nodded, seemingly still quite flustered... as she was clearly trying to understand how she'd ended up in nylons and heels today.

"Thank you," I said, closing and slyly locking her door.

I sat down in a chair and as she always did, which was perfect for my plan, she moved to a chair, so she could face me. This would mean among other things that she would be able to see my nylon-clad toes.

I asked, once she was seated, my essay in her hands, "What was wrong with my essay?"

She shook her head in disgust, "What wasn't wrong with it?"

"Professor, all the research in that paper is accurate," I stressed.

"What research? All you have here is ridiculous theories," she replied, waving my paper around and clearly annoyed she was actually having this conversation.

I said, "I disagree. Each of my theories can be backed by research."

"So, the notion you can alter a person's sexuality is backed by real research?" she scoffed.

"That case study is in the works as we speak," I slyly foreshadowed, knowing she wouldn't catch on to what I was implying... that she was my case study.

"Where is that research?" she asked, as she again waved my essay dismissively in the air, "It's sure not in here."

"I'll likely have it completed by the end of the day," I said, confident I would have her between my legs within minutes.

"Regardless, the idea that hypnosis can manipulate people is ridiculous. It's a parlour trick, no more, no less," she claimed, as I slipped my feet out of my heels and wiggled my toes.

As I did, I pointed out, "Ad agencies have used hypnotic manipulation to sell products for decades."

"That isn't hypnosis," she countered.

"Its mental manipulation, and hypnosis works on the same principle," I argued, wiggling my nylon clad toes again.

"I don't see it," she said, even as I noticed her staring at my feet.

"Why do people buy Coke over Pepsi by a large percentage since they taste almost identical?" I asked.

"Brand recognition," she said smugly, thinking she had proven me wrong.

"Exactly," I agreed. "Coke has manipulated our brains to believe Coke is better than Pepsi."

"Or maybe it just is better," she countered, her argument weak, even as it was apparent my mental manipulation was working... she was distracted.

"I think you need to be a part of the manipulation," I said.

"I can't be hypnotized," she said, even as her eyes followed my toes... even as she was oblivious that she was becoming hypnotized.

"Anyone can be," I said. "It's just a matter of well-chosen mental manipulations."

"Where is your proof?" she demanded, frustrated, even as I could see her getting flustered, glancing at my toes every few seconds as if unable to resist staring at them. She squirmed in her seat... clearly getting uncomfortable.

"In the making," I said, raising my foot slightly.

"I need to get back to work," she said, dismissing me.

I slipped out of my other heel refusing to be dismissed and pointed out, "You still haven't given me any constructive criticism or advice on my paper."

"I'm not sure any advice is possible to improve this piece of rubbish," she said, shaking her head, even as she continued looking at my feet every few seconds.

"But that is your job," I pointed out, enjoying watching her squirm as she unknowingly fell under my spell.

"Yes, it is," she agreed, "but your argument has no merit. My recommendation is to start a new paper on a different subject."

"So why are you really wearing pantyhose today?" I asked. "It's obvious you don't actually have a meeting later."

I was swinging my foot back and forth, like a hypnotist's watch, which was greatly distracting her... her cheeks going red. I was pretty sure I was making her horny and that she was likely already wet. She said, beginning to succumb to a daze, admitting the truth, "I really don't know."

"You were surprised to discover yourself actually wearing them when it was pointed out, weren't you?" I asked, continuing my tempting tease, as I crossed my leg, bringing my foot even closer to her.

"Well yes, I don't even recall putting them on," she admitted.

"And the heels?" I asked.

"I haven't worn these since a wedding three years ago," she answered.

"But you wore them for me today, didn't you?" I asked.

"What? No!" she said, shaking her head adamantly, as if that would make it not true.

"So why are they there?" I asked. "I mean, you never wear them, you rant against them in class, and yet here you are, wearing the 'nefarious male inventions' of pantyhose and high heels."

"Why did you take your shoes off?" she asked, countering my question with a question, even as she was no longer even attempting to make eye contact... my sheer lustrous feet were all she could look at.

"As a part of the manipulation," I answered bluntly, deciding it was time to accelerate the discussion.

"Excuse me?" she questioned, looking at me... breaking eye contact with my tantalizing toes.

"Are you not staring at my feet, Professor Banes?" I questioned, as she looked back down at them involuntarily. Going on the offensive, I added, "It's true that you can't take your eyes off of them, isn't it?"

"That's ridiculous," she denied almost shouting, even as she was unable to take her eyes off my delicate toes.

I intoned, using a soothing voice, knowing that was critical to a full trance, "Just relax, Professor Banes, and stare at my sexy, silky, toes."

She scoffed, even as she obeyed and continued to stare at my toes, "You're trying to hypnotize me?"

"You wanted proof, and you are the proof," I clarified. "Now relax, Professor Banes. Listen to the soft tone of my voice. Stare at my nylon-clad toes. I even painted them red, just for you."

"This is ridiculous," she repeated, although she was failing to look away... she was completely unable to break eye contact. Her body had succumbed, her brain had succumbed, and her moral code was hanging by a thread.

I asked, repeating the question, "Why are you wearing pantyhose and high heels today? You've repeatedly made it clear that they are a man-made invention that no woman should ever wear!"

"Are you claiming you made me wear them?" she asked, trying to break her gaze away from my nylon clad toes, but after a quick glimpse into my eyes and my sly smile, she returned to my toes.

"Perhaps," I shrugged. "Do you have a better explanation for why you are in pantyhose and high heels today?"

"Um, I, have a meeting today," she repeated, forgetting we had already established she didn't... she was grasping at straws and fading quickly from any semblance of control.

"Yes, you do," I nodded, "and it's with me. Now put your legs in my lap," I ordered softly, not with the inflections of an order, yet it indeed was one.

Again, she scoffed, even as she obeyed while not realizing she was obeying, and put her feet in my lap, "Why would I do that?"

"Because you are already falling under my spell," I softly explained, as I removed her heels.

"I am not!" she claimed defiantly, as I tossed her heels away and took her right foot into my hands... her nylons were surprisingly a nice silky sheer pair... also surprisingly, her toenails were painted red.

"Now relax, Professor Banes, as I massage your stocking-clad feet," I instructed, pulling her deeper into my web of submission.

"This is so inappropriate," she said, and added, completely oblivious that she was obeying my every word, "and you're delusional."

"Listening to a soft, calm voice, gazing at silky sheer nylon toes and receiving a gentle, soothing, deep, foot massage can induce a hypnotic state," I explained, as I did each of those things as she involuntarily continued staring at my nylon-clad toes.

"Ashley," she said, getting a bit groggy, "your philosophy is impossible to prove."

"But doesn't this feel nice, Professor Banes?" I asked ignoring her pathetic protests, as I massaged each of her toes one at a time.

"Um, it's inappropriate," she said, looking confused, even as she gave up just the slightest of moans.

"What is?" I asked innocently.

"Your massaging my feet," she said.

"But you're letting me do it," I pointed out, continuing to massage.

"I am not," she argued adamantly.

"If your decisions are not under my control, then how did you end up in pantyhose? How did your feet end up on my lap? How did your heels end up on the floor? And how did your toes..." I continued, as I moved her foot to my lips and sucked on her big toe, "...end up in my mouth?"

"I-I-I don't know," she stammered with another soft moan... this one louder.

"Just relax and let it happen, Professor Banes," I repeated, "you're falling completely under my spell."

"Am not," she whispered weakly, sounding like a first-grader, as I sucked on her second toe and she let out another soft moan.

"Are you not relaxed?" I asked soothingly.

"Yes, but..." she said, fading deeper into my trance.

"Because you're falling under my control," I explained.

"Why me?" she asked.

"I'm proving that the impossible, as you term it, is possible," I said, my seductive, relentless tone never changing. "I'm proving my theory works."

"How did you do it?" she asked, looking confused.

"By manipulating your brain and turning you into a submissive plaything," I explained, foreshadowing my true intent, sucking on her middle toe.

"Submissive plaything..." she repeated as a question, but in a dazed state where it wasn't a question, but a repetitive chant.

"I've opened up your true inner emotions, your true sexuality, and now I'm opening up your body," I continued, pulling her deeper into a trance, sucking on another toe.

"This is wrong," she whispered, her defiant personality fading quickly, as she continued protesting with generic statements while not backing them with any action.

"Now I'm going to turn off your brain and take complete control of you," I explained, seriously pleasuring her pinky.

"That isn't possible," she objected, grasping at the last straws of control, even as she fell into a deeper state of obedience.

"Like I told you," I repeated, "I'm making the impossible possible. Now relax, Professor Banes. Your only purpose is to please me."

"But I'm old enough to be your mother," she pointed out.

"Oh?" I purred, "Does Professor have a mommy-daughter fetish fantasy?"

"No," she shook her head unconvincingly.

"Tell me Professor Banes, what is the sluttiest thing you've ever done?" I ordered.

"That's an inappropriate question," she denied me, impressively holding onto her remaining grasp of reality, even as she never moved away from my grasp.

"Right now, Professor Banes," I demanded firmly. "Tell me!"

"I had sex with two senior football players in high school," she revealed, "at the same time," as I pleasured the soles of her foot with my tongue.

"So you're a slut?" I asked.

"Please don't call me names," she said.

"Did you suck both their cocks?" I questioned.

"Yes," she said, ashamed.

"Did they both fuck you?"

"Yes."

"Then you're a slut," I rationalized.

"It was only once," she protested.

"Did you give them that ass of yours?"

"No," she shook her head.

"Have you ever eaten pussy?"

"No."

"But you want to, don't you?" I questioned, as I put her feet down and moved my own feet onto her lap.

"No," she answered.

"Tell me the truth, Professor Banes," I ordered. "You will not lie to me anymore. You must tell the truth. You are incapable of lying."

"Yes," she whispered, her tone dripping with shame... her cheeks burning in humiliation.

"Now you want to suck on my toes, don't you, Professor Banes?" I asked, as I lifted my right foot up to her lips... enjoying watching her succumb to me.

"I... um...." she stammered, under my control but still not completely aware she was.

"Let me rephrase that," I said, "Tell me you want to suck on my nylon toes, my little slut."

She obeyed, now completely under my spell, even as she winced at the term 'slut', "May I please suck on your nylon toes?"

"Of course, Professor Bimbo," I agreed, adding more derogatory terms, "go ahead and suck my toes."

She obeyed, and for a few minutes I just allowed her to suck each of my ten toes. I gave her a few repetitive suggestions as I implanted long term training inside her. "Feet are meant to be worshipped," "Girls' nylon feet make your cunt wet," "Touching nylon legs makes you completely obedient," and "Sucking nylon toes and serving coeds is your purpose in life."

"Caress my sheer nylon-encased legs while you lick my soles, Professor Whore," I ordered, after all ten toes had been thoroughly serviced.

She obeyed.

"Look into my eyes while you service me, Professor Plaything," I instructed, as she licked every inch of each of my soles.

As she did, I explained, "You see, Professor Pet, all you have to do to hypnotize someone is to find a seed, and then before they even know they are falling, they are doing things they never thought they would do."

"Such as licking your feet," she said, in a trance-like state.

"Yes, and these subliminal messages gradually reconstruct your brain until you are nothing more than a submissive slut, willing to obey every command given you," I continued.

"Why me?" she repeated, as she moved her lips up to my ankle.

"I enjoy watching people in power do things they normally wouldn't do," I said.

After another minute, I ordered, as I moved my feet away, "Take off your blouse, Professor Slave."

"You want to see my tits?" she asked, looking surprised. I liked that she called them 'tits' not 'breasts'.

"I do," I nodded, as she unbuttoned her blouse.

Once she removed her blouse, I ordered, "Bra too."

She obeyed.

Once off, I complimented, "That is a nice rack you have, Professor Tits."

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