Nancy's Descent Pt. 02

"Yes..."

"Yes what, baby?"

"Yes, Sir."

"That's a good girl. Let's take this off of you, for now."

He stepped behind her again and pulled her blouse and bra down her arms until they were free, and hung them up in the armoire. Nancy stood still, frozen. When he came back to face her he looked her up and down.

"Nancy, I have to say...you're tits are phenomenal. Not too big, not too small. Nice, pink nipples, symmetrical, soft, smooth skin..." he said. He knew every comment he made about her tits made her more humiliated, which he had programmed to arouse her further. He had given her quite a few triggers for arousal, and it was only one of them.

"You have a nice, flat tummy, too. We'll take a look at that little pussy of yours later on. We'll take it slow. Why don't you come have a seat? I'll be right back with that glass of water."

For the thirty minutes she stayed, Mr. Hoyden did not touch her. He simply sat next to her wear she sat topless on his couch, red with embarrassment and arousal, squirming and biting her lips. They talked. It was mostly small talk, but he asked her about her family, about her past. He asked her what her plans for the future were, and how she planned to get there. In spite of her predicament, she managed to answer his questions both honestly and efficiently. Beyond her lack of clothing and obvious discomfort, it appeared like a normal conversation.

When it was time for her go, Mr. Hoyden dressed her, and she stood passively, and let him.

"I know," he was saying, as he buttoned her blouse up from the bottom," that when you leave here, you'll be wondering what you were thinking, and if all of this really happened. I could tell you it was all a strange dream, and you would believe it, it would become that way for you. But that's not how I want to do things, if I can help it," he had finished buttoning her blouse and he put his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him with her big, green eyes and he looked deep, deep.

"There is nothing wrong with what we are doing. A part of you, deep inside, wants these things. I know it, because it's difficult to sway someone without there being a little something there to begin with. Some motivation, some curiosity. A part of you liked it when I looked at your tits. It made you angry, sure. And that irritation sometimes gets you going, doesn't it? Answer truthfully."

"Yes, it does. Not always. I don't know why."

"We'll discuss why another time. But the fact is, there are unconscious desires and triggers you have that you have never explored. I want to give you a safe place to explore them. Now I'll admit, what I'm doing is also self-serving. I'm a dirty old man, there's no doubt about that. But some part of you wants to be subject to the ministrations of a dirty old man. Isn't that true?"

"Yeah," she said, turning red again.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. I know your submissive tendencies are both dormant and also repulsive to you on some level. I know you want to be a strong, self-sufficient woman. And you can be. And you will be. And I believe that learning to explore this other side of you will help. Telling it to shut up and die will not make it go away. It will only make it cry out for attention more. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Yes, Sir. I think so."

"You'll shake some of this off when you leave. But it won't matter. You'll come back. You will always come back to me. Do you understand me, Nancy?"

He had placed two fingers beneath her chin. She nodded, one of her hands clenching at her side.

"Yes, Sir."

"That's a good girl. Go on, then. I'll see you on Monday. And Nancy?"

"Yes Sir?"

"No more bras, baby. You can wear panties, but no bras. If you try to resist that, I will take corrective action."

Nancy's hands were shaking as she drove home. The time she had spent at Mr. Hoyden's felt a little dreamy, but she remembered all of it. What the fuck had he done to her? And why did she want to go back so badly? Her ears grew hot with fury. Some of the things he'd said were true, and it made her even angrier. Who did he think he was? She was angriest at herself for acting like a drooling, docile pet. He had to have done something to her. She couldn't imagine what. She wanted to go back, needed to go back, but her pride had swollen and was about to burst.

Inside her home, Nancy cried, sitting on the edge of her bed. She wasn't sure why she was crying exactly, but it felt like there was so much pent up anxiety, sadness and anger inside. It was all tumbling out. She felt humiliated by her behavior, angry at herself, angry at that smug man. She wanted to move to another city, another country. How could she ever face him again? She wouldn't.

"Corrective action, my ass," she said through clenched teeth and hot, angry tears.

~

That weekend she met with Sam for lunch. It felt good to have a normal interaction with a man. But all the while, she couldn't get what had happened with Mr. Hoyden out of her head. She felt like she needed to tell someone what happened, but who could she tell? She would seem like a lunatic, not to mention the fact that it was humiliating. It wasn't like she'd been coerced exactly; she had done everything of her own free will. Hadn't she?

Sam came home with her. Her backyard was small, but secluded and the fence was covered in bougainvillea. It was a nice space, and she'd set up some misters along the eaves, so it wasn't too bad outside with the shade and the mist. They sat outside for awhile and drank two glasses of whiskey that Sam had brought. He was smiling at her.

"You know, I know you always seem to think you're way behind on some kind of life schedule, but I certainly wasn't buying a condo or saving money when I was nineteen. I was still living at home working at KFC and overdrawn all the time. I was always borrowing money from my parents and was way in debt from taking out loans from school. And I never even graduated," he said, scoffing.

"Well, didn't seem to matter," Nancy said with a shrug. Sam looked at her.

"Didn't seem to matter?" he asked, confused.

"Well, yeah. You're a manager, you make what, sixty thousand a year? And you're only four years older than me."

"You think being a manger at Sprint is what I want to be doing?"

"Well, what do you want to be doing?" she asked.

Sam laughed. "I don't know. I never knew, why do you think I never graduated? I never figured out what I wanted, I just jumped into college right outta high school because that's what everyone expected me to do. It's not the end of the world that you're not in college, Nancy. At least you know what you want out of your life. You're ahead of a lot of people, there. And for what it's worth, I think you'll be great cognitive psychologist. Whatever the hell that is."

Nancy laughed. "It's a kind of psychologist that investigates how people think. It's about how the brain processes, learns, stores, recognizes, and utilizes information."

Later, Nancy was sitting on the couch with Sam, practically in his lap. They were making out, and she could feel his boner against her thigh. She felt nothing. On Sunday, She fired up her lap top and bit her lip with her hands poised over the keys. She hadn't thought about the few courses she'd taken before her money had run out and she'd had to drop out since she'd taken the job at the call center. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened at Mr. Hoyden's. Why had she responded the way she did? Why did her body respond the way that it did? She had never heard of anything like it except in one way: conditioning.

When she'd been inside of his house, she'd seen the plaque on his wall. It was his NBCCH certification. That was the the National Board for Certified Clinical Hypnotherapists. How had she not realized it before? He had done something to her, had been doing something to her. But could she be deprogrammed? Perhaps, but not without knowing all of the triggers he'd installed. Considering how many weird things she'd been experiencing, there could be dozens... possibly building and building even as she sat looking at the laptop screen.

She spent all morning researching both hypnotherapy and even some alternative ways to program someone. The only conclusion she could come to was to create her own soundtrack, record her own suggestions and set it to some powerful alpha wave frequency. The most important thing was consistency. And to make it consistent, she would have to stay far away from Mr. Hoyden. He had told her she would come back. A part of her new it was true, and she feared it was too late. After all, he was a professional, and she was an amateur at best. She stepped hard on those thoughts. She had to overcome this. She had to. She had to beat him. She had to know she could beat him.

~

On Monday, she knocked on her boss's office door, planning to tell him that she wished to not deliver to Mr. Hoyden anymore, due to harassment. But when he waved her in, he immediately launched into praise. Apparently, Mr. Hoyden had called to rave about his best employee, going above and beyond, telling him he should give her a raise. He chuckled and leaned back in his seat.

"I have to tell you, I don't think I've ever had a customer call and say such fantastic things about one off my delivery drivers. How do you feel about a two dollar raise?"

"Wow, really? I mean, yes! That would be great."

"Good. I'd like you to take on a few extra responsibilities, and be thinking about Customer Service Supervisor. Do well, continue going above and beyond, like with this Mr. Hoyden, and the job is yours."

Nancy thought a moment. She thought Hoyden probably hadn't bet on that. Or the fact that she knew a little about cognitive therapy and had been listening to her own damn suggestions. She could go ahead and try to get out of delivering to Mr. Hoyden, or she could do it a little longer, and become the new Customer Service Supervisor. She wouldn't be making deliveries at all, anymore. But she was afraid if she saw him even one more time, she would fall even deeper. What if he suggested to her something worse than getting undressed in front of him? What if he didn't let her take the new job? What if...

Nancy looked down at her feet. She would tell him the truth, or at least a less insane version. She looked back up at him, prepared to tell him that Mr. Hoyden was a creep and she didn't want to deliver to him anymore, ready to quit her job or be fired if that was necessary, and she found herself smiling.

"I love going to see Mr. Hoyden. He's such a sweet guy."

"That's great, Ms. Rinard. I'm so glad you're making customer connections. I think the CSS job will be perfect for you. Show me your best game, and we'll talk in a month or so about it."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you very much."

Nancy stood in the bathroom at Shoeman's. She was alone. She threw her purse against the wall, and it slammed against the towel dispenser and toppled to the floor.

"Goddammit!" she screamed, and sunk to the floor. The tears came quick, and stopped even quicker. She clenched her jaw, angrier than she'd ever been. It sent a hot surge straight to her pussy, and she felt herself engorge and become wetter by the second.

"Goddammit," she said more quietly. There was no telling how many programs he had running. Clearly, he had made sure she was unable to tell anyone about him. And he had also made sure that her own anger, frustration and embarrassment aroused her. Sick bastard. And he had the nerve to make that little speech before she'd left on Friday, like he was doing some heroic favor to her. So what if she had some submissive fantasies, they were fucking fantasies! They were meant to stay that way. And if they weren't, it wasn't supposed to be like this, it was supposed to be with a cute guy her own age, and she should be in control.

Nancy sighed. She knew on some level that wasn't entirely true. The whole bedrock of such a fantasy was to not be in control. Nothing made sense, anymore. She hated Mr. Hoyden, and at the same time, such a big part of her wanted to find out how far he would take this. How far she would let him. But she didn't know if that was another one of his programs, or if it was really her own curiosity.

She called in sick on Tuesday. If it cost her the raise or the promotion, so be it. She needed to give herself at least until Friday to try to deprogram herself. She had decided to go with something relatively general, seeing as how she didn't have many specifics on what all Mr. Hoyden's suggestions were. The soundtrack she had created was full of subliminal suggestions in her own calm voice, telling her that she was in control, that she was capable of making her own decisions, impervious to the suggestions of others, that her unconscious mind was a steel trap, and many other similar suggestions. She also included that she would only become aroused when being stimulated by someone she was attracted to, and that anger, frustration and embarrassment had no sexual effect on her. The most recurring suggestion was that Mr. Hoyden had no effect on her mind or body. Again and again, she listened to it. She would tell herself again and again, even when she wasn't listening to it: Mr. Hoyden has no effect on my body.

One Wednesday and Thursday, she brought it with her to work and listened when she was driving and on her breaks. Then Friday came. She felt strong and in control. She listened to it all day, only pausing during customer interactions. Then her last delivery came. She sat in the van for almost four minutes, parked across the street from his house. She had come back. What the fuck was she doing here? She was at his door. He answered it.

"Welcome back, Nancy. I missed you on Tuesday. Have you been busy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Have a bundle for me?"

"Yes, Sir." Nancy stood erect with the garment bags in one hand, and closed her eyes when she felt her own pussy juice drip down her thigh.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside for her and taking the garment bags.

Inside, he hung them up in the armoire. He turned back to her without closing it and looked at her.

"Nancy?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"What are you to do, now?"

"Take everything off from the waist up."

"That's right."

"Please, Sir..." Nancy's voice broke, and she had balled her fists so tightly, she could feel her fingernails digging into her palms. Her legs were shaking and she could feel sweat beading on her forehead.

"My, my," Mr. Hoyden murmured, cocking his head. "You are fighting me like your life depends on it. I'm not sure I've ever encountered such determination. I find it...charming. Remove your blouse, baby. We need to talk."

Her hands would not obey her. She was unbuttoning, but her hands were shaking so much it was taking a long time. Mr. Hoyden put his palms up.

"Nancy, stop."

Her hands stopped their movements on the fourth button.

"Let me. You're going to give yourself an aneurism."

He stepped forward shaking his head and finished unbuttoning it, and tsked when he saw her bra.

"What did I tell you about that bra, Nancy?"

"No bras," she said in a small voice she did not recognize.

"And what else?"

Nancy closed her eyes and sucked in her lips. She felt his fingers beneath her chin, and his voice came so soft, so soothing.

"Look at me, Nancy."

She opened her eyes. Mr. Hoyden's eyes seemed to possess her whole. He smiled and stroked her cheek with the other hand.

"Answer me, young lady," he said.

"That you would take corrective action."

"That's right. Now, since this is your first serious offense, and because I like you so much, I will give you a choice. I can either put some rice down on the kitchen floor and have you kneel for forty minutes, or you can lay across my lap for a spanking for twenty. What's it going to be?"

Nancy swallowed. Mr. Hoyden was unhooking her bra now, her ample tits bouncing out of the cups. He slid the straps down her arms with her blouse and removed them completely. He hung them in the armoire, and Nancy stood naked from the waist up in Mr. Hoyden's living room, once again. She didn't want to kneel on rice or get spanked. The kneeling on rice seemed less humiliating, but longer and possibly more painful. The idea of getting spanked over Mr. Hoyden's lap was repugnant, and at once, so arousing she nearly collapsed at the thought.

"Answer now, or you'll get both," he said, and Nancy looked up at him with pleading eyes. Mr. Hoyden could hardly contain his hunger, for a moment.

"The second thing," she mumbled, looking down.

"Nancy, now is a good time to clear something up. When I ask you a question, you will look at me, you will address me as Sir, and you will speak both clearly and submissively. I want your voice audible, and I want it sweet and meek. No mumbling, no attitude. Understood?"

Nancy looked at him. "Yes, Sir."

"Good girl," he purred, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. Nancy shuddered.

"Now, let's try that again. How do you prefer to be punished for your disobedience?"

"A spanking, Sir."

"Very well. Come this way," he said, leading her to a chair. He took a seat, and drew her close by the elbow. She held her hands in front of her, pushing her tits together. Mr. Hoyden admired them for a moment, then gestured to her belt.

"Pants around your ankles, young lady."

"But-"

"No 'buts', Nancy. Pants around your ankles."

"Yes, Sir," she said, miserably.

"Ah, ah. Try again, and lose the attitude," he warned.

"Yes, Sir," she said again, in a lilting voice she hated.

"That's better."

When she had pulled down her pants and stood in nothing but her panties with her pants around her ankles, Mr. Hoyden smiled and nodded, before patting his lap.

"Over you go, Nancy."

She felt immensely childish and awkward bending over and situating herself in his lap. When her palms were on the floor, and her legs pedaled behind her uncertainly, Mr. Hoyden patted the outside of her thigh for a moment.

"Good," he said, hooking his fingers beneath her panties.

"B-Sir, I-"

"Do you want to make this a thirty minute spanking?"

"No, Sir."

"Then quit fussing and take your spanking like a good girl."

"Yes, Sir."

Nancy felt him pull her panties free, exposing her ass, until they were around her knees. Her legs trembled and her heart was pounding. His palm stroked the backs of her thighs and ass for a few moments.

"Calm down, Nancy. You're not about to have a heart transplant. It's a spanking. Just breathe," he said, continuing to stroke her skin. She did calm down. She still felt more sober than she'd ever felt in her life, and time seemed to stop, and her pussy was throbbing. But her heart slowed enough that she no longer felt on the verge of passing out.

"Good," he said, giving each cheek a pat.

"Are you ready, now?"

"Yes-"she gulped," Yes, Sir."

"Alright. Now listen to me, Nancy. Your palms are to remain flat on the floor. Your head stays down. Your legs do not come up. Do not try to cover your bottom, Nancy. Do not wiggle and writhe, I want you still. If you wiggle, if your palms comes up, if your head comes up, if your legs tense or you kick, I will start the spanking over. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good girl."

Nancy gasped when he began. They came in quick succession, and his patterns were irregular. Sometimes he spent nearly a minute spanking one side, sometimes he would go back and forth, sometimes he would move down to the backs of her thighs. That was the hardest to stay still for, it stung so much. She had to cry out, in order to not move or try to stop him. It was the only way to express what she was experiencing. It seemed to go on and on, and he had to start the spanking over three times. The third time he had to pause and tell her he would have to start over again, she began to cry. By the time the spanking finally ended, she was sobbing like a child, completely limp across his knees, and her ass and thighs were bright red. He stroked her softly, soothing her stinging skin.