tagMind ControlThe Hypnotist’s Assistants

The Hypnotist’s Assistants


(C) Copyright 2007 by frog, all rights reserved, except those as follows. Permission is granted to download, archive, and repost provided that the contents are not altered, including the disclaimers, copyrights and limitations on use and provided that no fee is charged for access. This story is erotic fiction intended for adult entertainment. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse the behavior described in this story. All persons and events in this story are completely fictitious and ANY similarity to persons living or dead or to actual events is purely coincidental.

Note to the reader:

I suppose every writer of erotic fiction creates a mind-control story sooner or later, so here is my contribution to that very large body of work. This story requires the reader to suspend reality for a moment and believe in the fantastic superpower of hypnosis to create illusions, misperceptions, mental blocks, and uninhibited actions. Readers should not write and inform me that this is not how hypnosis really works. Fiction, by definition, is not reality. So, please just go with the premise and simply enjoy the juicy story. Yours, frog.

Chapter 1

Ken Smith unconsciously rearranged the carefully sharpened pencils in the gray tray in his desk drawer as he eyed all three clocks in his office. Each read precisely 4:45 p.m.

A consummate creature of habit, Ken did everything according to established routine. A long career in the military had convinced him that a methodical life was the best life. Now, as Director of Security for a large corporation, his orderly style of living served Ken well. Those whom he supervised knew that they could set their watches according to his meticulous weekly schedule.

Today was Friday and 4:45 p.m. meant that it was time for him to inspect the Corporation's main video security station in the building's basement and double check personnel schedules for the coming weekend. By 5:30 p.m. he would be back in his office with ample time to clear his already spotless desk and meet his wife, Beth, for dinner. At 6:00 p.m. Beth would arrive at his office. By 6:15 the couple would be on their way to Chez Fred's Restaurant, as was their practice every Friday evening.

Moments later, Ken stepped out of the elevator, straightened his tie, slid his identification card through a nondescript slot, typed his security code on the key pad, and entered the nerve center for corporate security, his pride and joy, the video room. A slight smile crept across his face as he witnessed his technicians dutifully attending to a huge wall filled with flickering televisions, each monitoring a room or hallway somewhere in the massive office building.

"Hey, boss," greeted a young uniformed man on duty. "Welcome to another quiet Friday."

"That's the way we like 'em, Bobby," Ken answered. "Nice and quiet."

Bobby glanced at the institutional black and white clock on the far wall that stood in stark contrast to all the multi-colored screens.

Seven minutes until Five O'clock, Bobby noted, on the dot…always…the amazing Mr. Smith…runs like clockwork.

Ken's eyes proudly scanned the array of displays. He had designed the system from the ground up and it was at technology's cutting edge. Just then a beeping alarm sounded indicating an entry into their CEO's plush office, one of the areas of tightest security in the building. Images from the three cameras in that office suite automatically appeared on the large main screens.

The visitor was none other than Carmen Schafer, the CEO's lovely wife.

"Hellooooo, Mrs. Schafer! You and your tits are looking good tonight," muttered Bobby as he viewed the intensely sexy Carmen Schafer in living HDTV. "Mmm, Mmm. Maybe some day when I am chief exec of a big-mother company like this one, I'll get me a wife like that."

Chuckles and snide comments to the contrary broke out among the other technicians.

"Alright, alright, so maybe I won't…you have to admit that she is some kind of fine looking woman!" Bobby continued. "I'll bet if you look in the dictionary under 'trophy wife,' there's a picture of her there…big old titties and all."

Decorum forbad Ken Smith to respond, but privately he heartily agreed with Bobby. Carmen Schafer looked and moved like a runway model…long, lean, gorgeous, self-assured…and she was completely aware of both her beauty and her power. Ken's cock twitched every time he saw her. Today she wore a fashionable little black dress, tight and short, with a neckline that plunged just enough to reveal the upper curvature of her tanned full breasts. The perfunctory string of pearls dangling to just the right spot in her cleavage completed her outfit. Obviously, the Schafers were going out somewhere fancy tonight.

All eyes in the video room watched as Carmen sauntered into her husband's office, met him in front of his desk, kissed him hungrily, and immediately began to fondle his crotch. Marlin Schafer pulled away instantly and pointed a finger toward the video surveillance camera. Normally Mr. Schafer was a serious and determined man who did not smile often. Now he was grinning from ear to ear.

God, I wish my wife would do that, thought Ken. If Beth would grab my cock just once without my asking, I would be a happy man.

"I'll bet she can suck the chrome off a trailer hitch," mused Bobby quietly.

The image of Carmen Schafer on her knees hungrily servicing her husband's rigid tool rushed into Ken's fertile imagination. His fantasies always were extraordinarily vivid, so vivid that he had to be careful about when he concentrated on such things. For an instant though, he allowed his mind to slip into his little fantasy world. He could almost smell the sex as Carmen devoured a long, purple veined cock in his imagination.

Bobby's continuing commentary jolted Ken back to attention.

"It's her lips…those thick, puffy lips…check 'em out…Mmm, Mmm…yes, siree, just like the ones on Angelina Jolie!" whistled Bobby. He had taken manual control of one of the cameras and had zoomed in on Carmen's face.

What I wouldn't give to have Carmen Schafer run those full red lips up and down and all around on my dick, dreamed Ken. His cock obviously agreed. It began to strain against his trousers.

After being rebuffed by her husband, Carmen shot a dagger-filled look at the camera and pouted. Then a sinister smile crept across her face. Suddenly, she turned her back to the offending camera, bent slightly at the waist, and, in a gesture of obvious defiance, flipped up the tail of her dress. Eyes all around the video room widened as Carmen's gloriously round ass barely covered with shiny tiny black bikini panties flashed into view.

Her husband's smile disappeared at once and, although no sound accompanied the visual images, his message of disapproval was very clear. Still pouting, Carmen flounced out of the room with husband Marlin, briefcase in hand, chasing after her. At the last possible instant, she flashed a big smile back directly at the camera and winked.

Cheers broke out in Ken's normally staid security room and a couple of technicians even gave each other big high-five hand slaps.

Brazen, Ken thought, Carmen Schafer defines brazen…and I love it…God, if Beth would only be half as bold...the mind boggles.

Ken checked the schedule clip board, signed it with a flourish, turned on his heels, and quickly left the room, all the while hoping that his erection would subside before he met his wife upstairs.

Couldn't I just as easily have married a woman like Carmen instead of Beth? Ken wondered. That thought made his cock tingle once again.


Promptly at 6:00 p.m., Beth Smith strolled into Ken's office. Ken's erection was gone, but his general horniness was not. He gave his wife a lingering lustful once over from head to toe.

Beth was beautiful in her own way—a way very unlike Carmen Schafer. Beth certainly had a look of affluence…stylish gray flannel suit with Laura Ashley blouse, shoulder length hair classically cut, tasteful yet clearly expensive jewelry…the total look of a well-heeled, conservative woman. Ken admired her healthy glow and warm smile. She certainly was not the buxom movie-star type like Carmen, but when she walked into a room she didn't go unnoticed by the men or the women. Best of all, she had maintained her willowy collegiate figure over the years by working out, a daily habit she developed while Ken was in the military.

During those early years of their marriage, military housewife boredom set in with Beth quickly and profoundly. As a result, she had become interested first in meditation groups, then exercise, and then religion. She filled her days back then with everything from Garden Clubs to Bible Study to Yoga. She always was amazed that exercising both mind and body could be relaxing and stimulating at the same time.

"What?" asked Beth, fearing that an unwanted spot on her dress or something similar had drawn so much of Ken's direct attention to her body.

"I was just checking out my sexy wife and her sexy outfit," purred Ken.

"Oh, I'm not sexy…not any more at least, you silly man. And, I've had this dress for ages. You have seen it a million times." Beth grinned broadly.

"I was thinking about what is under it," sighed Ken.

"Oh, don't be gross…we are about to go to dinner, for goodness sake."

Beth rolled her eyes in an effort to end both this line of conversation and its implications, but then condescended and gave Ken a quick kiss on the lips. Ken answered by sliding his hand up from her slim waist to one of her smallish, firm breasts.

"Ke-yun! Keep those wandering hands to yourself. What if someone walked in here? You have an important image to uphold. Now, let's go to dinner. The folks at Chez Fred's are probably wondering where we are already."

"Yes, dear," sighed Ken.

Maybe in return for all this attention, risqué touching and sexual hints, Ken mused, she at least will give me a little nookie tonight…maybe. The thought of that sent the pangs of arousal though his cock once again, but reality suddenly reared an ugly head.

Unfortunately, he realized, it will be just like always…same old tired routine…well, I guess that's better than no sex at all.

Ken's mind began to wander away again to his fantasy world as he observed his and Beth's surreal reflections in the shiny brass elevator door on their way down to the lobby. Soon his mind was filled with a vivid reenactment of their methodical, orderly lovemaking.

…kiss a little…feel Beth up some…sexy little titties, she has…maybe kiss one of her nice firm nipples…grab the KY Jelly…rub it on myself…kiss a little more…climb on top…wham bam…get my jollies…Beth runs to the john…cleans herself up…brings me a warm bath cloth…I scrub up…by the time I'm done, she's dressed in PJ's…we kiss, profess our eternal love to each other…in a few seconds we're both go to sleep. Same old, same old!

The ding of the elevator shook him from his gripping, yet depressing daydream.

Later Ken pulled his black BMW into the flow of traffic outside his building. Chez Fred's was across town, but usually by this time on Fridays the traffic was beginning to thin. The darkening twilight sky gave all the downtown buildings a ghostly glow of similarity. Ken barely noticed the endless stream of now unlit windows hiding whatever secrets were inside.

Ken came to the stop light at the turn off to Chez Fred's. Without any hint of alarm, he felt himself slipping into another of his daydreams. Suddenly he realized that Beth was speaking to him in a stern voice.

"Ken, what are you doing? You turned the wrong way at the light! Now we're going the wrong direction! Chez Fred's is back that way, remember?" Beth pointed back over her shoulder with a look of grave concern and confusion.

Ken looked around frantically. The shadowy buildings all seemed strange and out of place, yet somehow familiar. It was just like one of those frightening realizations a person gets when lost in thought while driving and suddenly recognizing that the last few miles of road is absent from memory.

"Damn! How did I manage to do that? Sorry, baby. I guess I wasn't paying attention…been a long week…I spaced out, I guess. No problem, though. I'll get us back on the right track as soon as I find a place to get turned around."

"Well, do it quickly. This is not a good part of town to be in…obviously!"

Ken agreed. As he searched for a turning point, the neighborhood seemed to grow darker and the buildings shabbier. Only very murky, forbidding alleys branched off the main street. The further they went, the more threatening the surroundings became.

"Of all times," moaned Beth in obvious frustration, "as if going this way was not bad enough…now I have to pee in the worst way. We need to get to the restaurant quickly before I pee my pants!"

"Jeez, Beth, what a time for that."

Beth gave Ken her angry, hurt, and defensive looks all at once. Her tiny bladder had a long history in their marriage.

"I can't help it. I can't remember ever having to go this badly before either. God, I can't believe I am saying this, but…if you see a public toilet anywhere, stop…please."

"In this part of town! A toilet? I'll be surprised if there is running water here." Now Ken was really flustered. "Can't you just hold it?"

"No. Anyway, I have a vague memory of a gas station around here somewhere…"

As absurd a notion as that seemed, Ken felt the same way—a sort of weird déjà vu. He was certain that he had never been this way before, yet it seemed somehow familiar.

"Look!" shouted Beth. She pointed toward a dilapidated looking service station nestled in the ground floor of a larger building. "Pull over!"

Ken wheeled through the intersection and brought their sleek car to a screeching stop. Under a big, dirty sign that read "Clean Rest Rooms" hung a smaller hand-written note on which was scrawled "Out of Order!"

"Shit," screamed Beth.

Ken knew immediately that Beth now was really upset. She rarely ever uttered a profane word of any kind except in the direst of situations.

"Hang on, baby…we'll find someplace else," reassured Ken.

Next door to the service station was a vacant lot that obviously had been transformed into a makeshift parking lot. Surprisingly it was filled with cars, except for one spot in the front row. A rough looking attendant wearing a very dirty tee shirt emblazoned with a large yellow smiley-face motioned them toward the empty space. His own broad smile that in a strange way mirrored his tee shirt was filled with tangled, brown teeth.

Ken craned his neck to see the surroundings.

Near the parking lot a brightly lit marquee flashed, Klub Kasbah! Neon no longer illuminated the last two letters, but the name nevertheless was clear.

An old-fashioned sandwich board sign at the street's edge advertised in bold letters, "Hypnotist appearing nightly! Air Conditioned. Rest Rooms." Everything about the place was scruffy, tattered, and ancient—yet, a large group of well-dressed people seemed to be gathering on the street and inside the lobby.

"This place looks pretty strange, but the people are well turned-out…maybe you can go to the bathroom in there." Ken pointed at the sign and wheeled quickly into the last remaining parking place.

"Well, ok…the toilets probably will be gross," said Beth, "but there is no way that I can wait any longer. I'll just pee as quickly as possible and then we're off to Chez Fred's. Ok?"

Beth and Ken made their way, along with several other patrons, into the antiquated nightclub. The lobby reeked of centuries old beer and very new disinfectant. Its walls were covered with red-flocked wallpaper swathed in vague memories of fleur-de-li and paisley. Well-trodden carpet matching the wallpaper led past a small ticket counter.

A grizzled old man who seemed to be from the same vintage as the lobby's decorator manned the ticket booth. Ken pushed his way to the front of the line.

"Ah…sir…we're not staying for the show…we just would appreciate the use of your bathrooms, if you don't mind," said Ken.

"Suit yourself," the old man coughed through a dark cloud of cigarette smoke. Phlegm seemed to hinder his ever word. "The johns are back there to the left."

Beth scurried to the door that would have been marked "Ladies," except the "L" had fallen off long ago leaving only an absence of varnish to form the letter. Ken reasoned that as long as he was here, he might as well use the facilities too. He entered the door marked "Gents" and stepped up to an ancient trough-style urinal along side another man.

"Ever seen the show here before?" the man said.

"Nope," replied Ken.

"I hear it is sensational," replied the man. "A bunch of guys at my office have seen it, said it was the damnedest thing you will ever witness…practically forced me to come, they did."


"Yeah, my buddy says it is about the hottest show and scarcest ticket in town…hard to believe in such a fucked up neighborhood, huh?"

"Yeah. Hot ticket, huh. Why is that?"

"Word is that the hypnotist in the show has people doing all sorts of stuff…weird, kinky stuff. They say ordinary people get naked and everything. A guy at work told me that the hypnotist actually got a woman to suck a fellow off right there on stage in front of everyone…and…she didn't remember a thing when she came too. I also heard that some nights there is actual fucking going on…right there on stage."

The man gave his dick a few shakes and zipped his pants.

"Is that so?" muttered Ken.

"That's what I heard…"

The man hurried over to an antiquated lavatory and began to wash his hands. Ken stood dumbfounded. His feeling of super horniness had returned.

"Regular people naked? Fucking and sucking in public? Not knowing anything afterward? That's very hard to believe," Ken said to the man.

"We'll see in a few minutes, won't we? I can't wait. If nothing else, maybe it will make my wife hot-to-go, you know…ready to experiment a little tonight after we get home…heh, heh."

The man scurried out the door.

Ken quickly followed and stepped up to the now idle old man in the ticket window.

"Any seats left?"

"Nope," said the old man. A round of profound coughing followed his curt reply.

Just then Beth joined Ken at the booth.

"Funny…someone we know must have the same wall paper as the bathroom here, but I can't seem to recall who. I know I have seen it somewhere before…"

"You like red wallpaper?" said the man.

Beth blinked as if something had flown in her eye and then she became very quiet.

"Wait a minute," coughed the old man as he shuffled through several envelopes. "Looks like I got two seats left after all. Want 'em."

"How much?"

The old man lit another cigarette and a great cloud of smoke became suspended around the three of them.

"That's 50 buckaroos…each, drinks not included," the voice in the smoke replied.

At the sound of the old man's words, Ken felt a peculiar twinge. He looked at Beth and felt his cock beginning to harden. With one hand, she had taken Ken's elbow. Her other hand strolled gently, sexily up and down Ken's back.

"A hundred dollars? For a show?" gasped Ken. "Forget it."

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