The True Professional Pt. 01

This introduction is a little on the long side and possibly not quite as explicit as you might like, but it serves to set the scene for fireworks later on. Parts two and three are in the final editing stages. A fourth and concluding episode is still bouncing around in my head. Let me know what you think, please.

*****

For as long as anyone could remember Cindy McCarthy had been the best science student in the city. She'd won every single science fair she had entered from third grade through her senior year in high school. That was nine, count 'em, nine straight victories. It had gotten to the point where many of the better science students had just given up entering the fairs. From fifth grade on through middle school each year Cindy's class had just slightly more than half of the participants in the science fair as the classes before and after hers. The teachers called it the "McCarthy Effect." When she arrived at the high school the pattern repeated itself. The science department collectively breathed a sigh of relief when, at graduation Cindy accepted not only her diploma, but every prize and science award that her school had to offer. Things could get back to normal now.

Cindy, for her part, knew exactly what was going on and how everybody felt about her dominance. She was, after all, very smart. It bothered her, but not enough to make her ease up on the throttle. She thrived on competition, no, she thrived on victory, and after her graduation summer she headed east to attend Wellesley, fully expecting to dominate the competition there as well. Her major would be psychology, abnormal psychology.

Cindy was fascinated with criminal behavior. Accordingly, she planned to work in the criminal justice field after graduation which, hard to believe, was in a mere two months. After six years of study, Wellesley was about to award her a PhD. Cindy understood a great deal about abnormal psychology and her graduate thesis proposed that using hypnosis, criminal behavior could be ameliorated. It was a radical proposal, but she was convinced that hypnosis was the way to reduce recidivism in criminals.

Cindy's first genuine encounter with hypnosis had come two years earlier and almost by accident when she and some of her girlfriends from Wellesley had attended a hypnotist's stage show at a night club in Boston. She had known the basics about hypnotic suggestion, but hypnosis was not part of her core curriculum. Hypnotism floated out around the edges of mainstream psychology mostly because it was not very well understood, scientifically at least. Hypnotism was real though, and she had gone to the stage show exceedingly skeptical about the brand of hypnotism that was used for public consumption and entertainment. She had always suspected that kind of hypnosis, movie hypnosis she called it, was largely a hoax and that the participants from the audience had to have been "plants" strategically placed there in advance by the "hypnotist."

After a couple of drinks at the bar, the twenty-something coeds arrived at their table and took their seats. The show proceeded as expected with several audience participants doing supposedly uncharacteristic things, mostly embarrassing. The performer would call his subjects up to the stage, whisper something in their ear, and then place them into a trance-like state before getting them to do everything from "cook dinner" to acting like farm animals.

Then when the hypnotist announced the "R-rated" portion of the show he explained that he would be asking his subjects to "push the envelope a bit-" meaning that there would be a certain sexual overtone to the upcoming stage antics. He assured the audience that nobody would be harmed, but indicated that it would be best if the next participant were more "free spirited." He asked for a volunteer.

Cindy, who was working on her fourth mixed drink, raised her hand. Immediately her girlfriends squealed and grabbed her arm, trying to un-volunteer their friend. Cindy responded by standing up. Immediately two "follow spots" converged on the attractive young graduate student. "The Amazing Randy" took one look at the volunteer, bathed in brilliant backlighting and announced to the crowd: "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a winner!" The crowd applauded and Cindy made her way through the tightly packed tables to the stage.

The Wellesley women were no longer teen-aged undergraduates but young soon-to-be professionals. Realizing this it was understood that they would "dress up" for their nights on the town. This was for two reasons. First, they were young, attractive singles and they were not interested in getting hit on by a bunch of undergraduate boys or worse. Their attire, make-up, and jewelry would help keep the youngsters at bay. On the other hand, they were young, attractive singles and they were always on the look-out for their male counterparts, both in looks and in station. Tonight, the pickings had been slim. They were on their own.

Cindy would stand out in any crowd, but on stage, bathed in stage light, standing next to The Amazing Randy, she was by far the more amazing of the two, at least as far as appearance went. Randy took her by the arm, maneuvering her towards the center of the stage. He asked the beauty her name. What did she do? What was her major in college? Cindy answered each briefly, suddenly conscious of where she was and what she had gotten herself into. She confided that she had come to the show skeptical, professionally skeptical, but curious. Randy then said "Let me reassure you Cindy. This is an R-rated show. That means NO NUDITY, he said with mock emphasis. It's written into my contract that I will not ask any participants to remove clothing and that I will immediately recall any subject who tries to do it. A single word and one snap of the fingers and any exhibitionists are back on stage as themselves. It is common knowledge, he said, that hypnotized subjects cannot be made to do things which they find morally objectionable." He paused for effect. "But, judging from the cut on that skirt it looks like we're going to have a LOT of room to operate. The audience roared in laughter and clapped. The Amazing Randy turned back to his subject. Well, Cindy, are you ready?

Cindy took a deep breath and said "yes."

The Amazing Randy and Cindy stood facing each other in profile to the audience. The tuxedo clad performer produced a small blinking light, hardly bigger than a pocket flashlight and instructed the attentive woman to keep her eyes on the blinking light as he held his left arm towards the audience. Cindy dutifully focused on the light while the Amazing Randy leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Cindy, you are already subject to my will. When I snap my fingers you will return to the present in this room. However, you will retain this command until I specifically say 'I release you Cindy.' Tomorrow, you will meet me by the stage door at exactly noon."

As he leaned back from his subject, mugging for the audience he slowly said, "My, my, Cindy you are a difficult subject. I'm not sure that this will work out, you being a pro-FESH-ih-null and all." He finished with a comedic "wink-wink" to the audience, indicating that the show was about to begin.

This was not The Amazing Randy's first rodeo. He was the real pro-FESH-ih-null on the stage. He had spotted Cindy when she first entered the club two hours ago. Hanging by the bar in his street clothes, The Amazing Randy looked like dozens of other men already in the nightclub. He had his real hair color, but a false moustache. When Cindy moved towards the coat room to check her coat, he followed her into the dark space of the corridor. Reaching from behind, he put his hand on her shoulder. Before she could turn around he was at her ear instructing her. "You will volunteer tonight at the start of the second act." That was it. She was under.

This was not The Amazing Randy's first rodeo.

He said, "Excuse me, madam. You stopped kind of suddenly," and moved on to the men's room. Cindy checked her coat and went back to her friends.

The Amazing Randy began to make small talk with Cindy who showed no outward signs of being hypnotized. "I notice, Cindy, you have come here tonight with a small group of friends from school. Why don't you ladies stand up and take a bow. Cindy's friends stood up and duly took their five seconds of fame. It was clear to every man and woman in the place that the one on the stage was the pick of the litter. The culls sat down and The Amazing Randy, microphone in hand said, "No dates tonight, eh Cindy?" Cindy blushed and nodded.

"Girls night out," she said into the extended microphone. At that point a stage hand came on stage from the wings and quickly attached a small wireless microphone headset to Cindy's head, careful to disturb her long, blonde hair which extended half-way down her back. In a moment he was back off stage. Meanwhile, The Amazing Randy slowly stepped to the other end of the stage.

"Can you hear me, Cindy?"

"Yes," her amplified voice replied.

"That's fine, Cindy," the Amazing Randy said.

The show proceeded in a rather mundane and predictable way. The Amazing Randy persuaded his attractive subject to unbutton all but the final button of her form-fitting white linen blouse by suggesting that the stage, already warm from the spotlights, had become unbearably hot. Cindy fumbled with each button as she franticly fanned herself with an imaginary fan. It was standard fare- titillating, just a little naughty, more PG than R-rated.

Then The Amazing Randy, sensing that the audience was primed for the knockout blow, turned to his willing subject and suggested that it was time to go shopping. He set the scene. They were in Central Square in Cambridge standing outside a local fetish shop. First he commanded her to re-button her blouse. Then he suggested that she might want to go into the shop to browse around and maybe make a discrete purchase or two. Cindy nodded her head in agreement. Once into the imaginary store, The Amazing Randy assumed the role of the shopkeeper while Cindy fidgeted, obviously moving from display to display eyeing the imaginary merchandise. She stopped and looked down, as if into a display case. "What may I show you, madam, asked The Amazing Randy? What would you like to see?"

"The dildos," Cindy meekly replied. The crowd roared with laughter.

"I'm sorry?" feigned The Amazing Randy as if he were hard of hearing.

"The dildos," Cindy said, this time loud enough for everyone to hear above the laughter.

"I'm sorry?" The Amazing Randy repeated.

"The DILDOS" Cindy said in a voice just shy of yelling. The crowd was howling, including her two girlfriends.

The Amazing Randy allowed the crowd to simmer down a bit and then delivered the punchline. "Oh," he said, I heard you the first time. I'm just sorry." More laughter rose from the audience, which by now needed to pause to catch its collective breath. He had the crowd as well as Cindy completely within his grasp. The hypnotist motioned to Cindy to come and look at an imaginary wall display. "These are some of our newest bustiers and fetish clothing arrivals. Our dressing room is being remodeled currently, but I would be happy to take some of these down for you to try in front of that mirror over there." He motioned to the front of the stage as he pretended to remove something from the display. "We may have this in your size. What size do you wear in a bustier?"

"Women's medium." The audience, having recharged laughed again.

"Cup size?"

"C or sometimes D," she replied, "but in something like this I usually get the smaller cup. It makes my boobs sort of push up and out."

"A wise choice," agreed the Amazing Randy, casting a lecherous look at the audience. They were doubled over, screaming in laughter.

The show continued for another ten minutes while Cindy went on her fetish shopping spree and the audience accompanied her, led by The Amazing Randy, the true professional.

After "paying" for several newly purchased items, Cindy hefted her imaginary load of fetish wear and toys and made for the door, which The Amazing Randy pretended to hold for her. "Thank you, Madam," said the hypnotist. "Please come back again soon." As soon as the word 'soon' had passed his lips he raised his right arm and with a single loud "snap" from his right thumb and middle finger Cindy was out of her trance standing in the spotlight looking very confused. "And I hope that you will return soon as well," he said to the audience as he bowed to a standing ovation. As the crowd filed out, The Amazing Randy retired to his dressing room, poured himself a well-earned drink, and removed his make-up.

Meanwhile Cindy and her two friends left the club and went outside to hail a cab. "Well?" asked Cindy. "Well?" she demanded. "What happened? Was I under? Did I do anything stupid? Did he make me quack like a duck or what?"

Her friends giggled and then spilled the beans, telling Cindy everything. Her face went white as her blouse before turning multiple crimson shades as she heard all about her trip to the fetish shop.

"You're kidding me you guys; I actually yelled the word 'dildo,'" she asked incredulously. Her friends nodded.

"He got you to announce your bra and cup size to the whole room too," one of her friends said. "Do you by any chance own any leather bustiers, Cin? You must because you and The Amazing Randy had quite a conversation while you were in the fetish shop and you gave everyone in the joint the distinct impression that you had 'Been there, done that, and got the bustier to prove it,' if you get my drift."

"I most certainly do not have any leather bustiers," Cynthia asserted. Lace, on the other hand, is another matter, she thought to herself.

"Uh huh," her two friends replied virtually in unison while nodding their heads in mock agreement. Clearly they weren't buying the "I don't have any" argument.

Cynthia was the first to be dropped off at her apartment. She had paid for the trip into the city so it was up to her friends to clear the bill for the ride home. She walked up the front stairs, inserted her key, and opened the door. It had been a long night, even though she had missed a large part of it while serving as the entertainment. As she stood in front of her bathroom mirror and unbuttoned her top for removal she stopped to admire herself. She knew that others had gotten a glimpse of her bosom, but only a glimpse, her friends had assured her. Cynthia had lately come into the habit of sleeping in her panties, so once she had removed her bra, she was ready to slip under the covers. Once supine, the blonde graduate student was free to let her mind wander. Of course she had a dildo. Everyone did. Likewise she had a small collection of bustiers, although none of them were leather. Some she had received from male admirers hoping to see her wearing the flimsy, but rigid garment. A couple she had bought for herself over the internet. For heaven's sake, she was twenty-seven years old- at the peak of her intellectual and feminine power. She had the right to show it to selected, and very lucky, male friends.

As she lay there in bed, her hand slipped down underneath the cotton waistband of her Fruit of the Looms. She was wet; no, she was soaked. The blonde student rolled over and pulled the side table drawer open. She reached into the drawer and brushing the small and completely unnecessary bottle of lubricant aside, removed her dildo which doubled as a vibrator as well. It was eight inches and thick, covered with a supple material that had the feel of rigid jelly, very life-like. Cindy's mind wandered off as she remembered one encounter with this lover and then another with the next until she fixed on a law student she had dated earlier that year. After a few dates she had come to realize that he was a bit of a jerk, much too full of himself, but he had been way above average in bed and his penis was way, way above average. As the lanky blonde lay there, she grasped the dildo by the handle and began to move it under her panties. Cindy twisted the end and the dildo began to vibrate at its lowest speed, buzzing with a low rumble. Cindy applied the tip gently against her clit and drifted into a dream-like state. It felt so good- the combination of the life-like feel of the material and the slow rumble of the vibration. She arched her back and with her free hand she slipped her panties down her thighs just below her knees. Working her knees back and forth, she eased the cotton undergarment down her calves until, using her feet, they were off completely.

She spread her legs far apart, lifting her knees into the missionary position. With her free hand she began massaging her left breast which had flattened slightly against her chest. There was plenty of breast to rub. She cupped her tit into a cone and squeezed gently as a thoughtful lover might while she maneuvered the dildo for entry into her pussy. She allowed her hand to slide up her breast until she could squeeze her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. At first she touched the erect nub gently, but then her imaginary lover began to fade from her reverie and, like many times before, his twenty-something face was replaced by the older, more rugged face of one of the inmates she had interviewed at the local prison, a serial sex offender who had both raped and beaten his victims. She knew that she was returning to her favorite fantasy, the one in which she was a victim and not a lover.

Her gentle tweaking turned to a strong pinch as her nipple responded to her new fantasy by sending a sharp and painful jolt to her brain. As pleasure competed with pain, she jammed the dildo into her pussy. There was no pain; her lubrication coupled with the gel coating allowed total penetration. She pulled the mucus-covered phallus out of her pussy and switched the vibrator off before re-inserting it into her soaked sex. In, out, in, out, Cindy used the dildo roughly on herself. Her left hand grabbed her breast as she dug her fingernails into the soft white flesh sending a clear pain message to her brain. By the time it arrived it had turned to pleasure, rough pleasure. The blonde graduate student was gripped by her favorite fantasy. She imagined herself helpless, held down by rough hands while she increased the pace with the dildo. She arched her back and matched the rough intrusion by thrusting her hips to meet the massive artificial cock which was completely buried in her sex. "No, don't," she moaned out loud. "Please don't hurt me," she begged her imaginary partner. Cindy flopped side to side all the while jamming the dildo into her sex until her orgasm exploded and her body rose into the air as if launched by the bed itself. She returned to the mattress and just lay there, shuddering from aftershocks of pleasure. About a minute passed before she slowly removed the artificial invader. As the tip withdrew, a final wave of pleasure swept over the satisfied beauty. In five minutes she was fast asleep.

The next day was Sunday. Cindy had no particular plans, or so she thought, but as she took a long warm soapy shower, she began to think that she'd go back into Boston and maybe do a little window shopping and have a quiet lunch at one of the outdoor restaurants in the Back Bay, not far from the club where she had been the night before. It was going to be a beautiful spring day, slightly warmer than usual, the kind of day which brings out the long-stored good weather clothes. As she went through her closet, she thought again about the bustiers in her lingerie drawer and before she knew it had chosen a black one which she particularly liked to wear under another white linen blouse. She was partial to tight-fitting white linen blouses. They flattered her and with the naughty black undergarment, clearly revealed by three opened buttons down from the neckline, she knew that she would be turning heads as she walked down Newbury Street.