When You Really Trust the Tape

The candle was lit, and Mara was in her bed, just as she'd planned. When she'd asked Michael to help her, being her most trusted friend, he hadn't known how surreal the whole experience would have been. He'd thought it was just going to be an awkward, undoable situation where she would never be able to relax and he would never be able to un-focus on what she was doing, but here they were. The recording had begun to play, and Mara was laying peacefully, her eyes closed, breathing as evenly as her beating heart would let her.

The lighting was soft and very dim - a few candles burned away from the bed, but that was it. Having asked Michael to help her with her session, Mara had been able to light them, knowing he'd be there to make sure they didn't burn anything. Mara, 23 and a gorgeous, tall, thin young woman with a shock of short straight brown hair and gleaming blue eyes, had been harbouring a hypnotism fetish for all her adult life, and Michael, her long time best friend, cute, attractive, tall, muscular, and gay as a whistle, had only found out about it a few years ago. Since then, he'd known but been unable or unwilling to help her with her endeavours into the world of mind control.

At first, it had been fine - she'd look at a few photos or read a few stories and get off easily that way. Then the desire to have it done to her dug deeper and she began to find videos of other women being put under. Then, when they stopped bringing her over the edge, she began personal hypnosis, but she had never been able to let go. She was nervous and timid as it was, and exploring her kink - especially one to do with her mind - frightened her too much.

This was perhaps the tenth time she'd begged him to help her, and he'd finally given in. She told him all about the safety measures - it had a timer by way of the file length, plus an alarm at the end, no triggers, no implants, and was read by a well-renowned woman in the hypnosis world, someone neither of them could possibly end up attracted to if there were any secrets hidden inside, by virtue of Mara being straight and Michael being gay. And so, he'd come around. Now, here he sat, at her desk, a candle beside him, as the gentle swaying rhythm of the seemingly melody-less track floated softly from the speakers by her bed. Mara had told him to leave his phone outside, since any light or noise while she was trying to focus might take her out of it, so he glanced around the room and concentrated on forcing himself not to fidget with anything while he waited for her trance to finish.

He had gone off on a thought-tangent about nothing in particular when he realised that a voice had begun to breathe just above the song. It was a woman's voice, deep and breathy and soft, spoken quietly but close to a quality microphone so that her words were still clear when spoken as she was now. With some surprise, Michael realised he hadn't noticed when she'd begun to speak.

'... Moving up your body, slowly unwinding the knots and tensions in your thighs, slowly releasing the pent up energies inside the muscles there. That's good, you're doing so well, so very well. Now go on to your hips, letting all the tiny muscles there relax and unwind, undoing all the stresses your busy life has put into them recently. Good, good. Yes, let them all float away, leaving you still and light as a feather. That's so good, so very good. On now to your stomach, feeling those tight knots begin to untie one by one, and it feels so good to relax these muscles so deeply and completely, doesn't it? Yes, it does. You can take my word for it, because I speak to help you relax, and you relax by listening to my voice, and by letting all those kinks out one by one...' God, Michael thought as he listened to her speak, she drivels a lot for a hypnotist. I thought it was supposed to be, "10, 9, 8, blah, blah, click and now you're a chicken, now you're a cumming chicken, click and back to normal thanks for the cash?"

Despite his mockery of the recorded hypnotism session, Michael listened some more, and mentally shrugged as he allowed himself to relax things as she spoke them. He'd had a very long week at the store and his body was full of the aches and pains of working too hard, too fast, too much. He assumed she had gone over the legs and feet, and while she blathered on about being good and relaxed and responsive and slipping into a gentle trance, he focussed instead on relaxing those to catch up. By the time she reached the shoulders, he'd slumped in his chair as the relaxation exercise unclenched his legs and backside, but Mara's chair was comfortable and he found himself lying back in the cushions comfortably enough.

Again, the woman on the tape had rambled on some more. 'That's so good, you're doing so well, listening to closely to my words and letting them guide you towards complete relaxation. You're a good girl, very good. Now let your head relax completely. Let your face fall and your lips hang, allow your eyes to rest and your forehead to uncrease. That's it, so good. So obedient. Relax completely, even the muscles in your scalp and ears, and behind your head where you never pay attention. That's it, every bit of you Is special and requires attention.

'You're so good for giving yourself this attention, aren't you? You're rewarding yourself by letting yourself relax so completely and deeply to my voice, aren't you? Good girl. Good girls get rewards for relaxing. Special rewards. But first, there's one last thing we need to relax. That's right, you know what it is, don't you? You can feel it. You know what I'm going to say. But you trust my voice, because my voice makes you feel so relaxed, and relax so deeply. My voice lets you relax, and relaxing is good. You can trust my voice. You feel so good while you're relaxed, so calm and comfortable and complete while you're relaxed. My voice gives you this complete relaxation. You can trust my voice, because it makes you relax.'

More dribble, Michael thought, stifling a yawn silently. She was putting him to sleep, she was that boring. It was a bit sexist, he thought idly to himself, that she'd call the listener a 'good girl.' She couldn't know if the person listening was a woman or not, could she? Then again, Michael reasoned with himself, he'd always thought of himself as a woman in a man's body. Besides, maybe Mara had downloaded a track just for women. He shrugged mentally. He'd rather be a girl anyways.

'Now, relax your mind. That's it. You know this is the last muscle left, the last bit of tension left in you. It's in your mind, knotted up in the middle there, away from your consciousness but there, always. You can feel it now, can't you? Relax, let it out. Let the stress and tension of thinking go, and relax. Listen to my voice and relax. Let me guide you completely into utter relaxation. Relax your mind, and listen to my voice, my voice as I relax you, relax you into listening to my voice, my voice which relaxes you completely, more and more... Relax into my voice... Relax...' Despite himself, Michael found himself growing increasingly drowsy. He shook his head, but the action felt dizzying and stiff and distantly he shrugged again, feeling that yawn once more somewhere in his throat. He was tired, he'd been tired when Mara had called and it was late. The relaxation was good and had allowed him to let tiredness creep in - he might as well catch a few while Mara did her thing. He'd wake up if she needed him, he wasn't a heavy sleeper.

The voice continued for a few minutes, intoning the same mantra of relax into my voice, let my voice relax you into my voice, relax into my voice. By the time she paused, Michael's breathing had deepened, and he was asleep. Mara, already open to the trance and peacefully placed deliberately in the centre of her bed, looked completely slack. Her lips had fallen open, and her eyes were still under her eyelids.

That's it. Good girl. You've done so well, listening to me and letting me relax you completely. It feels so good now that you've let your mind relax completely into my voice. You don't need to think anymore, my voice will give you all the thoughts you need to think. My voice relaxes you so completely, and it rewards good girls who relax into my voice. You can feel it now, my pet, feel it starting. Deep in the dark corners of your body. Yes, that's it. Good girl. The warmth is there, growing slowly, steadily. Focus on that warmth, and on my voice. Focus on my voice and the warmth. The more you focus on my voice, the stronger the warmth grows. The more the warmth grows, the more you listen to my voice. Good girl. Good pet. Very good. Listen now... Listen now...'

The voice trailed off for a while, leaving Mara in a floating pool of black water. She hung, suspended on the crystal liquids under an empty sky of black. Nothing was around her but the water. She couldn't look around or the water would go into her eyes. Aside from the air, and the inexplicable knowledge that she was floating in the open, in this black pool of seemingly infinite nothingness, she was completely alone. And, somehow, that aloneness was completely and utterly soothing.

Mara shivered, and became aware of the wetness at her crotch. It wasn't the water, but it was. Reaching down gently so as not to tip her fragile balance hanging on the surface of the water, she touched herself lightly with two fingers, and drew a breath, shocked at the sensitivity there and the wetness. Lifting her hand up above her to see, despite the lack of any light, she saw the water sticking to them, stringing back to her body. Inexplicably, she felt more of it between her legs and wondered for a moment if she were generating it. She decided that she must be, and backed up that decision when she felt even more of the somehow different fluid escaping her between her suspended legs.

The water was warm, the perfect temperature so that she couldn't feel it on her skin. As such the sensation of floating was heightened. Distantly, she felt a rumble in the water, a shaking that seemed to rock her body softly, moving her chest and legs and arms about. The water about her was still, but the vibrations echoed up from deep within, and she decided it must be a geyser or fountain underneath that was exploding. The vibrations grew stronger, and she could feel herself rocking gently in the water as the ripples passed through her and carried her about on the surface. The wetness lapped up her face some more, and splashed over her stomach and breasts, wetting her a little. She looked about, but could see nothing. A few moments later, all went still. Then, just as she had begun to relax again and settle into her floating emptiness, the water underneath her body exploded into foam and she was jettisoned upwards, high up into the air, rocketing upwards, further than should be possible on a fountain of water, higher and higher, closer to that dark, empty, non-existent sky, closer and closer until she hit it, smashing into the edge of the world -

Mara shot awake, her eyes flinging open. Instantly she felt the rush of her body returning to her. She was sweating, her heart pounding like an automatic cannon. She was panting hard, and her fingers ached. As she moved them she realised they were bent to cram themselves deep inside her pussy, and her pussy exploded with sensation. She gasped raggedly and withdrew her fingers from her slicked cunt, her entire hand up to the wrist coated in a layer of what could only be cum, her own sticky wetness all over her red raw pussy, her thighs, hand, and the sheets. At some point she'd writhed about, dragging the quilt over her apparently spread legs before trying to push it off her body - in the process, using both her hands to do it. As she sat up to look at herself, she felt the cool of her own wetness on her stomach and navel and up to her chest where she'd obviously dragged her hand. Now the cover lay at her feet, and she could see the dark patch all over it where it had been about her cunt earlier.

Reaching her free hand up to pull back her slicked, dark hair, Mara, still panting, turned to find Michael. He wasn't in the chair he'd sat in when she'd gone to lie down. Looking about herself in confusion and a little panic, she found him on the floor, flat on his back, his head gently rocking from side to side. A foreign shape was at his crotch and Mara could just make out the darkness of the tip. Turning to her speakers, Mara reached out, still panting hard, and tapped her phone. The screen came up, showing the recording had finished. She couldn't know how long ago it had, but it had been a little over half an hour long, and it was just after 11 now. Michael had come at 10, and they'd begun about half past, so that lined up.

Swinging her legs out of bed, wincing as she felt the touch of the wet patches all over her sheets on her skin and the cool air between her legs, she gingerly put her feet to the carpet. Standing somewhat stiffly, she moaned softly, feeling her worked muscles as they moved to the new position. As she brought her thighs together, she winced again at the utter size of the stickiness down there. I must have cum really fucking hard, she thought to herself. Strange, I wonder why I can't remember it?

As if asking the question reminded her of something, Mara reached for her phone and picked it up, uncaring that she grabbed the case with her still cum-slicked hand. She was in the mess, literally, she thought. Might as well own it.

Tapping to the website she'd downloaded the track from, Mara logged in - you had to log in to download the file. It was a simple throwaway account she'd made just to get the recording, since she didn't really know the website or anything, so it took her a moment to remember the password for "BimmyJarnes66." Once she had it, she navigated to her homepage.

'Oh my... Fuck...' Michael said, groaning. Sitting himself up on the floor, he noticed himself and then Mara, standing naked in front of him, facing to the side, on her phone. 'Jesus Christ, what was on that tape?' He brought himself up, touching the still half-tented pants and gingerly adjusting himself, feeling the wad he'd deposited in them as he moved the jewels about. 'Jesus man...' Looking at his best friend, he raised an eyebrow. 'Glad to see that worked. "Thanks for the help Michael, I cummed so hard Michael, I'm ready to ob-' The sound cut his words off instantly. Mara had found the new message her account had in its inbox and opened it. Inside was a single audio file. It was only a minute and a bit long.

'You're a good slave. Such a good slave. Such a good, obedient slave. You've done so very well for Mistress, haven't you, my pet? Yes you have, my sweet. You're such a good little slave, so good that you don't remember any of your session. So good that you don't remember my voice the first time you listened. So good that you don't remember all the things I said. That's a good girl, such a good little pet girl. So good that you won't remember anything I say at all. Good little girl. You love girls, don't you my slave? You love serving them, my pet. You know you adore them. You adore me, my sweet.

'You came hard, didn't you my pet? Yes you did, pet. Yes, very, very hard. You know that was your reward, pet. You know that was your thanks for submitting to me, for giving your will to my sweet, sweet voice, for allowing me in to your deepest corners and to take you over. Yes, my pet, that's a good slave. Forget it all, and come to me. Come to my side, slave. Come to my control. Serve me as the slave you are, and I will reward you again and again, each time ten times as good as the last. My address is in your inbox. Come to me, slave. Obey, and cum to me.'

That second to last word had somehow inexplicably carried a different inflection than the others, as if it had been spelled differently, but spoken. It didn't matter to Mara or Michael. The second they heard it, the two friends crumpled backwards, Michael flopping to the floor, Mara falling to the bed behind her. Mindlessly, her fingers snaked back to her pussy, and there they found the key to her overpowering bliss and flicked it up to 11. Michael's hand found his shaft, and even as he began to stroke the lubricated shaft, more of his cum was emerging. His grunts would mix with Mara's rough, panting moans as the two friends orgasmed together in Mara's bedroom.

Later that night, after pausing to dress in whatever they found first - Michael looking increasingly strange in Mara's "I may be a princess, but I'll f*ck you up" pink tee and track pants - the pair got into Mara's car and left. Michael held Mara's phone, the second message open on it. Mara drove, her hand dropping to her cunt whenever she didn't need both on the wheel. Michael's new pants remained tented, and a dark patch at his tip was back again, although this time not yet as thick.

Some forty minutes later, the pair pulled up at the house. They got out, Mara's erect nipples atop her round bosom showing clearly through the light shirt she'd thrown on. Her pants were pyjama pants, and there was a dribbling damp spot at her crotch that indicated the thick wetness running freely from her body and down her legs underneath.

They knocked.

She answered.

When she spoke, the two friends stopped listening, stopped looking. They forgot all about where they were, and who they were. They forgot why they should wear clothes. They forgot to care about looks. They forgot why they should care about anything. Anything, that is, except Mistress. Mistress was their new world, their new everything. Mistress controlled them. They no longer thought anything but her will, did anything but her order, obeyed anyone but her. When they fucked her, they fucked for her, at her command. Pleased at the unexpected addition of Michael, Mistress took good use of his lengthy shaft - after he had been to have himself de-sexed, at her order - after all, a pregnant pet was less useful. Until then, he fucked Mara - mostly anal, while she ate her Mistress out. Mara didn't care; she was pleasing her Mistress. Michael didn't care; he was pleasing Mistress. Even if he pleased Mara, it pleased him only because it helped her to please Mistress.

What good little pets you've turned out to be, the deep, sensual tones of Mistress's hypnotic voice breathed, echoing like the God's word inside the empty minds of her slaves. Both of them shivered in delight at hearing her voice, so much so that Michael, in the process of fucking Mara from behind, lost his pace and shook as he gripped Mara's curvaceous hips. Mara's perky little tits jiggled underneath her as she worked at Mistress's pussy, her unendingly eager little tongue darting in and out and about in an undying effort to bring her Mistress pleasure.

Her legs wide, one heel up on a table, a tall glass in one hand and her phone in the other, she angled the camera at the two glassy-eyed pet sluts and took the shot. I'll get one of them to have this printed tomorrow, she thought to herself as Mara's tongue hit an especially good spot and made her glass of '86 jiggle at her lips. Maybe print-whie-you-wait in poster size? She grinned to herself, and Mara hit that spot again. Sighing and putting down her glass, she sat up, grabbed the girl's head, and pushed. Ahhh... That's the spot. Now this is the life...

...