Young Minds Ch. 01

I'm a firm believer in starting as you mean to go on, so I feel that I should start with clear honesty here. I am not the hero of this story. In truth, I don't think that there are any heroes here; merely villains and their victims. That is the setting that I intend to weave around you, dear reader, in this tale of natural and unnatural satisfactions.

Who am I? I am a student of the human condition. I study people, in all of their most delicious intricacies. Most of all, I study the little things that people deny about themselves. I study the truth, and the denial of it. That's what I'll be talking about, the simple truth that people refuse to believe or admit to.

We are made to re-populate - nothing more. To deny the cravings of the flesh is sacrilege. In this, I am not a student. I am a teacher; an instructor of fresh minds.

Of course, it's the fresh minds that keep it interesting. There's nothing like a new perspective on the same old routine. My students teach me as much as I teach them.

At this point, I should likely give a quick run down of my methods. Lust is the major one of course. You can have all of the tools at your disposal that you wish, but lust is the simplest way to get anything that you want. I make myself look presentable; I change my appearance to adapt to the prey that I seek at the time. I stay clean, keep my teeth white and make sure that there's always a pleasant smell about me. It's important, but that's only one part of it. I have knowledge of the best spots to hunt, practice with those generously charming lines and how to make facial expressions that say everything you could possibly want to say without even opening your mouth. Those are all tied in with the lust though. The psychology gives me a fairly obvious advantage over most, but so do the little hypnosis tricks. I know how to twist a mind, willing and unwilling, to the machinations of my own design. In fact, I quite thoroughly enjoy it. I work very hard on those designs of mine.

And so we come to the actual story that I have to tell. It isn't going to be altogether brief, but I think it's something you might enjoy. There's so much to tell, and so much that even I find difficulty in explaining, but here goes I suppose.

My name is Samuel King. I am a twenty-seven year old, with a quite incredible amount of money due to coming from a particularly rich family. Most of my life, people have referred to me as a spoiled rich brat. I don't much mind people thinking that, but I will point out that, when I want something, I do more than throw money at it in order to get it. I live in a quiet English town called Westford, on track with a much bigger city from which I mainly feed. I am moderately thin, and not all that tall, but I tend to make up for it using subtle trickeries in the clothing and, of course, in presence. I have natural black hair, just long enough to gel in whatever direction I require. My eyes change colour depending on my mood. I also suit sunglasses very well. I have a deeper voice than I hear in my head, but I compensate for it using recordings and a little forethought.

I was twenty-five when I encountered the first woman whom I would consider prey. When I was twenty-two, I worked as a guidance councillor for my most local school. It was an easy enough job, given to me based on my years of experience and my degree in psychology. Obviously, I made no mention of the hypnosis and hypnotherapy that I had been studying and indulging in over the years.

I was a good boy then. People tell me that they find fifteen and sixteen year olds attractive, but I really don't see it. There is such a thing as too easy and impressionable. I like fully-formed minds to play around with. Still, I built on the groundwork that I had laid unintentionally in those years. One of the people who visited me looking for guidance in those days was a sixteen year old named Joanna Dawn, though she preferred to go by Jo. She was a fairly different girl from the usual sort I ended up getting. She had much more of a brain. Jo wanted to go into physics full-time and make a career out of it, and I supplied guidance in that direction. She was blonde, kept her hair short, and was very careful with her popularity. She kept her intelligence as secretive as possible. Jo has a certain style I quite admired.

Three years later, I would encounter her again, and she would remember me. After a year of University, studying Physics to everybody's surprise but mine, Jo wandered back for the summer and encountered me playing Pool in a pub. This was quite the chance meeting, and I certainly didn't recognise her, but she knew me. She pulled her friends along behind her and gave me a big hug hello. It was a new sort of welcome for me. Her hair was still blonde, but she'd made things a little more spiky, layered and with a little outward flick. I liked it.

The challenge afterwards was to get her alone, but even that proved easy enough. The light in her eyes gave me a colourful little hint; she had a crush, and likely it had been there for three years. Her friends smoked. I suspect that she did too, but I didn't, so she stayed in the pub with me. We played Pool. She flirted, lowering her body so that I could see right down her top. She was making it all the more obvious.

It wasn't all that hard to get her inside my home, alone. Honestly, I had expected the encounter to be a much more laborious affair, but my talents were of worth even then. There was no subtle trickery; no long-term ownership investment and no real work involved. She'd had a crush on me for years, and she just needed me to be willing in order for her to fulfil it.

"What's this?" she asked me, wandering through the unmarked bottles in my alcohol cabinet.

"Strong," I told her. This was perfectly true, since, as I have stated, I do make a point of being extremely honest. "You should pour me one too," I added. This provided the perfect offer for her. Jo had already indulged in a fair few drinks, none of which I had bought her myself, despite her providing one for me. The effects were beginning to show, and having her bend over in a short, flared skirt was an enticement that I was thoroughly enjoying. I hadn't caught even the most subtle glimpse of her underwear yet, but I knew that, given time, I would be able to see everything.

"Smells like it's going to hurt," said Jo, scrunching up her nose at the smell of the whiskey in her glass. I joined her at the cabinet, knocked my glass against hers momentarily and we both downed the liquid quickly. I felt a familiar burn, while she coughed in shock of what she'd just ingested.

My next move was a well practiced one, made for use on the sure thing. Jo hadn't taken off her jacket yet, so I slid my hands in underneath the material and onto her shoulders, then slowly moved it gently down her arms and back. I took my time deliberately; she knew my intention and I made sure of it. In so close behind her, I could feel her body pressed against mine and, with my head over her shoulder, the slightest glance downwards let me see into her bra. It was ever so slightly too big for her, which was deceiving because of her quite substantial chest. Her little nipples, rosy and pink, told of her excitement.

"Would you like another drink?" Jo asked me, as soon as her jacket was completely off.

I didn't move from my position, throwing her jacket over a nearby chair instead, then reaching forward for my bottle to refill my glass.

"Do you?" I inquired.

Turning to look me in the eye, Jo suddenly realised just how close we were. Our lips were less than an inch from each other. She glanced down, looking over my slightly parted lips as I examined the remnants of her lipstick; carefully applied before she had started drinking. She bit down a little, then nodded.

Again, I made no effort to move away. We drank again. Jo was swaying ever so slightly now, though her eyes were still focussed on me. I'm not entirely sure who leaned in first, but it made no difference. Her whiskey tinged tongue sought mine, and I gave it to her gladly. A certain fire shot through my blood the moment our parted lips first touched. I wrapped my arms around her loosely, one hand touching her hip and the other laying mostly across her breasts. I didn't want to overwhelm her just yet - for all I knew Jo was still a virgin.

Another few minutes, for the sake of spreading alcohol, would be important for progression. Leading her into the bedroom was far too bold a move also, so I invited her to join me on the couch instead. I lived in a fairly luxurious house, not grand by shared approximations, but for a man alone it was quite the bachelor pad. She joined me and, when she leaned back, I made sure that I had an arm around her back. This relaxed her further.

"You look very comfortable," I whispered soothingly into her ear. "It's almost like you feel at home, welcome and secure."

The words were very carefully chosen, sliding through her state of drunken consciousness. Anybody who's been drunk knows that nothing quite has your full attention at the time. In truth, this leaves a wonderful little gap between your inhibitions that somebody like me is fully capable of taking advantage of. She didn't review or evaluate my words. Instead, she focussed on my voice and how close my lips were to her ear. The warm breath would feel good, and the way her fingers drew tightly together was a testament to that.

I had the temperature up fairly high to encourage her to shed her clothing, but it was being sluggish in coming on, so I decided to warm her blood myself. I leant in a little closer, giving her the opportunity to come for another taste of my tongue, and she took it willingly. I slipped my hand, very gently, onto her bare thigh as she did and started to stroke, teasingly, up and down. Her legs were very smooth. I moved very slowly up to the very hem of her skirt, and down all the way to the top of the black and white striped socks that came to just below her kneecaps. Concentrating on running over every piece of exposed flesh, I worked my way inwards, and her legs parted ever so slightly in response. I'm not sure how much of this was intentional and how much was just natural. I've learned much more since, but at that time I was still a little naive.

Jo's own hands started grasping at the collar of my shirt, desperately trying to pull my body closer to hers. I let this continue while I focussed my attentions elsewhere. My major focus was to distract her using my hands so that my mouth could work out some subtle trickery. The simple fact was that I wasn't sure what Jo wanted from me. If she wasn't a virgin, I could very easily use her body and then move on, but this would be made much more difficult if she was.

I will apologise to you here, dear reader, since I have no intention of ever detailing the methods by which I hypnotise somebody. My scripts are much too efficient to be for sale. I will point out that, while my hands drew her attention to themselves, I whispered my lines into her ear and gently brought her down into a state of trance. It was actually surprisingly easy.

As she laid still beside me, the first person outside of lessons that I had ever hypnotised, I was struck with the sudden inspiration for mischief.

"Are you a virgin, Jo?" I asked her simply, with absolute confidence that she would answer entirely honestly. This is another thing that I love about hypnosis. The world is not twisted by lies.

"No," she answered succinctly in her relaxed drawl. This was quite the relief.

I had intended to stop there, but my selfish curiosity managed to push me farther.

"Why did you come home with me, Jo?" I continued. Surely staying on the same line of questioning would do little to no damage.

"I haven't seen you in so long," muttered Jo, "I wanted to spend some time learning all about you again."

"And would you be adverse to the idea of sex with me, Jo?"

"No."

"Did you want that, Jo?"

"No."

"Then why are you so eager right now, Jo?"

"Because you want it."

Learning the motives of a woman that I was about to sleep with was surely unlikely to cause any sort of damage. I was just looking for information, after all.

"Did you want sex with me to result in a relationship, Jo?"

"Yes."

This was unacceptable. Not only was there nine years between us, but Jo was most certainly in no position to be my girlfriend. I knew that I should stop it there, but surely there was no harm in changing her mind a little? We would have had sex anyway.

"Jo," I began slowly, "you know that I do not want a relationship. This makes you much less likely to have sex with me, I know, but you are so turned on right now that you know you can't leave without having sex. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Are you turned on, Jo?"

"Yes."

"Are you turned on enough to have sex with me, knowing that I don't want a relationship, Jo?"

"No."

This, again, was unacceptable. I decided then to ensure that I got what I wanted. I slipped my arm away from her and released my body from hers. She leant backwards against the sofa, steered by my hands, and I sat down opposite her.

"Jo, you're at home now," I told her. "There's nobody home, and all of this is a fantasy going on in your head. Our kissing is in the fantasy. Me touching you is in the fantasy. Everything until the moment that you were hypnotised is all in the fantasy, and it's making you feel extremely turned on. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"What do you do when you're turned on, Jo?"

"I touch myself."

"Good. Jo, when I tell you to wake up you will firmly believe that you are at home, with nobody else there. You will want to touch yourself, and you will do that, making yourself as wet as possible because, in your fantasy, you're preparing for my cock. You will not be able to see or hear me, and will only respond when I say our phrase to bring you back to trance. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Jo, awaken."

When she opened them, her eyes spoke clearly of the dominant sense of arousal. She laid back on the couch, using my lap as her pillows, and likely thinking that it was. The beauty of the human mind is most obvious when convincing itself that something false is reality. I examined her as she moved. Certainly she was well into her activity before I had made it real for her, since she didn't bother with subtle caresses or her chest at all. She lifted her hips and pulled her skirt up, revealing matching black underwear beneath, though of a different sort of fabric. I felt a strong urge to touch her, but knew that this would be a bad move.

Her technique was interesting. She slid her left hand inside her underwear, holding it slightly to the left and digging her fingers into herself deeply. She sighed the sigh that all women make upon penetration, then brought her right hand, fingers first, to just above her left and on top of the underwear. There she started to rub in gentle little circles, all the time holding her left hand in place. This was a woman who loved having something in her. Likely she owned a toy or two for this particular purpose.

At first her sounds were small as she rubbed. From my angle, her right hand was blocking me from looking inside her underwear, but I had caught a glimpse of trimmed curls before this became the case. As she became louder, her left hand began to move as well, in and out of herself. The imprint of her hand showed me that she had started with one finger, but she added another not long after she started going back and forth. Soon, she was biting down, keeping herself from making any noises but for sighs and whimpers. She was obviously having a very good time.

I brought her back under, then made her forget what she had just done. In this vein, I had her move her hands away and brought her up to cuddle against me again.

"You've never felt this turned on, Jo. Say it."

"I've never felt this turned on."

"You attribute it entirely to me, Jo. Say it."

"I attribute it entirely to you."

I ensured that the words by which I might control her were held in place, but now I was hard, and her little show had thrilled me. Her skirt was back in place. The only marker of what she'd just done was the brightness of her bottom lip, but that wasn't something that she would be aware of, leaving me quite satisfied with everything so far.

"Do you want to have sex with me, Jo?"

"Yes."

"Do you want a relationship from it, Jo?"

"Yes."

I frowned, still very much a novice. Then came a breakthrough, with my mind providing the missing piece of my puzzle.

"If, after we have sex, I say that I am not too interested in a relationship, what will you do, Jo?"

"I don't know."

Trying to evoke confidence about her body in a woman is as difficult as it is with men, so I didn't play that card.

"Jo, you remember things we've said today. You remember me saying I just came out of a relationship, but you won't remember it until after we have sex. Then, you'll remember me saying that I'm reticent, but the right woman is always able to convince me. I'm going to seem so happy after we make love, Jo, that you're going to think it's the perfect thing to convince me. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Do couples make love, Jo?"

"Yes."

"Does making love make people closer, Jo?"

"Yes."

"Does making love make people happy together, Jo?"

"Yes."

I secured these memories, ensured that she would notice no difference between now and when she was put under, then woke her up. She was so aroused that she was literally putty in my hands. I laid her on my couch, kissing her and holding her wrists down so that she would know that she was under my power now. With every kiss, I claimed another piece of her mind, her heart and her soul. She was all mine now.

There was a fire in our motions as we stripped each other off. I released her wrists and she immediately reached for the buttons of my shirt. Her enthusiasm was close to destructive, but she worked the little devices quickly and got through to lay her hands on my chest. She let out a whimper, feeling my cock against her. Her legs were spread, welcoming, demanding. Unhappy with only being able to touch flesh above the belt, her next move was to remove that belt altogether and fling it across the room.

I pulled myself back, taking away the thing that she wanted most. She rose with me, desperate not to lose her lip hold on me and I used this opportunity to drag her top over her head. The heating had come on now, so there was no shiver, even out in the open like this. Her bra was a plain, cream one that revealed little. I didn't like it. It was gone within moments.

As she unbuttoned and unzipped my trousers, I pushed her onto her back again and busied myself with butterfly kisses all across her chest. I ran my tongue over every bit of exposed flesh, always dancing circles around her nipples, then let my breath awake her nerves on the wet spots. Her fingers ran, again and again, through my hair. Her movements were getting faster and more erratic. She was losing control completely.

I took this chance to push her skirt back up and gather it around her waist. She could keep that on, since it would hardly get in the way, but I pulled her underwear down her thighs and off of her, thoroughly enjoying the moment when the crotch got stuck to her due to the gathered wetness.

Once gone, I glanced once at her blonde landing strip before going straight past to reach her lips again. Our chests met as our tongues fought, and her hands found their way, obviously as pure reflex, to my open trousers. She pushed everything down as far as she could, releasing what would become the source of all present and future pleasure for her. My cock actually came forward quite quickly and bounced lightly against her thigh. I would have laughed, but my mouth was busy.