The Addicted Natural Ch. 10


"How is she?" I asked, hesitantly.

"She's okay, Freddy. I talked her out of it. It's over." She looked down at her feet again. "Freddy, ...?"

Here it comes, I thought. "What?"

"Freddy, I want you to make her your slave. That's what she wants, Freddy. I want to keep her with us. I want ...."


"I want ..."

"NO!" I screamed. "NO! NO! NO!" I suddenly realized that I'd balled my fists and was actually stamping my feet. "You can't "keep" a person! She's not some puppy you found by the side of the road! She's a WOMAN!"

"Sure you can, Freddy. I'm a woman, and you keep ME."


"I'm your slave, Freddy. I love you more than the air I breathe, but I could never leave you, even if I wanted to. I'm your hypnotic slave. You OWN me! And now you can own her, too!"

"NO! Absolutely not! I have you and you have me, and that's quite enough, thank you!"

"Think about it, Freddy!" Her eyes were big and bright and dreamy. "You could have her anytime you wanted. You could have either one of us! We could be like sisters! Sisters in slavery!"

The two of them, naked, meek and obedient, suddenly walked into my fevered brain and stood awaiting my orders; waiting to serve my every need. I shook my head, trying to clear it.


"And not only that, Freddy," she said demurely. "If she is yours, then everything she has is yours."

The picture suddenly expanded. The two naked beauties were standing in front of that car. That beautiful car. And the car was parked in front of the lake house.


"She loves you! And you love her. And you can HAVE her, Freddy. You can save her, and you can have her ... forever."

The lake ....


She was looking past me again, and I turned, and there she was. Dee had obviously been crying. Her eyes were wide, like a deer caught in the headlights, and she was suddenly a little girl in a woman's body. Her chest was rising and falling as she breathed. She saw me staring and her breath seemed to catch, and she held it, accentuating those breasts. She seemed so fragile and meek and feminine. The classic lady in distress. She was really very, very lovely. God, those breasts!

I suddenly realized that Brenda hadn't said anything in a very long time, and I turned back to look down at my beautiful, enigmatic wife. She was holding her breath in anticipation, too, and I slowly came to understand that they were both waiting for me to say something, though surely Dee couldn't hear me.

If she wasn't so damned pretty! Both of them! Begging to be my slaves. Needing to be my hypnotic playthings. And that house .... And then, there was the suicide threat, which I could solve simply by enslaving her; making her my willing sexual servant. And that car .... And she needed my control. My complete and total control. And the lake .... And those breasts; those marvelous breasts.

Brenda was still holding her breath.

I nodded.


What had Menlo done to Brenda? For more than a year, I really thought I knew the answer to that. I'd found out about the "room below the room." I'd even "changed" Brenda in small ways, with regards to her low tolerance to alcohol, as well as her perception of my manhood. But while this really seemed to satisfy all the various theorems of hypnotic mind control as I saw the equations, it slowly, finally dawned on me that I had horribly underestimated the man. And by the time I discovered this error, the world had lost all traces of Diana Darlingshire forever. One of the greatest sins of my entire life is the sad fact that I unwittingly eradicated a living, breathing human being and replaced her with someone else.

I discovered my error this way:

On the fateful evening I first hypnotized Dee, I was absolutely flabbergasted by my ease of putting her under my control, and by how I was able to take her into the deepest realm of hypnotic trance so effortlessly. Keep in mind that she was the first person I'd ever actually attempted to hypnotize (besides my lovely bride, who from the very beginning, had literally begged me to place her under my power). Once I had Dee as deep as she was able to descend, I spent great pains introducing her to her own "room," which I attempted to match exactly to Brenda's. I led her to her own "room below," and saw no harm in subjecting her to the same "changes" I'd made in Brenda.

Getting tipsy on a single glass of wine wasn't that big a deal, I surmised, and even if she was later confronted by someone who had once seen her down a whole bottle, she would probably be only mildly confused. So I used "the way it always was," etc, etc; just like Menlo had drilled into Brenda. I also used the lower room to make the same "suggestion" that my cock was the largest she had ever seen, or ever would see. I wanted her to remember me fondly, and I was relatively sure that my "over-endowment" would not spoil things for her in her future sexual relationships with other men. Likewise, the existence of an overactive G-Spot couldn't hurt anything, could it? I considered it my gift to her.

Back up in her real hypnotic "room," I was careful to discuss her newfound "infatuation" with me in strictly temporary terms. Brenda's arguments from that morning made sense. Sex in a truly loving relationship would certainly be much more meaningful than plain animalistic lust. The results, when I awakened her, were extremely gratifying. At least, they were as far as I was concerned. I don't know why it never dawned on me that she would consider HERSELF the aggressor in the sexual act, and thus shift the weight of all the guilt associated with the evening onto her own pretty shoulders.

The following day, when I finally recovered from a near-coronary after finding out her true identity, I was more than a bit overwhelmed when I realized that the girl actually DID love me. In fact, as the days and weeks rolled along, she seemed to love me more and more all the time. Loved me to the point of idolatry; to the point of worship. I think I was more flattered than anything. Flattered even unto blindness, as the case turned out. It really, honestly never even dawned on me that her love for me was not true (well, not truly her own idea, at any rate), until I read her diary almost a month later. She had insinuated in her text that she thought her love for me had begun the moment she'd set eyes on me. "The way it always was," she'd written, "and the way it always will be." The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. I suddenly suspected that something was very, very wrong here.

After thinking about it for a couple weeks, I thought of a test that might shed some light on this new supposition. I walked up to Dee as she knelt in one of the flower beds planting some new type of posies. "Why don't you plant some violets, Dee," I asked innocently.

"Violets are weeds," she answered, looking up at me and smiling.

"It just happens to be the state flower," I observed.

"Oh, they're pretty enough, but they're really one of the most prolific weeds around. They spread by seeds, by rhizomes below the ground, by runners above the ground, and when the wind breaks off a leaf, it takes root and grows wherever it lands."

I sat down on the grass beside her. "Would you like me to hypnotize you?" I asked.

"YES!" she answered immediately, emphatically. She turned and gave me her entire attention. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes suddenly appeared so heavy she could hardly keep them open. I said nothing; just smiled and returned her gaze. It was happening again. "Please ..." she whispered, but her eyes could barely stay open now.

This was yet another big difference between Brenda and Dee that was beginning to become more evident with each passing day. For despite all of Menlo's talk that morning more than a year before, Brenda WAS addicted to hypnosis. If I went for more than a couple days without giving her the sweet surrender of the trance, she would become more and more anxious, and she'd finally come to me with her meek-little-girl face and beg plaintively for me to take her hypnotically. Dee, on the other hand, would never think about it at all until the hypnotic induction began. I had once gone a week without hypnotizing her, and she showed none of the anxiety that would seize Brenda. But, just as now, once the induction had started, she seemed to suddenly "remember" her addiction, and she would give in to the urge with impassioned, overwhelming emotion.

Now, I watched her trying desperately to maintain eye contact, but she was slowly losing the fight. Her arms hung useless at her sides. She swayed forward, and then she sat up straight again with a supreme effort that seemed to drain the last bit of strength from her. Her lips were mouthing her "Submit and Obey" mantra, but she was too weak to find her voice. Finally, smiling, I opened my arms to her, and she leaned forward, nestling into my body as she made a little moan of surrender. She had hypnotized herself. I'd never said a word.

I gently turned her and moved slightly, so that her head was in my lap, her body stretched out on the grass beside the flower bed. I ran my fingers through her thick red hair. The smile on her lips bespoke her absolute bliss.

"Dee ...."

"Yes, Master."

"Where are you?"

"I'm lying naked on my bed in my wonderful room."

"We're just going to talk for a little while, okay?"

The smile broadened. "Sure, Master. I love talking to you while I'm in my room. I could do it forever!"

"Dee, I'd like to talk to you about violets."

"You must really like them, Master. You've talked about them before. I'll plant some, if you want."

"No, no. I only want you to plant flowers that YOU like. I've given you that one freedom here at the house. You've done very well. Your flower beds are all beautiful."

She blushed. "Thank you, Master."

"But I want you to think about violets now. Picture them in your mind ... see them in the early spring as they bloom in the woods. See them clearly. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Yes ... yes they are. I never realized how lovely they are."

"I think you might learn to like them more than you thought."

"Yes. Beautiful ...."

"Wake up now, Dee."

Her eyes sprang open, she blinked a few time, then did her yawning-stretching routine as she gave me her biggest "just-awakened" grin. She sat up and put her arms around me.

"Do you want me?" she asked tentatively.

I laughed. "Yes, very much."

She jumped up and tugged at my arm, pulling me to my feet while I laughed at her earnestness and she blushed at the inability to hide her raw physical need to please me. She began pulling me toward the house, but I had other plans. I led her over to one of the big oaks, pulled a cushion off the wooden swing hanging from a lower limb, placed it on the ground, and pointed down at it.

"Here," I said.

She looked about her with wide, horrified eyes. "HERE?!"

"Take off your clothes, Dee," I told her flatly. She hesitated. "Now!" And she immediately pulled her t-shirt over her head and began fumbling with her belt, always looking about her. She looked panicked. She was trembling. She was very, very lovely.

"There's a boat out on the lake!" she whined. I turned and looked. The guys in the john boat were a long way out and hadn't taken any notice of us yet. I reached out and held her slim, bare waist with both hands and maneuvered her so that the tree was between us and the boat. She hopped up and down a bit as I did this, her blue jeans down around her ankles, her hands behind her back, fumbling with her bra strap. When I let go, she sat heavily on the cushion and began pulling her shoes off. In a few more seconds, she sat completely naked. I had lain down, my hands behind my head, and I waited for her. There was a deep, pink blush that made her whole face look dark, especially against the contrast of her pale body. Her eyes were constantly casting glances in every direction, then demurely back down at the ground. I'd never seen her more nervous, and I wondered why we hadn't explored the wonderful world of public sex before.

"Wha ... what do you want me to do?" she whispered.

I grabbed one of the pillows that had toppled off the swing when I had snatched the cushion, and I propped it behind my head and watched her with interest. "Stand up."

"Oh, Master! .... Oh, please!" But she rose, naked and lovely, and stood before me.

Robert Darlingshire had purchased his lake house getaway in the form of six adjacent one-acre rectangular tracts, each 400 feet long, that abutted the lake at the lower edge. He had cleared the center two for the house and lake view, but he'd left the two on either side in dense woods and underbrush. So Dee's little display wasn't really too public at all. She could easily be seen from the house, but there was only Brenda there, whom I had left reading a book in the dining room when I walked down to talk to Dee. The tree hid her from the boatload of fishermen ... for now, at least. Even so, as I made her turn around and display herself to me, she looked absolutely mortified. She shivered, though the weather was warm. I thought I knew the reason for that, at least in part, but my experiment hadn't run its course yet.

"Now," I told her firmly, after I'd made her turn and displayed herself to my heart's content, "I will grant you the freedom to please me any way you wish."

She took a few shuddering breaths, fell to her knees beside me, and began unbuckling my belt. In very short order, she had my cock out of my pants and into her moist, sucking mouth. Bent forward, bare and beautiful over her task, her big breasts swinging and bouncing wildly, she poured her heart into her efforts, and in extremely short order I found myself building toward a climax. I reached down and held her head in my hands as it bobbed up and down.

"Touch yourself!" I ordered, and she immediately let go of my balls (which slightly slowed my steep ascent toward completion) and reached between her own legs. "Touch yourself in just the right spot," I commanded. "I want you to make yourself cum soon. Very soon. Rub hard!" I gritted my teeth. This was happening fast. She moaned around my fleshy pole. Her body was still shaking, but for an entirely different reason now. I couldn't hold back any longer, and as I began to spurt my seed down her throat, she gave a gurgling, muffled scream and convulsed violently as her own orgasm hit. She shook for many long seconds, then pitched forward and fell heavily across my body, breathing hard.

There were shouting noises from far away; whooping and cheering. The fishing boat had obviously drifted so that the tree no longer blocked the view, and the guys had seen us.

"Oh my God!" Dee muttered, still trying to catch her breath.

After a long minute, I told her to get up. She held herself against me for protection and reached out to collect her clothes. "No," I told her quietly but firmly. "Leave your clothes. I'll bring them inside for you. I want you to get up and walk back to the house just the way you are."

"Oh Master! Oh, please don't make me!"

"What will you do for me if I command you?" I asked sternly.

"Anything," she said, eyes lowered submissively. "Anything."

"Go. Go inside and tell Brenda exactly what has happened to you here."

She stood shakily, covered her breasts with her hands, then thought better of it and lowered her arms to her sides. She turned, utterly humiliated, and walked slowly back up the hill to the house. She was quite a picture. The guys in the boat apparently thought so, too. I zipped myself back up, stood, gathered up her garments, and followed. I never looked back at the lake.

In the house, the girls were nowhere to be seen, and I supposed that they were in Dee's room talking. They shared everything, and I'd sort of figured that her story would be a nice little gift for Brenda (as it turned out, she had been watching us from the house with a pair of binoculars). I puttered around the in library for awhile. Eventually, I heard the sound of Brenda's "coming noises" from that part of the house, and I knew that Dee's story, along with some loving caresses, had had the desired affect.

The next morning, Dee and Brenda came into the library and announced that they were going for a walk. Brenda carried a picnic basket, and she asked me if I wanted to go along. There was a trail that wound along the length of each of the adjacent wooded lots, and the two of them would often walk down one, across the front of the cleared waterfront, and back up the other side. I declined, but asked about the small shovel and bucket Dee was carrying.

"I'm going to dig up some wild violets," Dee announced. "I'm going to plant some in the upper flowerbed."

"I didn't think you liked violets," I said, matter-of-factly.

"Oh, no, I love them! They're my favorite flower! They always have been. They always will be. I can't get enough of them!"

"You told me once that they're just weeds," I said. My worst fears were being realized.

Dee shrugged. "They DO spread easily," she said thoughtfully. "But it's worth it to see them every spring. They're just gorgeous!" She smiled broadly. "They're the state flower, you know."

They walked off, hand-in-hand, out of the house and into the woods.

So that answered that.

Brenda had two separate, distinct parts to her hypnotic "favorite place." There was her room with its soft, comfortable bed, where we would talk comfortably and intimately. I might influence her when she was there, but there was never any danger of real change taking place in her mind. If I ever really USED that place, it was to find out something from her, for she had no secrets from me there. And a gentle suggestion that she might like pizza for dinner would result in us having pizza for dinner, nothing more. I never had to worry about pizza becoming her all-time favorite food. I could do that, of course, if I ever really wanted. But that was the realm of the "lower room," her "soul." And, as I said before, I almost never took her there anymore.

I had patterned Dee's room to be just like Brenda's, but now I understood my monumental error. THERE WAS NO DIFFENCE BETWEEN DEE'S UPPER ROOM AND HER LOWER ONE! Everything, and I mean everything, that I had told Dee while she was under hypnosis had changed her. Changed her for good! Changed her forever!

What was I going to do?

I racked my brain in an effort to try and remember what I had said to her while I had her under my influence, but in the past month and a half, I had hypnotized her dozens of times. There had been a period, as I mentioned, when I had not put her under for many days. But there had been other days when I had done it two or three times. She loved to tell me, while she was lying on "her bed of truth," how much she loved me. This made her so happy, so peaceful, so content, that I saw no reason not to agree with and support the pleasant emotions. But now I suddenly realized that I had been IMPLANTING those feelings. Without the hypnosis, she probably never would have loved me at all!

I had quickly grown to love her overt modesty, love her nervous shyness, and I had told her this while she was under my control. But now, I wasn't entirely sure if she had EVER been shy or modest. I may have just seen what I ASSUMED to be those traits! Now, they were burned into her personality forever!

The next day, I took Brenda for a long walk and laid the whole problem at her feet. I had never been so serious about anything in my life. She laughed. And when I started to get angry about her reaction, she laughed even harder. Finally, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me while I fumed, and she tried to compose herself to present her argument.

It didn't matter, she said, WHAT we did with Dee, as long as she was happy with her life. And she WAS, Brenda said firmly. She was completely, totally, enormously happy. Diana Darlingshire was dead. Dead and gone. The girl we now knew as Dee was a pretty, happy, energetic, and thoroughly unique individual, who was content with her place in the world. We had given her the gift of life, and more importantly, we had given her the gift of love. Changing her a little was secondary to all of that. (Or, at least, that was Brenda's spin on things.)

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