Klaire Goes On Holiday

Part 4

I found that hypnosis could be a dangerous thing the next day, especially with Klaire being raring to go, and eager to please.  The Capri command was the second one that I had to rescind.  She chose to have a Capri 120 mid morning.  The post-hypnotic command was fun to watch as she began to squirm and give me a decidedly seductive come-on with those wonderful eyes.  “Oh, pleeease, Rob,” she pouted, ready to cum at a brush and phrase.  I was mean, because I told her, “not yet,” leaving her on the edge of that orgasm, and not being terribly interested in giving her a little push.  She begged me on her hands and knees, telling me that she’d be such a very good slave, anything at all I wanted, just tell her to do it as long as I would allow her release.  I refused, telling her to kneel in silence at my feet while I watched TV.  Halfway through the movie (some mindless comedy to keep my libido at bay), I had her fetch me a glass of water.  She did, bringing back the Capri 120’s and holder.  She began to smoke.  I stopped watching the movie.  She got even hornier, I watched her finish her smoke.  As I was contemplating whether or not to let her have the release that was close enough to make her insane, she turned and noticed the bulge in my pants.  I got pounced.  As she had captured my fancy through my fetish, I didn’t even think about hypnotizing her to make her stop.

An hour later, she smiled, eyes half-lidded, hair a mess, and stood up, having been rewarded for her initiative.  The intensity of her little lust attack was something I wasn’t quite prepared for.  After a few seconds on wobbly legs, she disappeared for a moment and then came back out.  “Rob, I’m going to put something in the microwave, if you don’t mind.  Would you like your slave to prepare you something as well?”  Now that she mentioned it, I was hungry.  She fiddled around in the kitchen out of my eyesight for a few seconds, and then I heard the click of a lighter.  She came into the living room, still naked, but with a freshly lit Capri 120 in the holder, and looked at me with a slightly predatory, albeit glazed expression on her face as the post-hypnotic command went to work again.  “I’m getting so very randy, master.  Make me cum again,” she purred, coming to my side and arranging herself to give me a very good view and easy access.  I felt a familiar stirring, but lust fell prey to sense.

“Sleep,” I said, touching her forehead, and grabbing her.  “You may open your eyes and act as though you are awake on the count of three.  Now you will obey what I am about to tell you.  The Capri will just be a long, feminine cigarette to you.  It will still make you feel very seductive and very sexy, but smoking one will no longer put you on the verge of orgasm.  It will not make you extra horny.  Do you understand?”

“Ahyess… mass-terrr.”  I counted to three, and commanded her to finish her cigarette in a fashion that she believed would excite me.  She french-inhaled every remaining puff, exhaling slowly with a sultry look on her face each time.  I was ready again by the time she put it out, but I brought her out of trance and acted as if nothing was going to happen.  I had something planned for this evening, and I didn’t want to wear either of us out prematurely.  She’d need some stamina.  The history and art museums would have to wait for another day; it was already one in the afternoon.

We went to a local outdoor café for drinks and an early dinner.  A few passers-by took an extra look as Klaire smoked her cigarette in the holder, but no one said anything to either of us.  Klaire was having a post-meal Virginia Slim 120 when a Goth girl walking by stopped at our table and said hello.  Her very black hair was cut short and straight, and she had nose and eyebrow rings.  Her arms were adorned with tattoos.  Klaire immediately struck up a conversation with her about the body jewelry.  I didn’t think much of it, and it was nice not to be in control of every last detail.  Klaire was having a good time away from the sexual aspects of her visit, and that was important, too.  “That’s a cool cigarette holder,” the girl said.  Klaire accepted the compliment without pulling out the “Duchess of Worthington” bit.  “Do you always use it when you smoke?”

“Almost always,” Klaire replied.  “Something doesn’t quite feel—right—when I have a smoke without it.  I’ve been using one for quite awhile, and, as you can probably tell, I’m British, so the extra attention doesn’t really bother me.”  Had she ever taken to that command!  I was getting excited by the thoughts running around in my head.  I was brought back to reality by Klaire’s excited, “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, there’s a store that sells them in the next block.  They’ve also got British cigarettes,” the girl continued.

“Will you show me where it is?” Klaire responded with excitement.  She looked at me.  “I’ll be right back, Rob.”  Poof!  Just like that, she was headed down the street to the local tobacco shop with her newfound friend, leaving me wondering what was going on.  It was far too public for me to have put her under and calmed her down.  She returned by herself about ten minutes later with a bag.  “You’re absolutely going to love this, Rob,” she said, eyes shining as she pulled out the long black holder.  The two holders I had gotten her were between four and five inches long, a reasonable length, but this one was at least a foot long!  Klaire smiled and said, “I think this would look good at the party, don’t you, darling?”  She tried putting a cigarette into it right away, but it fell out, and she radiated disappointment.  I told her that I would fix it so she could use it at the party, and she perked up, chattering virtually non-stop for the rest of our evening out.  I was amazed at how far my simple suggestions had gone.

She hadn’t stopped talking when we got back home.  I was, as had been the case for her entire visit to this point, excited, but only I knew what was in store for her.  “Sleepy slave, remain standing,” I said as I locked the door behind us.  I walked over to her, and began to give her her commands for the evening.  “Klaire, you will remember all of what happened tonight but it will begin to fade when the sun comes up.  As you remember, the more you try to grasp a specific image, the more it will fade, becoming ghostly images that you can’t quite recall, and this will excite you.  Eventually all you will be left with are ghostly images, except for a few random memories of the evening which will be sharp, but disjointed.”  Klaire was frozen, eyes closed, standing in the middle of the entryway.  I grabbed my digital video recorder and set it to “still” mode.  Click.  “You may open your eyes, but you are still deeply asleep.”  Click.  “Your skin needs to breathe now, Klaire, the clothes are keeping it from feeling the nice air all over.  You can let your skin feel the air it needs now, Klaire, quickly!”  I took another two shots as she undressed in trance.  “Remaining asleep, smile and wave at your husband, you can see him now far away, because you are performing, but the stage is so very far away, that he can not hear you.  Click, as Klaire smiled and waved.  She blew him a kiss.  Click.  “Excellent, Klaire.  Now the show is over and you are relaxing, calming down, and calm… very calm.  Deep, deep hypnosis, Klaire, show me the picture of a deep hypnotic trance, make yourself like the pictures on your group.”  She stopped waving and her face went blank, showing that powerfully erotic blank look that launched a million fantasies around the world.  Click.  Click.  Click again, from yet another angle.

I sat down to catch my breath and to allow my libido to subside.  She stood, hypnotized perfection, without clothes, completely unaware, totally obedient.  Klaire’s entranced state and pose were working on my self-control, and doing a good job at eroding it.  I decided that now would be a good time to upload the photos to the computer; the annoying procedure gave me a chance to focus on something other than my thrall for a while longer.  Five minutes later, and much more in control, I resumed the photo shoot.  “When I count to three, you will be transported back in time to the 1950’s.  You will be a model posing for a 1950’s-style men’s magazine.  Frontal nudity is not allowed, you cannot show your breasts, or anything but your ass.  You can only communicate your openness, your wantonness with your eyes, posture, and props.  This is the 1950’s Klaire, you should use the holder and the boa as props.  This is your display, and you may make suggestions to improve the photo shoot.  One… two… three.”  I had to stop her after the first few shots.  She had inflamed me, but I had to finish the “photo shoot.”

“I think I can use the couch to an advantage,” she said, acting out the model’s role.  “We should be able to get some very sexy shots there.”  She lit a Capri 120, and stretched, gamine, body inviting the imaginary reader.  Holder held high, dusky eyes; an exhale with a dreamy expression; standing again in a model's half-twist with an incendiary look, hair spilling over one eye.  Smoke wafting from an open mouth, one arm elegantly outstretched, holdered cigarette between lady’s fingers.  A standard cheesecake pose, bent over, marvelously pear-shaped ass pointing at the reader while standing on tiptoe.  It was too much for me.

“Back to the twenty-first century, Klaire, back into calm, relax… relax… and obey…  You are back here now, with me, your master.”

“Mas-ter,” she chorused, faraway and soft.

“You are now a slave girl, brought before her master, a good slave girl, well-schooled in the art of being a slave, as you feel the submission course through your body and mind and soul.  Deeply into submission, Klaire, this is what you are, a very good slave girl, trying to become master’s favorite.  On the count of three, you will prepare yourself for your master.”  Klaire sank gracefully to her knees, head bowed, and silent.  I stroked her hair.  “It is time you pleased me, slave.”  She did not respond, for she had not been invited to.  “Your master has needs that you will satisfy.  I wish your mouth.”  Her head raised, eyes closed, mouth forming an “O.”  She was an excellent slave, and this master’s most highly favored.  I took one last picture, then staggered to the sofa, giving my wobbly knees a rest as Klaire continued to kneel in the middle of my living room, head bowed.  This had been a good night so far, but there was more to come.  And eventually, she would, as well.  I sped my recovery by setting up the tripod and the recorder, this time in “record” mode, making sure that it was a direct feed to my computer.  I had bought a new monster hard drive for this.  Raeven could edit and disseminate or not as he chose, but this would be one of the centerpieces of Klaire’s visit, and second only to the party in three days in terms of a display of absolute submission.  Once the equipment was ready, it was time for part two of “Klaire’s Submissive Thursday.”

“Klaire, arise, eyes open, deeply hypnotized.  You can see the camera in your hypnotic trance, you know deep inside that you are being filmed, but you are powerless to stop it because you only obey my command.  You hear and obey my voice.  You have no will except mine.  Go as deeply as you must so that you only need hear and obey.  You have no will except mine.  I will ask you some questions as you face the camera, and you will be able to answer them, but you cannot otherwise react, because I do not command it, and you can only hear and obey.  You have no will except mine.  Now, face the camera.”  She woodenly obeyed as I stepped out of the frame and turned the camera on.  “What is your name?”

“Klaire.”

“Do you know where you are, Klaire?”

“In the United States.”

“How did you get here?”

“Rob hypnotized me to get on a plane.”

“And you obeyed?”

“Yes.  Rob is my master.  I must obey.”

I shut the camera off for a moment.  “Very, very good, Klaire.  Now remain standing, and close your eyes as you go into a deeper hypnosis.  So very deep, all of your will is gone.  As you go deeper, your arms become lighter until they are stretched out in front of you.  You will try to fight this and keep your arms down.  The more you fight it, the deeper you will go into hypnosis.”  Her arms twitched and then slowly began to lift.  “You are becoming a zombie, Klaire.  When your arms are parallel to the ground, the transformation will be complete.  You will fight this transformation, but a magical chant will slowly overcome your efforts at resistance.  When your arms are outstretched, your eyes will snap open, but you will have no thoughts save one, that you hear and obey, no voice unless commanded, and possess no will except your master’s, and his commands must be obeyed.  Zombie Klaire, I am that master, do you understand?”  I turned the camera on, watching her fight to keep her arms down.  “What is happening to you, Klaire?

“I am becoming a zombie.”  She swallowed loudly, fighting against the inevitable.

“Do you want to become a zombie?”

“N-n-no.  Must… fight…”  Her arms were pointing diagonally towards the floor, still climbing.

“Klaire will be a zombie soon.  Klaire will be a zombie soon,” I rhythmically began to chant.

She whispered, “No… please… I... I… I will…be… a… zombie… soon.  I… will… be a zombie… soon.  I will be… a zombie soon.  I will be a zombie soon…”  Klaire began to repeat her mantra and her arms quickly raised the remainder of the way.  Her eyes popped open.

“Zombie Klaire, what is your will?  Speak,” I imperiously pronounced.

“I-have-no-will,” she robotically answered.

“What is your sole thought?  Speak.”

“I hear… and I obey.”

“Repeat.”

“I hear and I obey.”  I said again, because watching and listening to this was making me hard again.  “I hear and I obey.”  I made her say it a few more times; this was selfish foreplay.

“Excellent, my zombie slave.  You are to go to the bedroom where you will undress, and then lay down, on the bed awaiting your master.  Go, do my bidding.”  Led by her arms, Klaire took careful, halting steps around the corner and vanished into the bedroom.  I shut the equipment down, verified that I had indeed put it onto my hard drive, and then moved it to the bedroom.  Act two had been completed, although I did take a couple of photos as she lay on the bed, naked, eyes vacant and open, arms pointed at the ceiling.  “Zombie, speak your sole thought.”  More foreplay as I set up the camera in the bedroom for the denouement.

“I hear and I obey,” she said, clearly as each of the other times, putting a little more starch in my shorts.  I made her recite her mantras a few more times.  “I have no will except master’s.  I hear and I obey.”  I started the camera to catch her in that state for a few seconds, making sure that I was getting the audio clearly.  I stopped recording.  “Silence.”  Her zombie babbling instantly ceased.  “Klaire, I am going to reverse the magical spell by counting from ten to one.  Your arms will relax with each number, and your eyes will slowly close, as you relax, and go limp, closing your eyes to go back into deep hypnosis, the zombie spell will end at one, and you will be asleep, deeply entranced, ready to accept my suggestions, because you know that I will keep you safe.  When the spell ends, you will say, ‘I am ready to obey you, Rob.  My body and mind are yours,’ to signify that you know you are free from the zombie spell.”

At “one,” her soft voice said, “I am ready to obey you, Rob.  My body and mind are yours.”  The thrill that I felt made me remove my clothing to accommodate the bulge.  Time for part three.

“Klaire, I will give you suggestions that you will follow until you hear me say, ‘show’s over.’  You will not remember these suggestions with your conscious mind, but you will follow them, without knowing why, or being able to resist them.  “Do you understand?”

“Yesssssss…”  She licked her lips, and I thought I could detect a note of sexual arousal in the soft reply.

“When you hear me say the name of a body part such as hips or legs or arms, you will watch my hand motions, and that part of your body will follow those hand motions.  You will not know why, nor will you be able to stop it.  When I say, ‘locked’ as that part of your body is moving, it will stop, frozen in place as if you were bound by a very strong steel band.  You will not be able to move it unless I say that body part’s name and move my hands to change the position.  You will remember this command in your secret place, and obey it awake or asleep.  You will feel everything that happens to you but you will not be able to release the sensations until I release your body by saying, ‘show’s over.’  Do you understand completely?”

“Yesss, mass-terrr.”  I inhaled sharply.  There was something about an entranced Klaire that just went straight to my libido.

“You will awaken at the count of three, feeling refreshed, alert, and unaware of the commands that you have just received.  You will not remember having been given them, but you body will obey, despite what your conscious mind may tell it to do.  One… two… three.”

Klaire sat up and blinked.  “Did you really film me as a zombie?” was the first thing out of her mouth.  “I remember coming inside and you locked the door… and then you said something… and I was… I was… taking my clothes off.  Then I… something…  A slave girl,” she said with definite pride at being able to recall it.  “I was on my knees and you… you…”  Her face scrunched, showing a little annoyance at not being able to summon the exact images.  “It was quite exciting, because I do know I was powerless to stop any of it.”  She looked around the room and then at me, semi-erection indicating what was brewing in my mind.  “May I have a smoke, Rob?  Will you fix my new cigarette holder?”  She batted her eyelashes at me in a gesture that we both knew was unnecessary.

“No, Klaire,” I said, as she was running her hands through her hair.  She gave me a very surprised look as I said, “Arms,” and I moved my arms downward towards the floor.  Her eyes went wide as her hands shot downward, palms on the bed.  “Locked.”  She tried to move them, but she was quite stuck.

“What… what—?”

“Legs,” I interrupted, and made a scissoring gesture.  Her legs snapped shut.  She went to change this and looked at me with a little bit of fear as she couldn’t.  “Mouth, dear,” I smiled, forming a circle with my hands and triumphantly adding, “locked.”  I stood on the bed in front of her, perfectly positioned.  This was more one-sided foreplay.  And Klaire could only sit there and watch as I used her.  She quickly figured out that I hadn’t locked her hips or her upper torso, and began to move, disturbing my efforts at foreplay.  “Butt,” I said, pulling back and pushing my palms downward.  “Locked.  Hips,” I said, placing my hands parallel, “locked.”  Now she was locked in place, and I could resume my usage of her not-so-willing mouth.  The efforts she made to dislodge me with her tongue were actually quite pleasant.  I pulled back, erection full blossom.  “Arms.”  I waved skyward.  Her arms raised skyward and were then locked.  She tried to squirm, but there wasn’t much she could do, and her mouth was still formed in that enticing tunnel, so she couldn’t speak very well.  “Torso,” I softly said, and made a pushing motion towards her.  She lay down, arms splayed to either side above her head, and she was locked.  “This is hypno-bondage, Klaire, and no matter how much you try to fight it, you can’t move,” I said, breathlessly.  Her eyes were wide, and she was beginning to flush.  “You know what’s next.”  The flush deepened around her breasts.  “Legs,” I said, spreading my arms wide.  “And locked.”  She was spread-eagled, bound without physical restraint.  I dove in, making Klaire pant and moan, trying to beg for release as I burrowed between her thighs.  She could not stop me from taking this pleasure.  Satisfied that I had taken to the edge, I made her raise her legs high, and took my ultimate pleasure.  Immobilized, mannequin-like, she was a living sex doll, one who could feel everything, and do nothing.  At the finish, I lay on top of her, spent, exhausted, but with enough energy to rouse myself for one final command.  “Show’s over.”

Released from her psychic bonds, her body stiffened and jerked once sharply before her hips shot towards the ceiling.  She was having a hurricane of an orgasm, crying, thrashing, turning very red, all without being touched.  As orgasms go, this one lasted a long time, as her body reacted to all the stimuli it had been unable to respond to in time.  She finally collapsed on the bed with a loud huff, her eyes open, rolling around loosely, her body very still.  I shut of the camera, gave her a kiss on the cheek, causing a small aftershock, climbed into bed next to her and turned out the lights.

Both of us were very sore the next morning.  And starving, because everything was secondary to food.  “You filmed it all, didn’t you?” she finally asked after breakfast.  I nodded.  “What are you going to do with that?”

“I’m going to keep one copy for private, personal use.  It’s up to you what you want done with the original,” I said.  “I promised that there would be a record of your U.S. submission, and this is part of it.  There will be more, dear.  But it’s your property, and I swear that if it is ever distributed, it will not be by my hand.  By the same token, I think I deserve something to remember this by as well.”

She smiled weakly.  “I’ve put myself in your hands for another five days…”

“And I will always keep you out of harm’s way.  I am far too enamored of you to let anything happen.  As long as you choose to be Kinky Klaire, hypnobabe, I will always be a fan.”

She gave me a peck on the cheek.  “Erm—Rob—is it all right if I have a cigarette?  Can I have one without—erm—starting something?  I’m rather exhausted.”  I assured her that I was too, but I took a few pictures of the holder-smoking babe anyway.  She blushed.  “I’m sooo flattered by your attention and the lengths you’ve gone on my behalf.”  I looked at her as if she had lost her mind.  “I know that you’re having fun, too,” she cooed.  “And thinking about last night—” she inhaled loudly.  “—At least what I can remember of it, does give me a bit of a sizzle, even in my currently drained state.”

It was a very low-key day, at least until I fixed the holder so her Virginia Slims 120’s wouldn’t fall out.  She had a great deal of fun posing and posturing with it, letting me take pictures, and then in the afternoon, she dressed in her glamorous outfit, and postured and posed some more.  After the second set of pictures had been downloaded, she had another cigarette in the long black holder, sending me into a mild state of need.  She took care of it during her final smoke of the night, without command or prompting.  “I like being sexy for you, master,” she purred, as she made me howl with delight.  “And yes, I’m excited, too, but I’m still a little stiff and would rather not play tonight—if my master would be so kind.”  I agreed quite happily.


This story copyright © 2002-20045, The Flying Pen


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