Nadia Nightside's Best of 2015

by Nadia Nightside

  “Yes, Sir. I respect you deeply.”

  Her voice eminently calm. Almost a monotone except for the soft, breathy pleasure in every syllable.

  “Every time you call me Sir, you’ll feel yourself respecting me more and more. More than anyone you can recall. You know that my authority is right and good.”

  “Right and good. Yes, Sir. I respect you so very, very much.”

  If he gave her a chance to respond, or indicated that he wanted a response, she would respond. Interesting. But what if he just wanted to actually trance her—like he had tranced all those patients of his before? Would she be able to sit through a full induction?

  “I want you to imagine yourself in a house, Tasia. You don’t need to talk for this unless I ask you for a response. You just need to listen and obey. Respecting my voice. Following my voice. Everything I’m saying, you’re seeing and feeling. It’s all so very real. You’re in a house—your house. You’re alone there, even though you can hear my voice. And you trust my voice. The house is furnished with all your thoughts. All your worries. All your stresses and responsibilities. They take the form of regular objects, but you know them for what they are. Can you see it?”

  “Yes.”

  His cock was hard. Why was his cock hard?

  Because you can make this beautiful woman beg to fuck you until the day she dies, stupid.

  Oh. Right.

  A real induction didn't work like this, of course. It took repetition, calming sounds, the right environment, deep trust in the hypnotherapist, and lots and lots of emphasis on relaxation. It took years of practice and hours in sessions to get as deep as Tasia had gone in an instant. And all because of the watch.

  “You’re going to stuff each object in a box outside the house, Tasia. Each and every object. All your stress from work. All your stress from driving. All your stress from living. All your stress from your husband’s death. It all goes in the box outside. Each and every last object. Everything on the walls. Every bit of carpet. Every last piece of furniture. Is it there?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. Now I want you to watch the box. It’s a void, can you see that? Outside your house, your mind, there’s only a void. Black. Empty. And you can see the box fly away, farther and farther gone, until it blips into nothingness. All gone. All that stress. Totally, irrevocably, gone forever. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Sir” she moaned.

  He reached forward and felt her shoulders, her thighs. There was no tension in them whatsoever. No stress. No effort.

  “Who do you have to thank for that, Tasia?”

  “You, Sir.”

  “That’s right. I relieved you of all your problems. Now, I want you to look back into the house. There’s new furnishings, now. Better ones. Better pictures on the walls, of you and me together. You can see them. Better plates in the kitchen. Better carpet on the floors. Better paint on the walls. You can see it all. And it’s all better because it’s made from obedience to my Will. It’s formed from the pleasure of knowing my thoughts, knowing my wants, doing what I say. Doesn’t that make perfect sense, Tasia?”

  She licked her lips slowly. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Pick up a vase, there on the counter. Can you feel how it’s made from obedience? Pleasure? Can you feel how it’s crafted at the atomic level from the sick, hot, perfect thrill you get when you suck my cock and take my cum into your stomach?”

  What the fuck was he doing? Why couldn't he stop himself? His cock was in his hands now. One hand stroking, one hand swinging the watch. He was so furiously turned on. Precum shot out, sliding over his cockhead and lubricating his strokes.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Put the vase down. Sit down in the couch. Lay back. It’s made from knowing I am your Master. This is an entire room in your house, as a matter of fact. Knowing that I am your Master. That you are my slave. That you can never disobey me. You can never leave me. You will never hurt me or make me sad. You will do everything in your power to surround me in pleasure at all times, won’t you Tasia?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He took her hand and wrapped it around his exposed cock. “Do you feel that, Tasia? Do you feel how hard I am for you?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “This is the foundation of your house. Your mind. Your thoughts. Your will. It is my cock, and my cock alone. No one else’s. Ever. Not before or after this moment have you or will you desire another cock in your life. This is it. This is the only. The one and only cock that you need, that you worship, that you love with your entire heart. It makes you so deliriously happy to know this. To understand this. It fills your heart with joy. Isn’t that right?”

  She choked back a joyous sob, her smile permanent. “Y-Yes, Master!”

  He stopped swinging the watch now, putting it back in his pocket. Tasia stroked him slow, her face empty of all thought, all purpose except for her new Master's.

  “Make me cum, Tasia. Make me cum like the good little servant you are.”

  Her hand worked up and down fast, faster, faster. He was so close already.

  Pleasure thrummed through his body. He was going to explode. “Fuck...fucking...suck me off. Suck it down, Tasia. Suck down my cum.”

  “Y-yesss, Master!”

  Her mouth wrapped around his throbbing, squirting shaft, taking hot spurts of his precious jizz across her face before finally slurping down completely on his shaft.

  Come down from the high of arousal and power, he saw Tasia in front of him for what seemed like the first time.

  The worship in her eyes. The open, heavy arousal.

  Slowly, he raised up the watch, about to hypnotize her again. To undo all of it. He’d gone too far. All that stuff about obeying only him, never leaving him...god, he was as transparent as could be.

  But she stopped him, licking her lips as she looked at the watch.

  “You want to give it to me again, Master?”

  Her beautiful, silky voice was an indulgence. One he never wanted to let go of.

  “I...no.” He shook his head. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

  “What’s next, Master?”

  The question terrified him. Like he had found a bag full of millions of dollars in the middle of a war torn country. There was nothing but possibility in front of him, when less than an hour before he’d had nothing.

  * * * * *

  An hour later, he returned to City Grounds. It was deserted. It was just after lunch, and everyone had returned to their jobs. There was only one other patron, and he was passed out—a drunk probably—with his earphones over his head, leaning hard against the window.

  He’d told Tasia to return all his things to his workshop, giving her the address and a key. And then he’d taken her car—which he now knew was his car, whether he had intended that or not—and drove to clear his head.

  With Tasia, his boner got the best of him. It made him go deeper, farther, harder than he would have thought to do in the first place.

  But did Warren have to go that far? He had to investigate. He’d been given the keys to the entire kingdom of pussy.

  And yes, it was pussy on his mind. Pussy and money. He could have both. As much as he wanted. There was little standing in his way. He’d just have to make sure he was discreet. Quiet.

  And then he’d take his life back, one woman at a time. What would Joan think, he thought with a cruel smile, once he transformed her into his perfect little French maid? Maybe he’d give her some trigger word to let her know what was what. Who would be kicking who out of who’s life then?

  God, to see that beautiful face of hers beg...

  But. Experiments first. Make sure. One experiment was just being out and away from Tasia for this long. He’d had to make sure that his influence could last on her. Every twenty minutes, she texted him on his cellphone.

  His phone buzzed, right on time:

  I love you, Master. You’re my Everything.

  And he didn’t have to text back a thing. That wa
s power. The ability to ignore social convention? Oh yes, power indeed.

  At the counter of the coffee shop was the same barista from yesterday.

  “Empty,” he said.

  “Yeah,” she nodded, shrugging. “Boss is on break for an hour. It’s just me and the coffee, basically.”

  Fuck, but she was cute. Short red hair and a freckled face. A sort of girl-next-door type. The kind of deliciously lovely girl who would be best friends with Warren, but never truly want to bang him. He always attracted a darker, more virulently sexual kind of woman. The sort who wanted to fuck him as much as she wanted to fuck him over. It was a tight tug of war, and for the most part, he liked that.

  Before seeing the barista, Warren wasn't sure exactly why he was here. But now he knew. He was a slave to his subconscious—and soon, this girl would be too.

  He ordered his coffee and asked her to bring it to him when it was ready. She huffed and agreed. Apparently, she had no recollection of seeing him the day before. He found a seat near the back, away from the front door and any windows. There was a back room with several card tables. The coffee shop hosted board game nights from time to time.

  She arrived with the coffee after a few minutes.

  “Anything else?”

  With the implicit caveat in her tone—there better not be.

  “Oh, yes. Let me tip you.”

  Her face lit up for a moment, and he pulled out the watch from his pocket.

  Instantly, her face slackened. He led her down to the seat and slowly began to massage her palm with his fingers, still swaying the watch all the while.

  Blunt force. That was the method here.

  “You’re desperate to suck my cock. Truly, completely desperate. You can’t explain it, but you don’t care. You know that, unless you suck me off and swallow every last drop of my cum, you’re going to go insane. It turns you on more than you can comprehend. You know you’ll only need to do it once to be satisfied forever. For the rest of your life. Your body is on fire with lust right now just imagining it. Your pussy dripping. Your nipples growing ever more erect. Your mouth salivating. Needing it. You need—absolutely need—to cum. You’re starving for it, like you would be starving for food after not eating for two days straight. You know the only way you’ll ever cum again, just for now, is if you suck my cock. You don’t much care if I say yes or no. You know you’ll have to take it even if I won’t let you. The second I snap my fingers, you’re going to be fully aware of all of this, but you won’t remember my watch or question why you feel this way. When I snap my fingers afterward, you'll forget about everything we did.”

  Smiling, Warren tucked the watch away. Her face followed it, pouting just slightly as it disappeared into his jacket. Then, he snapped his fingers.

  The barista’s eyes lit up slowly. Embers of lust heating and then blazing hard.

  “Hi.” She said, pushing the table over. It spread out into the dining area, knocking over a few other chairs. “Hi. Hi. I’m...hi.”

  She was between his legs now. Her hands sliding up and over his thighs. She took in a deep, sucking breath, eyes wild.

  “I need to...I need...I n-need...”

  She was having trouble speaking without drooling. She licked constantly, but the saliva slipped down past her plush lips and over her tits, soaking into her blouse.

  “Hey now,” he said, quite amused. “What’s all this?”

  He continued to paw at his zipper, trying to get it open. “Please, pleeaseee...”

  Her mouth came forward, surging onto his crotch, biting gently to pull away the fabric.

  She was too turned on to think, he realized. Not even able to operate a zipper.

  Her voice became very small. “Please.”

  Warren smiled and unzipped and unbuckled his pants. “Go right ahead, my dear.”

  “Thank you!”

  She lunged into his crotch, tearing down his pants roughly. Her young mouth slurped over his knob, taking it all the way into her mouth. Very quickly, he was hard and just along for the ride. She pushed all of herself into the sucking, practically fucking her own mouth with his cock. He felt almost like a living dildo.

  Moaning, her feet scrambling every which way, she continued to slurp and slobber, kissing and worshiping his cock with everything she had. Tight, warm suction surrounded his dick. Her tits spread out over his legs, and his hands pushed deep into her hair and back.

  It was the most enthusiastic, hot, passionate cocksucking session he had ever had in his life.

  No one was watching. No one saw. It was just him and her. Her moans became more and more intense, and Warren struggled to maintain his level of arousal. Fuck, he could cum right down her throat. Right down her pretty little throat, and she would thank him for the privilege.

  She would have to thank him. She had been commanded to thank him.

  “Fuck me,” he grunted, squirming in the seat. “Gonna cum, babe. Gonna fucking...give you my load, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—”

  His seed erupted down into her, spraying against the back of her mouth and sliding heavily down her throat. As he came, she came, hips bucking, tears of joy streaming down her face, as she sucked his load down.

  Slowly, almost sad, she kissed his cock and licked it clean, until she had taken all of his available taste into her mouth.

  “Thank you,” she moaned. “Thank you so, SO much.”

  She began to kiss his hands, and then his feet, still crying out tears of gratitude. Like he had saved her life, or bought her back the home where she grew up.

  Warren stood up, leaving her in a pleasure-filled mess on the floor. She giggled, asking him where he was going. But he saw no reason to let her know.

  Behind him, the back corner of the restaurant was in disarray. The tables overturned. The chairs broken from the barista’s kicks of overwhelming pleasure.

  The barista stood up, as if to follow him, and he snapped his fingers once again. She stood in a daze, her mind slowly returning to her. So, he thought pleasantly, the rough ‘n tumble method works pretty well.

  Outside, returning to his car, he called Tasia.

  “Hello, Master!” she breathed deeply, clearly hyperventilating. “How can I...what can I...I love you so much, baby. So much. Oh, god, oh Master...”

  “Shush, doll. Calm down.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  The struggling sounds she made to obey his orders and contain her pleasure sent electricity through his spine.

  “I have something very specific to ask you. What have you got in the way of sexy clothing?”

  Her breathy, aroused sounds instantly became giggly and excited.

  * * * * *

  “And that’s that. Don’t you think, Miss Durant?”

  Slowly, Rebecca’s mind returned to her. In front of her was a man. A handsome, handsome man. Incredibly so. The most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on in her entire life. The most handsome man anyone had ever laid eyes on, ever.

  “Yes,” she said thoughtfully, her fingers sliding up to her lips. “Yes, quite right. I think so. Though please, call me Rebecca.”

  She had no idea what she was agreeing to. It could have been anything.

  “So the Performing Arts Grant. You’ll set it up for me?”

  Leaning forward, she hoped that her breasts were on display for him. It was very important that he find her attractive. Otherwise, she might never fuck him.

  God, he might even leave the office without fucking her. That was unacceptable. She stood up, sliding around her desk, and crossed her legs languidly at the front. She lifted one leg so that it rested on his, her heel gently digging into the flesh of his thigh. The heel was a modest three-inches—certainly not out-of-line for a bank manager.

  In fact, her entire outfit was rather appropriate attire for a young woman running a bank.

  It was funny. At the back of her mind, she thought she had worn a pantsuit today. Yes. Gray, the jacket with a dark blue trim. And her hair had been collected in a bundle
at the top of her head.

  Now she had on a tight, tiny little blue dress. Her heels were fabulously ornate, with tiny leather straps sliding over her delicate, sexy feet. Her hands were decorated with lace gloves, each one tied off with little puffs of string.

  But that was...that was what she had worn all day. Wasn’t it?

  Of course it is. You were born to dress this way. There’s no better way for a beautiful woman like you to look.

  She was a beautiful woman, she thought smugly. Even at thirty-four and a bank manager, everyone always was stunned by her beauty. Deep, gorgeous chestnut-colored hair. Large breasts, still plump and lusciously fertile. Deep, dark eyes. A face that melted hearts. She was lovely, and she knew it. She loved being beautiful, because it meant that men like this one—whatever his name was, and oh god it was probably the most perfect, most handsome name ever—found her attractive enough to fuck.

  “Mrs. Durant?”

  She smiled at him. This handsome, perfect man. So gorgeous. Fuck. She couldn’t even quantify what it was about him. In fact, she didn’t even know his name.

  “Oh yes. It’s yours. Completely. Mister...?”

  She gave him an embarrassed smile. How the fuck could she not know his name? His perfect, perfect, incredible name? It would have to be at least as perfect as the rest of him. At the least. In response, he slid his hand up her calf. Rebecca rolled her head back in orgasmic pleasure, instantly cumming from his touch.

  His phone dinged. He looked at it briefly, and then put it down.

  “I don’t think that’s all that important, do you?”

  Cumming wildly just from his touch, she could offer no counter-argument.

  In no time, she was bent over on the desk, and his cock was driving wildly into her volcanically hot slit. She could not scream—she knew that she couldn't—but she desperately wanted to. It was the best fuck she had ever had in her entire life. He filled her. He made her whole. She was complete. He was her reason for being. His cock, so hard and huge, rammed again and again into her tight hot snatch while she had her forearms down in front of her computer.

  On one edge of the desk, his phone dinged again. She saw all the messages of the past several minutes. From someone named Tasia: