whatever. go my scarab

She shrugged off her bag, hung it on a hook next to the doors. The receptionist nodded gently, and left. The doors remained unlocked. A buzz sounded from the ceiling, panels withdrawing, revealing a curved screen the size of a bed that descended to rest about 10 feet above the chair. “Please undress" flashed across it. 

She shivered her way out of her clothes, peeling off her underwear gingerly, trying briefly to cover herself, but why bother?

A door on the far side of the room opened as she finished folding her clothes, and her online date strolled in, smiling pleasantly. Her mouth fell open. “y-? But you were? I thought you were a recruiter?” she could feel the conflict building in her. On one hand, she'd really liked him. On the other,  wasn't this suspicious, unethical? Then again, wasn't it all?

His smile grew a little smug. “No. No I'm actually one of the lead technicians here. You were just telling me of your financial troubles over dinner, and even with the little you told me,  I knew I couldn’t solve them through my own generosity.”

Her face grew redder. 'Good job on that one,  he pitied you enough to recommend this place, how pathetic you must have looked....'  

He strode forward confidently, voice lowering to a dangerous hum. “I'll admit I requested to work on you. I did, after all, quite enjoy our date.”

“You know who I am,” she choked out in halfhearted protest, backing away slowly, hesitantly. He'd actually liked her? Or did he just want to torture her. Not that, if it had gone well on the next date, she'd have said no to some torture... but alone, in her home, safe...

“Not by the end of the night, as I’m sure Anya told you. I only remember you now because we met in our personal lives.”

“W… why…”

“You can always say no. Tell me you're uncomfortable, request a new technician. This situation is very unusual, they won’t blame you at all.”

“… why do you use OKCupid if you can do this?”

He stopped in his tracks, blinked, and laughed. “I’m still a single straight guy. Do you expect me to kidnap all the girls I like, drag them here, wipe their minds,  make them mine by force and coercion?”

She winced, embarrassed, but, even more humiliatingly, for multiple reasons. 

“Or,” he growled, moving forward again, this time leaning towards her, over her, “did you just hope that's what I would do to you?”

She swallowed, breathing labored, stomach clenching, but there was warmth now, somewhere it was becoming harder to ignore. He was close now, and she was backed into a corner. 

He touched her for the first time, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “You know what Red means, don't you?”

“Yes" hissed out her lips before her mind could decide if it was a good idea.

“Good.” He grabbed her by the throat, slamming her up against the wall. "Not that I would expect anything less. I saw your face when I told you about this. You were excited. You tried to hide it, under all that incredulity, but your eyes dilated so wonderfully." His hand moved over her chest, lightly, delicately, dragging downward. A sound escaped her, half protest half moan. Did she want this? Did she not?

He was dragging her, hand still at her throat, over to that chair... unconsciously she fought back, digging her heels in, and he turned to her with danger in his eyes, stopped moving, and glared. Slowly, his hand unclenched, releasing her, and he stood waiting. She didnt move. He stepped back, and she, agonizingly, stepped forward. The smug grin returned, dark and hot and terrifying. "Good girl," he purred, his hand moving now to the back of her neck, guiding her.

She hadn't known what she'd expected, but it hadn't included being... into it? She'd thought she'd be numb, discomfited but tolerant, like at a gyno appointment, until she fell into some kind of sleep like haze, becoming a zombie that fucked on command. But he was strapping her in, her arms, her legs, ankles, adjusting the chair so it pushed her pelvis up, spread her limbs into an X, all her joints supported but immobilized, and it felt... really hot. Like how she'd fantasized, but solid and heavy with reality. 

He trailed a hand down her belly, stretched taut by the chair, and she shivered. His fingers moved lower, hovering on her mons. "You're already so pliant," he teased, and there was a strange reassurance in the smirking, nearly sing-song tone of his voice. Like it was fun, she realized. All just fun. "I could SEE how wet you were with your legs closed. Now..."

One of his fingers trailed over her clit, and she gasped. "Soaked already and I've barely begun. What will you be when we really dig into you?" He pulled a small remote out of the pocket of his slacks, and the room darkened as the screen began flashing a series of bright and disorienting patterns. As he moved behind her, her whole field of vision was eclipsed by the screen, and the restraints prevented her from turning her head away. It wasn't bright enough to hurt, just bright enough to command her attention and send her head spinning. 

"This, of course, won't be enough to melt your mind on its own," came that fucking voice from behind her, lowering until she could feel his breath in her ear. "But you know that, don't you? Tell me, how many times have you been hypnotized?"

Her cheeks seared, illuminated by the flickering light of the screen. "I don't know," she murmured, voice thin and nervous and aroused. "T-too many to count... I was in a relationship for a while... b-but they were always too nervous to..."

"To push?" He supplied, taunting, leering. "To dig into that pretty head of yours and tear your thoughts out? To truly melt you into oblivion, empty you, unravel you, overwhelm you with pleasure and fear until you gave in? What a shame. They missed such a good opportunity; you're so beautifully easy. "

Before she could even formulate a reply beyond trembling, his fingers returned to her sex, moving faster until her hips were bucking against the restraints. "Look at you. Already wordless, just taking what I give you, already lost."

"I-it takes more than just... a little edging..." she protested, trying to hold herself together. 

"And a little teasing. A little reminding you what you are. What I saw in your wide, glassy eyes when I told you this could happen to you. A little flashing, rhythmic light. A few straps. A chair. Your leaking, desperate cunt. So many tiny little things. But they add up. Don't they? You pretty little drone."

She would have responded, but a series of stimuli came in rapid succession that utterly undid her retort. His hand dipped low, in, and the external stimulation was replaced with the all encompassing hum of a wand. What actually emerged from her mouth was a yelp, primal and desperate, that extended into a keen as his fingers curled up and found the swollen bundle of nerves against her pubic bone. 

"What was that?" He mocked. "An elegant retort? I remember from our date how articulate you are. Where is that wit, darling? Are you really so easily malleable?"

Speakers, hidden in the cushioning by her head, started throbbing a low tone. She felt her heartbeat match the rhythm of the tone, and echo in her cunt. The screen pulsed in time. Only his hand broke the pattern, and her mind spiraled into the dizzying myriad of sensation.

His fingers withdrew, and she felt something long and velvety, slick with lube, slide into her. And move. Move. Move. It followed the pattern that was undoing her so completely, but was slowly building speed. Hands, soft and dry and smelling of lavender soap, rested on her temples a moment later. 

"N-nice," she moaned out, soft but beginning, she thought, to understand what to expect, "but you can't keep this up forever. I'll get numb s-soon if I, ah, cum..."

"You think?" Said the voice above her, laughing and oddly tender.

"Y-yeah..."

"Well that's your problem." A click of the remote, and all stimuli picked up pace, building intensity so that she was tipping over the edge.  "You think."

The orgasm ripped through her, the lights flared, and his hands pressed, one to the center of her forehead, one to the point on her belly where the dildo bulged in and out. The word "sleep" hissed into her, and she fell into oblivion. 

Her eyes flickered open, blearily aware of the voice still there. Had always been there. 

She became aware immediately after of a frankly uncharacteristic burning between her legs, a need that was somehow being stoked, not relieved, by the continuous but slow machinations of the dildo moving slickly in and out of her. The voice had moved around to between her legs, then grown silent. 

"WhhhaaaaaaaAAHN!" she tried to ask, before she felt a tongue drag across her clit. Flick down. Up. Drag again. She whimpered, trying to grind into the feeling further, to no avail. He just continued his maddening pace. "What'd you do to me?" She managed, but immediately upon speaking, the tongue stopped, dildo slowed. She received no answer, and after a beat of silence the stimulation returned. 

"AAAAHHHN COME OOOON," she screamed, and once again was met by slowing pace and agonizing frustration, and no answer. 

"PLEASE, just teeeeeAAAAAAHHHH!" immediately upon uttering 'please,' the dildo had turned up in speed, lips had closed around her hood and a tongue had lashed at her clit, until she came hard enough for her head to reel, at which point the screen and speakers had turned back on, and swallowed her mind into darkness. 

Again she came to, the words dull and soft in her ears, the thoughts dull and soft in her head, and the burning arousal if anything more potent, but there was no movement to soothe or enhance it.

"Please," she whimpered to the darkness, where the voice had come from, circling her like a stalking animal. "Please please pleasepleaseplease."

A laugh floated towards her, the dildo moving once, slowly, mockingly. "You’re a quick learner, but no, not this time. Try harder, dear."

"Please m-make it stop let me come t-tell me what you're-"

"Now darling drone," he purred "do you really think that will convince me? That that is what I want to hear?"

"I don't care whaaAAA!" A sharp crack of a slap against her cunt scrambled her mind for a moment. 

"You'll care," he said simply. "People care about things that affect them."

"You fucking- OW FUCK!"

"None of the words you're telling me are colors, dear, which means unless they please me, I don't have to and won't pay them any mind." A third hit caught her clitoral hood, and the pain mingled with the pressing soreness of arousal.

"What the fuck do you want to hear?" She snapped, but it sounded petulant and futile even to her.

A fourth slap. "Let's start with manners. You had 'please' before. Let's try more social niceties. Can you think of any?"

"I'm not gonna say 'thank you' for hitting me! OW, FUCK YOU. OW!!!"

"Darling I adore your foul mouth and vitriol, I do, but we're up to 6 slaps now and I really don't want you to go numb. You have, I believe, 2 orgasms at this point to thank me for. And since you've been so rude, PLEASE make it a... profound... 'thank you. '"

She fumed. Her cunt was so sore. She didn't want to thank him. She didn't want to get smacked again. She settled for bitter silence. 

It didn't last long. The unmistakable feel of a soft paintbrush flitted across her fingers, up her arm, and into her exposed armpit. She shrieked, wordless agonized mirth, thrashing as the brush moved over her sternum, circled her nipples, and dipped into her navel.

"None of that sounds like a 'thank you,' even a basic one," he mused, twirling the brush in circles as she fruitlessly tried to wriggle away. "Here, let me remind you." He rested his free hand on her hips, pushing back her clitoral hood with a thumb, and removed the brush from her belly, gliding it feather-light over her exposed clit. The soft bristles encased the flesh, but produced almost no friction. She felt herself twitch involuntarily. 

"You'll have to forgive me," he apologized insincerely as he flicked the brush gently over and over her. "I know almost nothing of the technique of using a brush. I believe that's your area of expertise, yes? Maybe you could give some pointers."

"Pleeeeeease, stooooooop," she wailed, voice raw.

"And leave you all desperate and aroused with no way to assuage your lust? Why would I just passively stand by and let that happen, when I could be doing this, as an active participant?"

"FINE, THANK YOU. THERE. PLEASE!"

"Well that's 1 thank you for 2 orgasms, and as thanks go it was honestly not convincing. Here, maybe this one on your clit and another on your torso will help, you do seem very sensitive..."

"AH GODS FUCK THANK YOU FOR LETTING MY CUM TWICE JESUS CHRIST WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT?"

"I think right now the question is more, 'what will you give?'"

"THAT'S NOT FAIR I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU WAAAAAAA-!" the brush on her clit had moved lower, tickling her swollen folds, as a tongue replaced it, just as gentle and teasing.

"Let's start, " he muttered between arrhythmic flicks, "with some proper priorities. You'd say those orgasms were intense, yes?"

"Yyyeeeessss...."

"And that intensity was proportionate to your level of arousal at the time, yes?"

"Yessssss."

"And this level of arousal is beyond your normal level, and has been building the whole time you've been in this room, yes?"

"....yes..."

"So it stands to reason the conditioning I have been giving you, and I have indeed been giving it, has been responsible for this arousal, yes?"

"Yes..."

"So you should really be thanking me, not for the orgasms, but for the arousal that led to them, wouldn't you agree?"

"I.... guess.... fuck, yesssss..."

"So thank me for the arousal, then. You've already thanked me for the orgasms. It's really just an amendment."

"Thankyouforthearousal." "Good girl. Do you want more?"

"Fucking YES."

"Wanting is petty though. It doesn't convince me. Do you NEED more?"

"YeeeeEEEESSS PLEASE!"

"You need this pleasure?"

"YES."

"This pleasure you have no control of?"

"YES!"

"This pleasure that is the most intense,  most desperate you've felt?"

"YEEEEEESSSSSS!!"

"It feels intensely pleasurable to give up control of your pleasure, doesn't it?"

"YESSYESYES..."

"It certainly makes you more agreeable. Tell you what. Say 'yes, Sir,' and I'll literally fuck your brains out. Just fuck you until your mind melts out of your head from the pleasure. Sound like a fair trade?"

"Yessssssssss.. "

"Yes what?"

"Yes... Sir..."

She felt his cock, his real cock, slam into her, and the wand press against her clit, and he was fucking her harder than anything she could remember, which was admittedly not much right now, and as her muscles clenched in the first spasms of orgasm she heard a click and the screen was on, and she was cumming and falling into the screen into oblivion but she was still there, also, somehow, and he was still fucking her and speaking and telling her about how there were words, now, that formed shortcuts to her arousal, controlled her pleasure, that he could say, and different, equally powerful things she could say...

She came again, and his words took on a dreamlike quality. Trance was a lot like dreams. In dreams you were still you, you were just acting along a plot your subconscious provided for you. You heard and said things that made sense in that context, and it was all safe and fine, because she could always wake up if it got dangerous or painful, but right now it just felt so good. She came again.

She was saying things back now. Dreams were like that sometimes; you said and did a lot of stuff that made sense in the dream, but when you woke up it was all hazy and funny feeling, but that was ok. If it was important to remember, her subconscious would show her when she needed.  It felt good to just say what she needed and not worry or care. Really good. So good. Cumming again...

All she remembered was pleasure, comfort, safety. She knew all she needed to keep floating here, cumming, sinking, was to let her mind get on with doing whatever it was directed, outside her conscious concern. She knew all this, of course, innately, because words were beyond her, an effort she could no longer even comprehend. 

Eventually, one of the orgasms tipped her mind over into a trance so profound, she stopped feeling the pleasure that continued to radiate through her limp and empty body. 

He knew she was gone when he saw her eyelids relax, her brow lose even minute tension. Finally, he allowed himself his own climax, pulling out so as not to have to clean ejaculate out of her, for fear of causing discomfort. He wiped them down of fluids, and went to cradle her head gently in his fingertips.

"You are blank, empty, and blissful, isn't that right?"

She gave a soft moan, the lilt of her voice indicating the affirmative. 

"It feels good to be blank, empty, and blissful, isn't that right?"

Another moan. 

"What do you want to be?"

A pause, a second or two too long. The word hissed from her slightly parted lips, quiet and sibilant, but unmistakable. "Yoursssss...."

He blinked, feeling suddenly unsteady. In his 5 or so years as a technician, this had never happened. Sure, they would call him honorifics, offer him services, exaggerated behaviors built on play and opportunity, after he'd personalized their programming a little. But never offer to be... his. Even negotiating ownership relationships with clients was a dicey, delicate affair, and the more intense the fantasy, the more carefully vetted the participants. 

"Elaborate," he managed, voice a little more jarred than he would have liked.

"I like how you talk and think. You have good hypnotic technique. You make me feel a good mix of safe and scared. I don't want to be rented to a stranger. I want to be yours, " came the reply, soft, but pragmatic as only the speaking subconscious could be.

He didn't know what to do. She hadn't exactly Reded, but it was close to good as in terms of function; she had said she didn’t want to participate in the anonymous exchange, to become a fantasy for another person. The fact that she had provided such a specific alternative didn’t really change that, though it of course complicated it further. He couldn't just... TAKE her. He certainly didn't have that kind of money, and besides, that would be supremely unethical. He'd heard the rumors of what the CEO's got up to during off hours, but they were WIVES for gods' sakes, and besides they both worked here, and at the same clearance level, so there was no possible abuse of power...

He looked down at the prone woman, a thought flickering in his head. 

"Tell me more about my hypnotic technique, " he said slowly, remembering what she'd told him about being a switch, and hoping her previous experience as a subject wasn’t reflective of her experience as a top. 

"You form comprehensive, imaginative, logical yes loops while carefully choosing loaded language and modifying your wording very naturally based on my reactions, " came the breathy yet deadpan answer, "I noticed that when I responded positively to your laughing, playful demeanor, you quickly switched over to it. Most people decide on their tone and stick to it really stubbornly, like they're paying a character in a bad play."

He laughed before he could help it, a quick delighted bark he failed to swallow. "What is your experience performing hypnosis?" He choked out.

"I've been performing small stage and street shows for 7 years, since senior year of high school. I've taught several classes, all recreational. I can pass theory and practice tests, but can't afford certification."

He let out a low breath. Not exactly a therapist, but they'd hired junior technicians with far less knowledge. 

"Alright, darling drone," he began,  wondering if he was really doing this. His stomach felt heavy with uncertainty, while a low buzz of excitement sat at the base of his skull. Was this the feeling they had, walking in here? How funny. "In a moment,  I'm going to count from 10 to 1. Each number will bring you further out of trance, until by 1 you are awake. I cannot ethically accept you as Mine without a lot of talking, and probably more dates, if you'd want. But I think I have an idea for an alternative job."

Somewhere deep in her blank and happy mind, the spark of connecting neurons from her subconscious flared briefly, and she knew what he intended. A tiny smile twitched her sleeping face, and her eyes rolled towards his hand, still resting on her forehead. Unconsciously, he ran an affectionate hand over her brow, pushing aside stray hairs. Okay.