"He is so fucked."
"What do you mean?" asked Andrew, eyes on the videotape in Hypnotist's hands. Instead of answering, Hypnotist simply shot back a smirk -- one that let him know that all will be shown in good time.
Andrew genuinely wanted to know what was going to happen to Simon. After all, Simon provided the basis for Andrew’s entire curriculum: he was the ultimate victim. Simon's life was completely in the hands of Hypnotist, and the best part was that Simon didn't even know. Simon had been Hypnotist's mental slave for the better part of a year, and as such, Hypnotist could get whatever he wanted from Simon. Given that Hypnotist was already one horny motherfucker, this meant that Simon was at Hypnotist's beck and call every week, humiliating himself offering up his body for Hypnotist's every devious desire, every fetishistic fantasy, and every orgasm that Hypnotist wanted to have. The best part though? Simon never left with any memory of what transpired ...
This kind of control over someone -- over every aspect of their body -- was exactly what Andrew wanted. Andrew was a handsome guy in his early 20s, with lightly tanned skin and short brown hair that swooped like a GQ cover models would (heck, if Andrew ever got over his affinity for t-shirts and Chuck Taylors, he probably WOULD get a modeling job if he wanted). This, coupled with his effervescent smile, naturally made Andrew a lightning rod for female attention. He had his first major makeout session when he was 16, and had sex just two years later. The girl behind both of these events, Raquel, was long out of the picture by the time Andrew got to college.
Yet even with the inventive prom invites he got showered with year after year (and Facebook friend requests from girls he didn't ever recall meeting), Andrew had gradually come to the conclusion that he wasn't really into relationships with girls. All the chick flick movies with those predictable plots, enduring long car rides with Katy Perry blasting out of the speakers, all this wildly unnecessary pillow talk AFTER sex -- it wasn't his thing. He liked rock music, action movies, and sports games. He liked to see things get crushed and egos get bruised. In essence, he liked power on display. On campus, he never joined a Frat but he spent every waking moment he could at one; drinking games, hyperbolic tales of sexual conquests, collectively yelling at a plasma TV screen when the Raiders fumbled -- this was more Andrew's speed.
And then came Seth.
For awhile now, Andrew had been taking into account the way his Frat friends behaved: overly macho, domineering, yet -- weirdly vulnerable. Always wearing shorts and sandals, not backing away too much when talking about "feelings" -- it was odd. The shorts and sandals thing was also interesting to Andrew: a guy being barefoot is in and of itself an unusual thing -- a sight that was more meant for girlfriends and wives; a state of undress. So for a group of guys to be to together and partially naked, exposed -- well that piqued Andrew's interest. When groups of them wrestled for no reason and one unlucky soul wound up calling uncle because one guy discovered his ribs (or worse, his bare soles) were ticklish -- that worked too. Andrew wanted that: to experience doing that to someone -- but Andrew tended to be rather shy. Andrew knew that if he went up to one of his baseball cap-wearing pals and asked to play with their feet, he knew their innate homophobia would kick in and he'd be ostracized in nanoseconds. He didn't feel safe about asking anyone to do it -- until he met Seth.
Seth worked at the campus eatery (the official school one that hires students for abysmal wages), and goddamn was he witty. Seth -- with his blonde short hair, deep blue eyes, and slight bit of pudge in his shape -- was one of the nicest, most efficient cafe servers you could imagine, capable of whipping together a dirty chai and a cooked pizza pretzel in what seemed like 90 seconds. Given Andrew's weak spot for strawberry smoothies (and only them), Andrew wound up visiting the campus eatery a lot. Through his upbeat and joke-filled chats with Seth, Andrew gradually began making what he considered his first "true" friendship in college, despite being a senior. The two began hanging out after Seth's shifts, and gradually moreso on weekends. Seth was a gigantic sci-fi nerd but you'd never guess it by looking at him: most sci-fi nerds were never that witty or outgoing. Fun was had, drinks were shared. Yet there was one small aspect about Seth’s life that Andrew never really understood: Seth never went barefoot anywhere. This wasn’t a topic that came up very often, but in all honesty, that small facet didn't even matter: the bond between the two guys was strong, almost sacred ...
... which is exactly why Seth was Andrew's number one target. He wanted to rip off those shoes and socks and have a party with his favorite nerd's feet. He wanted to hogtie him his all-black (by requirement) work clothes and see how he reacts to constant, diabolical tickling. With his gorgeous looks, Andrew still got advances from girls all the time, but taking that road would be far too easy; Seth was someone who he couldn't have in any circumstances -- which is why he wanted him all the more.
He couldn't trick Seth into doing this, nor could he really explore the inner lurkings of Seth's sexuality (Seth already had a girlfriend, whom Andrew quite liked actually). There had to be some other way, and that's when it stuck him: Hypnotist.
Andrew's attraction to guy's feet was a bit off kilter -- he knew that -- but he just couldn't get enough of that macho vulnerability. There were tons of videos on YouTube of guys literally just taking their socks off on camera and wiggling their toes around. Those (usually face-unseen) guys just KNEW that people were getting off on their bare feet, and that mixture of vulnerability and swaggering machismo only intrigued Andrew further. Yet what took the cake was a mysterious user known only as Hypnotist. The guy would simply set a camera down as he sat down with his friends and put them in a trance.
Hypnotist couldn't have been older than 28 -- slender, confident, a perfectly wry and devious smile -- but his mastery of the art of hypnosis was unparalleled. He'd have nerdy guys think they were honest-to-goodness puppy dogs in one video, sassy lingerie models in the next. The instant rapport he had with his victims was incredible. The "deepness" of the victim’s trance states was amazing. And this is why a bulk of Hypnotist's videos were about his own fetishes, which were eerily parallel to Andrew's. One video featured a burly, overweight college quarterback -- light traces of a beard intact -- sitting down on an old couch in an old yellow T-shirt, jeans, and soccer cleats. Hypnotist cued him into thinking that whenever he said "tickle" the guy would get a little bit more horny. In this video, the QB was just melting into the cushions of the couch, snoozing away in his deep trance. Hypnotist would say "tickle" -- evenly, very matter-of-fact -- and suddenly QB's back arched ever-so-slightly. A subconscious smile spread across the chubby college athlete's face, and every time Andrew saw that grin, he got excited. That was not a run-of-the-mill smile, no: that was a smile that belonged to a boy experiencing extreme pleasure deep down in his soul. Hypnotist would say "tickle" again, and QB just giggled. Hypnotist said it yet again, and what started as a giggle slowly turned into a moan. QB's hips thrust unconsciously -- in three utterances QB was probably fully erect. THAT was power. THAT was control. THAT was vulnerability. And suddenly, Andrew found his in with Seth.
Of course, YouTube doesn't allow nudity, and Hypnotist's videos ended before getting to "the good stuff", popping up a link to his video site at the end. Andrew memorized each and every preview -- especially of the lacrosse athlete who was under the idea that removing his socks and feeling the air between his toes would get him instantly hard -- and once even bought one of "The Confession", wherein a nerdy computer programmer type who, under hypnotic suggestion, unearthed every male-male sexual encounter he had. It was extra devious because Hypnotist prompted him with the idea that the deeper the secret was, the hornier he would get. Needless to say, it was Andrew's most watched DVD by far (easily displacing Boondock Saints).
These videos sent a series of devious thoughts into Andrew's gorgeous head.
Unfortunately, that made nights hanging out with Seth all the more awkward. Seth didn't pick up on any of Andrew’s secret desires -- to him, he was just having a good time with a friend. Andrew was too, but not without those devious ulterior motives. Even when they went out to a nearby bar on the hottest day of the year so far (highs in the low 80s), Seth's dress remained unchanged: long pants, comfortable sneakers, shin-length white cotton socks. Not a sandal in sight. Even when Andrew dropped some foot-related topic into conversation, Seth rarely addressed it. These actions were driving Andrew slowly out of his mind. Now he didn't want to ruin a good friendship, but was he really so bad for at least wanting to take a peak at what he wanted?
Later that night, laying in his too-small dorm bed and staring at the ceiling, Andrew made his decision: he was going to contact Hypnotist.
Andrew was a little hesitant at first -- after all, he was just about to ask an online hypnotist to teach him how to control his friend for sexual pleasure -- but he didn't see any other option. He sent off a simple private message to Hypnotist's YouTube account, thinking nothing would happen (guy must get 1000 e-mails a day, right?). Much to his surprise, he got a message back within 10 minutes. After reviewing Andrew's description of the situation, Hypnotist was intrigued, and thought he could help. He asked where Andrew lived, indicating that he lived ... in the same city where Andrew was going to college? Holy crap. Andrew didn't really believe in fate, but this came pretty damn close ...
After exchanging a few messages back and forth, the two decided to meet up at Hypnotist's place, which he claimed was an upscale studio apartment downtown. The day of the meet, Andrew threw on his Birkenstocks and cargo shorts and drove on down to Hypnotist's address. When Andrew pulled up to it, it was obvious that Hypnotist was not lying about his digs. It was an apartment obviously meant for people making over $100,000 a year. Andrew nervously went in and made his way up to Hypnotist's apartment. The door looked like it was made of solid oak. Andrew was sweating a bit nervously, but knocked on the door. This was a mistake right? Meeting up with someone just 'cos of their YouTube videos, right?
The door opened. The man opening it was as handsome as could be: dirty blonde hair, blue jeans, wearing an unbuttoned black dress shirt over a regular black T-shirt and featuring a smile that was almost as flashy as Andrew's. He extended his hand: “You must be Andrew.”
Andrew smiled back, and shook hands. "Guess I must be."
"Come on in, make yourself at home." Hypnotist shot a quick glance down to Andrew's feet. "Nice sandals." Andrew blushed a bit, but didn't know why.
Hypnotist's place was gorgeous: gigantic glass windows giving an overview of the whole city, hardwood floors, and what appeared to be a fully-functional bar in the middle of the place. Andrew looked in awe, but was most in awe of his host: damn that guy was attractive. If only he wasn't wearing black socks ...
"Heh, most people would just say Blue Moon instead."
"Not Miller Light?"
"Andrew, do I look like a dirt-poor frat boy wannabe?"
Andrew smiled -- he didn't know who this guy really was, but his forceful flirtation was kind of fun. Hypnotist noticed this, but didn't play into Andrew's obvious shyness. Instead he asked the best ice breaker question he possibly could: "So, friend, why don’t we get things started by having you sit down and tell me what you want to do to Seth ..."
For the next hour, the two chatted about the foot-shy Seth, the way that masculine vulnerability got Andrew off, and Andrew's many fantasy scenarios. This, in turn, lead to a long discussion about hypnosis, and shocking no one, Hypnotist knew a lot about the practice. The first lesson that Hypnotist gave was a very important one: that the only way people could be hypnotized was if they actually wanted to be. Those cartoons about people being hypnotized against their will by villainous gangsters were not factually accurate. Secondly, you couldn't physically touch the victim in the trance, except under very rare circumstances. You could convince a victim to take off their socks, sure, but to then drag your fingernails across their soles, it could break them out of the trance (and really freak them out to boot). Lastly, the level of trust the victim had with his master was key: the stronger that was, the deeper the trance could go. Hypnotist explained this all very elegantly, as Andrew ate up every last word.
That first session turned into weekly meetings, and before long Hypnotist had Andrew trying out certain exercises, doing research back in his dorm, and viewing even more hypnosis videos (including some naughty ones that didn‘t even make Hypnotist‘s website). On the duo’s seventh meetup, Hypnotist wanted to show Andrew “something incredible“. No, Hypnotist didn't want to put Andrew through his own session or two like he did last time. Instead, all Andrew would do is watch a video ...
"What is it?" Andrew asked, toes curling in his sandals, eager and curious.
"It's a video I made of Simon -- the best victim anyone could ever have. He's the basis of your entire curriculum. To put it another way: he was my Seth, and the stuff I got him to do was pretty amazing."
"So what happened?"
"Well, let's put it this way, Andrew: he is so fucked."
"What do you mean?"
Hypnotist smirked, the tape of a session with Simon twirling in his hands. He didn't have to say anything to his excited pupil at this point: he just popped the tape in his VCR player, and watched a tale he knew all too well ...
The tape flickered to life, and it was ... a surprisingly normal scene. A plain light yellow couch in someone's house, a small table in front of it, and a guy sitting right there on the couch, alert and active. Andrew deduced that this was Simon. He had a bit of a babyface and a schoolboy haircut, but donned a light green Legend of Zelda t-shirt and light tan cargo pants. Not traditionally handsome, but not bad by any degree. Hypnotist was speaking off camera.
"Alright, you ready there, Simon?"
"Oh sure, man. And you're SURE this will cure me of my insomnia right?"
"Hypnosis is capable of some pretty amazing things, man. The only reason it works is because the brain can cure the body of so many things without even trying: hypnosis just guides it to the right path, OK?"
"OK, man," replied Simon, very of matter-of-factly. "Just don't turn me into a chicken or anything."
"Heh heh," cackled Hypnotist, "I wouldn't do anything like THAT to you."
Andrew looked at the real-life Hypnotist standing behind him, his face glowing in the light of his TV set. His smirk was unmistakable: he was really enjoying watching this again.
Hypnotist told Simon to close his eyes and lean his head back. The college-aged Zelda-lover did so. Hypnotist's voice took on an NPR-styled cadence: assuring yet unmistakable, confident and knowing. Andrew was already aware of Hypnotist's powerful speaking voice through the practice sessions they did in person, but to hear it confidently boom through a craggily old VHS was a bit surprising: no amount of distortion was preventing him from luring his victim even further down the rabbit hole.
After Hypnotist warmed Simon up by having him tense and relax his body with his eyes closed -- one segment at a time -- it was obvious that Simon wanted this to happen and was already feeling more relaxed. Hypnotist then went through his classic spiel ...
"Alright Simon, now I want you to feel your body. I want you to really feel how relaxed it is. Every part of you is feeling more relaxed than it ever has before. You can only hear the sound of my voice. You cannot hear any other sound than that of my voice. You are now feeling your body sink into the couch and into the floor. Deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper. The deeper you go, the more you go into a sleeping state, where the only thing you hear and respond to is my voice. Deeper and deeper, sleepier and sleepier. You have never felt so relaxed in your life. The more relaxed you become, the more prominent my voice echoes in your mind. Deeper and deeper, sleepier and sleepier. The deeper you get, the deeper you want to go. The deeper you go, the more my voice reaches out to you, like a lasso reaching into your soul, capable of pulling you out of your slumber at any second. You want to thank me for guiding you with my voice, and you thank me by going deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper. Now when I count to three and snap my fingers, you will fall under my complete command, addressing me only as 'sir', each word I say driving you deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper. Now 1, 2, 3 ..."
Hypnotist snapped his fingers, and Simon -- who looked like he was being completely enveloped by the couch cushion and dangerously close to being absorbed by it -- slowly rose, Lazarus-like, until he was sitting perfectly upright. Even on the slightly-grainy VHS tape, Andrew could see Simon's eyes stare ahead, blankly and without emotion, never once blinking. Andrew had seen hypnosis videos, but not like this. This ... was intense.
"Now Simon, what do you hear?"
"Only the sound of your voice, sir."
"What do you want to do?"
"Obey your commands so I can go into a deeper state of sleep, sir."
"Good boy, Simon. I will reward you now by telling you to go deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper."
Andrew watched as Simon slowly blinked his eyes once, as if to acknowledge Hypnotist’s command. As eerie as the whole viewing experience was, Andrew felt like he was opening up a whole Pandora's box of erotic delight just by watching this.
"Now Simon, you like jerking off, correct?"
"Do you like it when you've teased out your cock to the point where it's positively dripping with precum, right? To the point where every tingle it feels just might be the one that sends it over the edge, right?"
"Yes, sir. Very much so."
"'Very much so,' ay? Well that's quite impressive young man. That is why you are going to be turned on like you never have been before, Simon. Lie back onto the couch for me."
Simon did so, sitting much like the way he did before.
"Alright," began Hypnotist, a devious tenor slipping into his voice. "I now want you to place your feet on this table in front of you."
Simon did so. He was wearing generic light-brown sneakers with white laces, and what looked to be -- just like Seth -- shin-high ankle socks. The position of the camera made it so Andrew was looking right at the bottoms of Simon's sneakers. Already, the anticipation of what was going to happen was killing him -- he had barely even noticed he was already fully erect ...
"Now," started Hypnotist, relishing every word, "you are a horny young boy. What I want you to do now is wiggle your toes around inside your shoes. Yes. Can you feel those toes trapped in the canvas of your shoe? Constricted in those white cotton socks? Oh, how wonderful it must feel to remove those things. So wonderful, in fact, that whenever you get barefoot, you get turned on. To feel air circling your toes, to bend and flex them freely -- that idea of liberation is a huge turn on to you, and right now you want nothing more than for that to happen."
Already, Andrew could see in the video that Simon was squirming. His feet flexed back and forth on the table, and an unconscious, deep smile and snuck its way onto his face. Dude seemed like he really, really wanted to be barefoot. This was remarkable.
"Now Simon," continued Hypnotist, "what do you want right now more than anything?"
"To be barefoot, sir." A tinge of horniness was creeping into Simon's voice.
"Would you get horny if I untied your laces right now?"
Suddenly, a slightly younger-looking Hypnotist crept on camera, and he fondled the tops of Simon's sneakers, obviously savoring each and every detail. The more the fingers danced over the tops of those laces, the more Simon could be seen squirming. Slowly, Hypnotist began untying the laces of Simon's right shoe, loosened up the tongue, and then grabbed the shoe by the heel and ever-so-slowly peeled the shoe off, exposing Simon's socked sole to the camera. By the time it was completely off, Simon's right hand had already snuck its way down to his crotch, unconsciously stroking his manhood with a very obvious sense of purpose. Although Hypnotist's head was out of frame, it was obvious that he was smiling.
"I'm going to do the next shoe now," he started again, "and the more the shoe comes off, the deeper you fall into your state of sleep -- and the hornier you get."
"Yes sir," Simon said, practically moaning it.
The process was very similar for the other shoe, except Simon was enjoying it even more now, his grin so wide it could almost be called stupid-happy. As Simon's left shoe came off, Simon started to moan -- this was practically sex for him. All ten toes subconsciously flexed with their newfound freedom, his hand still stroking his cock through the front of his cargo pants.
Hypnotist paced around his sockfooted victim, soaking it all in. "Now, Simon, you like stroking your manhood, don't you?"
"Unzip your pants and start pumping."
Casually, Simon proceeded to do so. The unzipping was slow, very deliberate. Simon didn't even drop his pants far at all. He just pulled out his wide, cut cock and proceeded to rhythmically pump away, his eyes now closed and ears waiting anxiously for instruction.
"Alright Simon -- three things are now going to happen. First, with every pump you take, you are going to fall deeper and deeper into your trance state. Secondly, even as you approach a climax, you are not going to cum until I order you so. Understood?"
"Yes sir," moaned the unconscious masturbator. God, he was not stopping now was he?
"And last but not least," intoned Hypnotist, "you are REALLY going to enjoy this next part ..."
With that, Hypnotist hooked his fingers around the rim of Simon's right sock and pulled it down past the ankle and around the heel of the boy's foot. He then stopped: most of the sock was now scrunched up around the middle of Simon's sole, while the part near the toes was straight and untouched. Simon kept pumping at regular intervals. Hypnotist now grabbed the tip of Simon's sock -- right between the big and first toe -- and began to slowly, slowly pull the sock from Simon's foot. As he did this -- with the fabric slowly running past the ball of Simon's foot -- Simon's moaning was pitching up gradually higher. Before long the rim of the sock made its way over the toes, though Hypnotist just left it dangling there, like a cotton bell with Simon's toes as the hammer. This teasing only increased Simon's pitch.
Hypnotist then did the same with the other sock, and Simon's moaning got even worse.
Finally, after doing the bell bit with Simon's left toes, the boy was splayed out and completely barefoot. His toes freely wiggled and the pumping began to slowly increase. A high pitched whimper followed -- goddamn the boy was horny.
"Stop!" Hypnotist declared -- and that's exactly what Simon did. No complaints, no nothing: dude flat out halted mid-pump. Simon's pre-cum-stained hand went immediately to his side, like it was his default position. What a well-trained boy Hypnotist had on his hands there.
"Now Simon," started the master, "do you like being barefoot?"
Simon's voice shot up like a child on Christmas morning: "Fuck yes, I love it!"
"Good boy. Now, I am going to start licking your beautiful, amazing-looking feet here now. With each moist molecule that lands on your soles, you're going to get hornier and hornier, hornier and hornier. If you shoot, that's fine. As I lick, you are going to verbally thank me, and with each thank you, you fall deeper and deeper into your state of sleep. Understand?"
Hypnotist went down to his knees. He sniffed Simon's left foot very deeply, and already the boy began to moan. Then Hypnotist's tongue slowly stretched out, starting with Simon's thick heel and then gradually inching up the boy's exposed sole. As he did so, Simon's high pitched whimper came back, hips unconsciously thrusting, no hand anywhere near his cock. Hypnotist continued this on the other foot, slowly dragging his wet tongue from Simon's thick heel to sensitive sole to ball of his foot to base of his toes. Once there, Hypnotist slowly engulfed some toes in his mouth, and then it happened ...
Without even having his cock touched in any way, Simon shot off a rocket of cum, accompanied by a high pitched squeal of pleasure. The rockets came again and again and again. Hypnotist got him good. Simon's whole body was almost shuddering through the whole thing, from initial launch to the dozens of small aftershots. It was a sight to behold.
A pause filled the air. Simon's eyes were still closed. Hypnotist went over to his hypnotized victim and tucked the boy's beet-red cock away, zipping him all up but leaving the cum stains as is. He then paced around for a bit.
"Did you enjoy yourself, Simon?"
"Yes sir," said the boy, very flatly.
"Good. Again, with each word of my voice, you get deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper. Now, when I snap my fingers, you are going to wake up, but two things are going to happen. First off, in your daily life, you are going to become bored with shoes. And socks. You'll wear them for a week or so, but then socks are going to feel uncomfortable, and unnecessary. You'll buy cheap plastic flip-flops and wear them whenever you can. You'll take good care of your feet, and they'll take on a new prominence to you. Understood?"
"Then repeat it back to me."
Much to Andrew's amazement, he did, almost verbatim. The slave's mind was almost a steel trap now: it truly absorbed EVERYTHING that Hypnotist said.
"Very good," continued Hypnotist. "Now, one more thing. You will now have a trigger installed in you. You want to hear this trigger more than anything in the world. Anytime you hear the phrase 'footslave', you will instantly fall into the state of trance you are in now. You will respond to only my voice, and only I can set you to 'normal'. And you will get hornier with each lick of your bare, exposed feet. Understood?"
"Then repeat it back to me."
Again he did.
"Good boy, Simon. Now when I snap my fingers, you will wake up and have absolutely no memory of what happened. Understood?"
"3 ... 2 ... 1 ..."
He snapped, and Simon's went big, blinking a lot as he looked around the room with a confused look on his face, totally not catching the fact that his cock was out and exposed.
"Hey man," started Hypnotist, "I was worried about ya. Fell asleep there for a bit. You OK?"
"I guess," stated the boy, "I just ... where are my shoes?"
"Dude," intoned Hypnotist, "what happened to your shirt?"
Simon looked at the numerous cumstains and was aghast. He saw his dick hanging out there in the open and immediately tucked it back in his pants, stammering for an explanation.
"I ... I don't ... it's just ..."
"FOOTSLAVE!" Hypnotist yelled, and Simon collapsed in the couch all over again, happily snoozing and awaiting commands.
Hypnotist cackled a bit, and then turned the camera off. The video was done.
Andrew, who‘s cock was practically ripping through his shorts, looked up at Hypnotist, who was grinning at his star pupil.
"So ...what'd you think?"
"I ... I'm amazed. The stuff you did broke so many of your own rules ..."
"I know, Andrew, but this was about the 20th time I had put him under. This was the first time, however, that I really got to get what I wanted. You work with your victim enough, focusing on building that bridge of trust and control, and you can do whatever you want with them ... just like you'll do with Seth."
"That's great!" said Andrew, smiling. Yet slowly, his smile turned into a look of concern. "There is just one thing that concerned me, though."
"Those 'triggers' you gave him. I mean, once you start messing with people's subconscious, that stuff gets really freaky. I mean, what if you alter their personality for the rest of their lives? Doesn‘t that, ya know, bug you or something?"
"It's a moral gray area, yes, but it's got its perks."
"I ... I don't know,” started Andrew, hesitantly. “That’s just … I don’t know if I want to be a part of that aspect of it. I'm sorry."
"Oh Andrew," said Hypnotist in a reassuring tone, "there's no need to apologize at all. Besides, you're already involved in that part of it whether you like it or not."
"What do you mean?"
Hypnotist placed his arms around the seated Andrew and softly whispered those two deadly words into his ear: "Tickle Toy."
Just like that, the trigger that Hypnotist placed in the boy's brain during their last "practice" session went off, and Andrew completely collapsed in his chair, held strongly in Hypnotist's arms. He whispered again: "You ready to be tickled until you cum, Andrew?"
The hypnotized boy responded "Yes, sir."
Hypnotist smiled again, because he knew this was going to be one hell of a night ...
i'm not into the foot fetish thing. Probably like most people not into a particular fetish i don't really understand or get off on that aspect of the story. However, the control Hypnotist has over his subjects is hotter than hell.
While a foot fetish does not come naturally to me, i have found that over time, as my own hypnosis project to increase submissiveness progresses, i have begun to feel a growing affinity for many of other fetishes.
Thanks so much for your imagination, your writing skills, and your willingness to share them with the rest of us. Thanks in particular for this enthralling story. Hope you are feeling positive to the idea of writing more. (i will visit your tumblr page.)