You didn’t have to be a therapist to know that Mira’s marriage would fall to pieces someday. She wanted to keep trying with Taylor, though, and I had no objections. Walking arm in arm with her in the park, and going out to plays or the symphony together — these sorts of things were not my objectives. Fucking Mira frequently was my goal, and the rest could play out any which way. Because her situation involved another man, the commands I’d given her had been “taylored” differently than those ticking inside of Rosita. To avoid detection, Mira would not and could not be a regularly scheduled sex toy. She had a life to live that would keep her from me for various periods of time, and I could live with that.

As long as I knew she’d be absolutely boiling inside for my dick, and plotting the first available chance to wrap her mouth or cunt around it.

You won’t be surprised to learn that we fucked a lot before Taylor returned from his overseas trip. That same night, the night after the three-way with Lucinda, Mira and I explored another fantasy of hers, to make love in a public place. We drove an hour and a half to a neighboring town, where she slipped beneath the tablecloth at a four- star Italian restaurant, surreptitiously smoking my meat while I gasped into mouthfuls of spaghetti carbonara. We rocked the shocks of my Toyota for dessert, the orange glow of a streetlight casting the sculpted form of Mira's legs and torso into warm highlights and enticing shadows.

I slept at her home that night, occupying the place on her bed that belonged to her husband, while Mira modeled every pair of stockings and heels that she owned, pausing between outfit changes to tease my dick with her tongue. She gave me my first ever leg-fuck donned in a pair of seamed black nylons, paired with a French maid’s outfit she’d worn for Halloween the previous year. She knew exactly what she was doing to me when she began to stroke me with her legs, mercilessly teasing me to eruption by sliding my cock between her nylon-clad calves. The sight of her legs working at my cock and the fine friction of the nylons proved too much, and I came like a fucking fountain, ropes of milky white painting a Pollack on the dark ground of her knees. By the end of that night, I felt as hooked as she was, because I didn’t just love her body, I fucking worshiped it.

We spent the next two nights at my house, where she lusted for and feathered and sucked and reamed my cock until I couldn’t come anymore. Every one of her orgasms was loud and violent, and what kept getting me hard was how she seemed to want me even more after every explosion, as though she was trying to cram a lifetime of sex with me into the hours before Taylor’s return. Unlike Mira, I had confidence that we’d be fucking again in the near future, but I didn’t let on, and kept up with her drives with my own intense lust.

So no — none of that is the least bit surprising. What might strike you as unexpected occurred earlier, right after hypnotizing Mira and fucking her unconscious on her living room floor. I covered her mostly naked body with a quilt after she passed out, then went back upstairs to check on Lucinda. She had turned over at some point, her body looking more relaxed and less crumpled, but she was still sound asleep. I made more noise than necessary entering the room, and she started awake, her eyelids fluttering.

“Hi,” I said.

She smiled groggily. “Wow,” she breathed. “I feel like… I fucked a herd of elephants.” She shifted her body to sit cross-legged on the floor, her blonde pussy plainly visible. She was still dressed in her stockings and translucent spider suit, her firm tits pointing at me, her body looking strong and vital despite her general dishevelment. She held her head in her hands, the hair running through her fingers all wild and sweat-stained.

“Let me get you some herbal tea,” I offered. “And then, there’s something we really need to discuss. Something… exciting.”

Minutes later, sitting together on the bed, I told her that I had just hypnotized Mira, with astounding results. “I never thought it could work so well when I first hypnotized you,” I lied. “When you asked to have more intense orgasms… I’m sorry, but I took it more like a joke than anything. I went along with it, but I honestly never thought it could work.”

“It… did!” she answered, her eyes lowering to stare at my crotch.

“I know that now, and after seeing you, Mira wanted the same thing. But it was different with her, Lucinda, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you. Knowing that it was possible this time, I took it all more seriously with Mira, and directed the suggestions more precisely. What she felt afterwards… It was incredible!”

“Oh my God! You mean you could make sex feel even… better?”

“I just did, with Mira. I thought she might blow out the walls, the way she came. You don’t know what a breakthrough this is! Maybe it can only work with dancers, or other people extremely attuned to their bodies, as the two of you are. I’ll have to experiment more, but I might even be able to…”

“Oh God,” she said, a hand reaching towards my lap, lightly stroking my dick. “Experiment on me! Do it to me again… Oh please, do it again! I really want it, Michael. I think… I think I need it!”

Maybe it was the suggestions already inside of her, urging her forward with so little questioning. She played right into my hands again, but this time my plans were quite different. Somewhere in all of this, the decision had been made without my even being aware of it. Now, with my cock temporarily sated, I might even have the strength to carry it out.

I took her teasing hand in mine, and urged her to lie down.

“Let’s wait, Lucinda. We can do that afterwards, when it can feel even better for you.”

“You’ll put me under, just like before?”

“Yes. I’ll repeat the same suggestions I just gave Mira a little bit ago.”

“Make them… even better!” she urged. “If anything can be amplified… Make what I feel when I come as good as it can humanly get. I have a really strong body — I can take it, I know I can.”

It was so easy leading her into the immersion state, because she was almost desperate to go under. I directed her attention through her body, her consciousness losing its grip. Once she was there, I went right at it, concerned that Mira might appear at any time to overhear.

“You want incredibly potent orgasms, Lucinda.”

“Yes! I do!”

“You’ve had your fun with Mira and Michael, and you’re so happy to have had such amazing orgasms. But now you need to go even further. Your orgasms can be even more intense, Lucinda. The orgasms can be like a slice of heaven here on earth.”

“Ohhh… I want that…”

“Michael’s cock has given you incredible orgasms.”

“Yes!”

“And doing Michael with a woman was even better.”

“Yes!”

“You’ve come so hard, Lucinda, and so far. But there are further heights to reach, and these better orgasms are to be found elsewhere. Do you understand?”

Her brow wrinkled even in the immersion state, this contradictory fact causing confusion.

“Not… Michael?”

“No, Lucinda. Not Michael.”

I could empathize with the hesitation that showed on her face, that feeling of a logic-hiccup. Every action for the past number of weeks would have indicated different words issuing from my lips, and I could hardly believe it myself. But as I’ve said, the decision was already made. I went on.

“You know that Michael’s cock can give you wonderful orgasms, but the better ones can only come through Grace.”

“G…Grace?”

“Grace loves you, Lucinda.”

“I… know.”

“Do you love Grace?”

“I… still don’t know.”

“Why did the two of you break up?”

“She wouldn’t fuck Michael with me.”

“Because she loves you. And now that you’ve fucked Michael with another woman, you are free to return to Grace, and have those better orgasms with her.”

“Grace…”

“Grace worships your thighs, Lucinda, and that worship is what makes you feel so hot. Grace wants you to feel everything you can possibly feel between your thighs. Grace is a very caring woman, isn’t she? A caring, loving and incredibly sexy woman.”

“Grace… cares…”

“And her tongue can set your pussy on fire, Lucinda. Grace can help you to achieve the unbelievably powerful orgasms you desire. Only Grace, no one else.”

“O…only… Grace?”

“The two of you had an argument, but now it’s time to make up.”

“I… I…”

“How else can Grace give you the amazing orgasms you wish for? You have to return to Grace, and make love to her. When you and Grace make up, her tongue and her worship of your thighs can send you where you wish to go, to a place where your body instantly responds, and your orgasms become unbelievably strong. You want that, don’t you Lucinda? Orgasms that are unbelievably strong?

“Oh yesss… Yesss…”

“Who can give them to you?”

“Grace…”

Who will you want to make love to again and again? Who is caring and loving and sexy, and able to tongue you into unbelievably powerful orgasms?”

“Grace!”

“You should go to her tonight. You should make up and beg her to tongue you.”

“Yes!”

It was weird, but I started to get really hard, partly from the power to sway her mind, and partly from imagining the great sex she and Grace would have together. There were only two more things I wanted to address while she was under my power, and I led her there, then eased her back towards consciousness.

She lightly fingered her pussy as she became aware again, and turned her head to regard me.

“Did you…” she asked.

“I did.”

“I… don’t know how to thank you,” she whispered, reaching for my hard dick.

She thanked me the way I’d told her to, giving me a slow and exquisitely delicate farewell blowjob. It didn’t bother me that I enjoyed it a good bit more than she did this time. She didn’t come, as she had twice before, from sucking on my cock. In fact, I think I could see that realization come alive in her, that she’d be swearing off cocks from now on, right after she licked mine clean.

Afterwards, Lucinda put sweat pants and a loose shirt over her sex outfit, sneakers replacing her fuck-me heels. She really did have fantastic thighs, and when they disappeared under her sweats, I felt like I was already saying goodbye to them, probably forever. But that was okay. I could get over them, and pass them on.

Her car was parked out on the street in front of Mira’s house, and I walked her to the front door, past Mira’s still prone form. Lucinda bent down to kiss Mira’s cheek, and she gave me a warm hug in farewell. And then she was gone.

She would probably clean up before seeking out Grace, although I hadn’t thought to put that suggestion into her. Would she dress up sexy, and call ahead? Perhaps she would choose to surprise Grace, the offer of hot pussy seeming to drop down from the sky, like a gift from the gods. I hadn’t chosen to micromanage any of this, except to command Lucinda to never tell about us. If Grace ever learned of this afternoon’s sexfest, or that I’d gotten blowjobs from the love of her life, the knowledge wouldn’t come from Lucinda.

I felt a deep inner glow, the sort of thing that comes after having performed a rare good deed. It was nice, having that feeling when Mira awakened. When she urged me towards engaging in sex with her in a restaurant, the good-deed emotions were still there, even as she sucked my cock under the table. I even felt like a nice guy all through the time I lay where Mira’s husband would normally be, admiring her stocking extravaganza and eventually being fucked by those same perfect legs.

I wasn’t a horrible human being, even when controlling the psyches and sexual needs of beautiful women. I could take only what I needed, and pass the rest on for others to enjoy. It seemed to me that I was going to love every minute of the next chapter of my life, and I did. The only problem was one of duration. I wanted to fuck Mira and Rosita like this forever, but as we all know, nothing lasts forever. Nothing.

I’ll always think of these weeks as my sexual golden age. Rosita entered my office every Tuesday evening with her pussy half a breath from exploding, her huge tits like oversized playtoys designed for my viewing and cock-stuffing pleasure. I imagined taking her on my desk or the leather couch, filling her swollen cunt with therapeutic meat right there in my office, but my cautionary instincts dictated that we keep our office affairs in the oral and “titular” zone, which still left a wide menu of options. I bought a number of scarves and one official cock-shaped mouth-gag for Rosita, her screams of anguish and delight never rising above the “mildly disturbed psyche” level for others to overhear. I followed her home every Tuesday night after these warm-ups, my cock bathed in the kinds of lap-dances that every man wishes for, Rosita’s big lungs free to scream to the heavens if she so desired. And thanks to the commands within her, she did desire, like clockwork. TGTIT, I thought every Tuesday morning. Thank God this is Tuesday!

I received two interesting phone calls at the beginning of this wonderful sex-saturated time. The first came from Grace, who was experiencing her own golden age, thanks to the commands I’d forced into Lucinda. Her voice sounded a little strange as she spoke, her “t’s” sometimes coming out like “d’s”.

“You are one sneaky devil,” she said, and then sighed.

“Devil? Me?”

“You fucking hypnodized her again, and didn’t even warn me.”

“I thought you’d like a nice surprise.”

“You thought right.”

“So it’s all working out?”

“Like a miracle. She can’t get enough, and neither can I. Although I’m thinking of changing her name to Lascivious Lucinda, or Lucinda ‘Lectric Legs, or Loud-Lunged Lucinda. I might even buy some of that soundproofing foam they use in recording studios, because she goes fucking ballistic. All I have to do is stare bedween her legs and crook my finger, and then I’m like Colonel Sanders in thigh heaven.”

“I’m glad. You sound weird, though.”

“It’s my tongue.”

“Your dung?”

“Tongue! I swear it’s gedding bigger, like a muscle that’s been pumped-up through too much exercise. I’m going to have the world’s strongest tongue in about a month. Look for me in the Guinness Book.”

“Under ‘ripped tongues’? That sounds macabre.”

“Under ‘deepest well of gratitude’. I mean it, Michael. Thanks aren’t enough for this one. Whatever you did to her in hypnosis was everything I asked for and maybe more. I’ll repay you for this, you just watch. I can’t get a gift like this and not turn around and give back. It would fuck with my karma forever.”

“Your happiness is payment enough.”

“Hey, don’t go p.c. mush-mush on me. You know what you have, don’t you? You could be sitting on a goldmine. It’s like you slipped Lucinda a sexed-up love potion. Just think of how much money you could make offering your services to the lonely hearted. It’s fucking cum-therapy! You’ll be famous! You’ll be on Oprah!”

“I’m sure not too many difficult issues would be raised during the ensuing ethics review investigation. Not as long as I could hypnotize every panel member, and make them diddle with themselves while I testified.”

She laughed. “You know, you sound pretty happy yourself.”

“I’m happy enough.”

“Meaning your dick has been busy.”

“Mmmmaybe.”

“Miss Dorso?”

“I’ve… tasted some torso lately. Otherwise, no comment.”

“I’m happy for you, but also concerned. Funny, how sometimes I can’t even decide how to feel about the two of you.”

“You don’t need to feel anything if you don’t want. It’s my burden to bear. If it is a burden.”

“I worry some.”

“Friends do that.”

“She’s wrapped those gorgeous legs around you tighter than you realize, Michael.”

“That… would be hard to imagine.”

“I think you’ve bitten from the apple and need help.”

“I’m the one with the snake, Grace.”

“Not all serpents are visible.”

“You’re going supernatural on me?”

“I’m going realistic on you. How long do you think you can get away with an inherently dangerous relationship like that? You’re a respected psychologist, Michael. It would be awful if I saw your picture on the late night local news, the therapist who couldn’t keep his snake in its cage. Your whole professional life is built on a pillar of drust. Once you abuse the public's drust, you have nothing.”

“Drust? What’s drust?”

“Dammid! You’re not listening to me!”

“I am. I’m just…”

“What? Addicted to her legs? At the mercy of your little head’s little brain? You’re driving at full speed towards a cliff, Michael. I can’t grab your leg to make you step on the brake, but it’s my duty to point out the cliff edge and voice my concern.”

“Noted.”

“Noted? That’s as deep as your response goes? Fucking noted?”

“For now… yes.”

“What’s with you? Have you made some solemn vow to give up on normal relationships?”

“Normal? What do you mean by ‘normal’?”

“A relationship with a woman who isn’t married, for starters. You need love in your life, not just lust. What about shared interests, and making decisions together, or a possible future… You know — normal!”

“You think it’s all an addiction for me.”

“Yes, I do think that.”

“This from a woman addicted to a certain pair of thighs, with no regrets that her lover’s extreme passions are at least partly the result of hypnosis?”

“Wait. That’s not fair.”

“I believe the exact words were: ‘Fuck it, turn her into my obedient sex slave if you can.’ I enjoyed doing it for you, Grace, but you call that normal?”

I heard her fume into the phone line, and then she blew out a gust of air. “You should have been a fucking lawyer. Okay, all right, you win this round. And it’s your life, I know that. Just… be careful.”

“I’ll try.”

“I’m going to repay you for what you did to Lucinda for me. The karma will balance out, Michael, you watch.”

“Balance is good.”

“And I frankly think you’re losing yours. I’m going to fucking catch you before you even have a chance to fall over that fucking cliff, do you hear?”

“Sounds good,” I said, aware of the fucking this-and-that in her language. She’d be like a dog with a bone with what she was thinking about. Whatever that was.

Mira called the next day, the Sunday after Taylor’s return. The conversation was brief, the feelings inside of me contrasting so oddly with those from Grace’s call.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she breathed into my ear.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. You know how much I like you in stockings.”

“Stop that. It’s… working, Michael. Taylor and I… It’s never been this good. It isn’t like being with you, but… It might be enough. I think we can make it, if it’s like this.”

“It might even get better,” I said, the lie so deceitful that the word “lie” might need an upgrade.

“I know it’s asking too much, but wish me luck, Michael.”

“Good luck.”

“Thank you. I’ll… see you sometime, I’m sure.”

“So am I.”

“Michael?”

“Yes?”

“I know it’s a strange time to say this but… I love you.”

I fell silent at that, weighing the words and all of the convoluted alleyways running through them.

“I love you too, Mira.”

I really do believe that she tried to stay away. I fucked Rosita Bello senseless that following Tuesday, and when the next weekend arrived without even a whisper from Mira, I had to admire her fortitude. I had a vivid dream about her on Friday night, and kept expecting to see her out of the corner of my eye all day Saturday. She never showed, though, and my dick began to ache with anticipation. It felt as though my balls were swelling with the production of explosive firepower, and I began to wonder whether I’d need to make an unannounced visit to Rosita’s strip club for a no- holds-barred lap-dance, just to relieve the tension.

I dreamed about Mira on Saturday night, too, and the dream became incredibly vivid at one point, so vivid that I started awake to find Mira leaning over my middle, wearing a surprisingly conservative dress with her tongue circling the head of my cock.

“I… can’t stay away,” she lamented, drawing me deep inside her mouth. Instantly awake, I drew her to me, squeezing her breasts and fingering her molten cunt. “I tried, I really tried!” she protested, embracing me tightly while positioning her pussy for easy penetration. She gasped when I thrust into her, drawing herself up to slip the dress off of her body. She fucked me as though her sanity depended on it, coming long before I did, screaming out her pleasure and writhing from the intensity of it all. Afterwards, she lay there panting for more than a minute, then spun her body around to ream my pole from above and backwards, her legs nearly doing a full split on the bed, her big breasts bouncing up and down. When I exploded into her, she spread herself over top of me like a human blanket, trying to contact and warm as much of her flesh as possible.

“I need this!” she declared. “I need your cock! I’ll always need it!”

She burrowed her hand between our bodies and grabbed it tight, squeezing as though wanting her hand and my cock to merge into one thing.

“How is it that you’re here?” I asked. It couldn’t even be seven in the morning.

“I’m at an early church service,” she answered, stroking my cock up and down.

“I didn’t know you went to church.”

“I haven’t been in years, and I don’t intend to start. But Taylor will never go near one, and he’ll never know I never made it.”

“Clever,” I observed.

“I’m not built for church,” Mira said, sliding down to cup my balls in both hands, then resurrecting me with her tongue. “I only worship this.”

I liked the way she looked at things. Maybe that was why I went biblical on her and fucked the holy living crap out of her divine body.

The hidden immersion commands too powerful to overcome, Mira didn’t even try to stay away after that. The tortured “I can’t do this!” phone conversations evaporated, although I’d sometimes get a desperate call in the middle of the night when she needed to hear me talk dirty to masturbate properly. She managed to change her schedule, too, to help us see each other more often. She had been busy creating a dance/aerobics class for teens that met at dinnertime on Mondays and Thursdays, and once in gear it providing opportunities for her to stop by my house for quickies on her way home. Her body was salty with sweat when she arrived, and stained with semen before she showered and drove back to her life with Taylor.

She also continued to surprise me with her filming/editing skills, and her inclination to use them for my cock’s benefit. The timing could never be predicted, but there were times when I’d come home to find a new cum-inducing video waiting for me. We shared the expense of a sophisticated motion-sensing camera and a tripod, which Mira sometimes took home with her to create incredible home videos for my stroking pleasure.

I found one particular film waiting for me after an exhausting day of work, and settled into my black leather chair to watch. I recognized Mira’s bedroom as the setting, with morning light filtering in through her windows, bathing the entire shoot in a warm, gauzy light. She wore a short, sheer nightgown, her hair all over the place as though she’d just awakened, after dreaming of sex with me.

She blew little kisses at the camera as she licked the head of her silver dildo, her thighs opening, the position of her body adjusting to give me a stunning view of her bare legs and her wet, swollen slit. Her fingers spread her labia wide, and then the silver cock- head appeared, stroking and probing, creating wet shiny trails down her thighs and up onto her abdomen. She let out a loud cry when she pushed it inside, and rolled over onto her knees, adjusting her body again so that her pussy and ass were featured from the rear, centered on my screen. In and out the dildo went in a slow, steady rhythm. She turned her head towards the camera, her eyes seductive, and said: ”I want to practice this, Michael. For you.”

I thought she meant getting fucked from behind, but that was before a greased finger crept into view, slipping inside of her firm smooth dancer’s ass. Her cries changed then, gaining heat as she seemed to lose control. I’d begun to pump my dick earlier in the film, but really went at it as I watched her fuck her two holes. We came together, her on her bed, me all over the side of my desk.

Other nights I’d open my front door to discover her waiting in person, all decked out in stockings and heels and some naughty outfit or another, half-crazed to get my dick inside of her. I’d find the video camera all set up in my bedroom on these occasions, and Mira would film us as we fucked, so I could masturbate over our sex together when her schedule didn’t allow a visit. She filmed us fucking, and even filmed us fucking while other films of us fucking played in the background. It was stimulating, to say the least, to hear her screaming out her orgasms at different moments in surround sound, as though I was fucking good Mira and naughty Mira and the hypnotized Mira caught in my tangled web of hypno-lust, all at once.

It was funny, how I had no girlfriend, yet I could practically map my sex life in my daily planner, and watch the Mira-oriented fuck sessions on my computer or TV, as though my home had become the set for an X-rated reality show. What was there not to like about my situation? The most amazing tits in the city came bouncing my way every Tuesday evening, the woman attached to the tits feeling like her pussy was carbonated and shaken, and ready to blow. The very best legs I’d ever seen opened wide for my tongue or dick two or three times a week, and I could spend my free nights watching reruns over popcorn, zooming in on certain delicious details or even watching Mira achieve her orgasms in slow-motion. I didn’t go out to many movies with friends or that sort of thing, but who cared? I couldn’t have been happier.

Except for the nagging feeling that the situation was a house of cards. Grace had pointed this out without even knowing the half of it, and her concerns were well founded. I didn’t doubt the power of the immersion commands — my “normal” work with addictions was going incredibly well, to the point that I received three invitations to give public lectures on the nature of addictions, and my successful techniques for vanquishing them. I got a call from a reporter, too, wishing to explore the possibility of a feature article in the local newspaper. The professional side of Michael was gaining attention, which made me nervous, as opposed to happy.

It seemed that I had much more to lose as my reputation grew, and it’s a psychological certainty that people feel a special thrill when they discover hypocrisy lurking in the private life of any so-called “expert”. How would it go down, if the therapist having so much success at combating addictions was outed having an affair with a married woman, while additionally porking a hypnotized lap-dancer with unbelievable tits? It didn’t take too much imagination to picture a grim head-shot of me on the front page of the paper, flanked by photos highlighting Rosita’s rack and Mira’s sexy legs. Great-looking women, infidelity, the misuse of hypnotic techniques for sexual gratification… I’d be the lead story on the late night news for months, and I’d deserve the pain.

Again, I didn’t doubt the power of the immersion commands, living there inside of Mira and Rosita. It was the unfortunate “random” intersection that most concerned me — Mira inexplicably showing up at my office while Rosita was sucking my cock, for instance, or Taylor happening to see Mira’s car turn onto my street after her class. With just the slightest hint of suspicion, he could enlist the services of a private investigator, and the game would be up. After six weeks of problem-free hypno-sex on this new “schedule” with Mira and Rosita, I began to get an uneasy feeling, some sort of intuition that it was all about to change.

I’m not stupid. I said earlier that people don’t allow themselves to fall far enough, but I drew a line somewhere above public humiliation and having my entire professional life shut down. I couldn’t bring myself to erase the sex videos that Mira made for me, but I burned them to a single DVD and carefully hid the disk where it would never be found. Mira probably had copies; in fact, she could shout out our misdoings to the heavens if the mood struck her, but I didn’t think she would. Plus, even she didn’t know how deep the misconduct went. In her mind, she wasn’t a sex-obsessed victim of therapeutic misconduct; she was just an unhappily married and cock-obsessed woman having an affair.

I took reasonable precautions to make myself feel safe; at the same time, I didn’t stop fucking either woman. I couldn’t say no when I opened my front door in the evenings, and found Mira’s nylon-clad legs wrapping around my head, her sweet wet cunt aimed at my mouth. Likewise, and I did nothing to alter Rosita’s fevered Tuesday fuck- state, even though I had ample opportunities. In fact, I kept hypnotizing her further, pouring so many sexual commands into her psyche that whatever “real” Rosita I’d been working with at the beginning of our sessions was now mostly drowned in lubricating fuck- juice. She still arrived for her sessions — punctually, as I’d commanded — but that was all a pretense I’d allowed to go on, so she could dream that this was all meant to help her somehow. The truth was stark, and made me so damned hard: The pressures bubbling inside of Rosita were those of an increasingly obedient cum-slave, nothing more.

I don’t know what would have happened, if events had gone in some other direction. Perhaps my deliriously exciting sex life would have continued without the least bit of trouble for a very long time; or, more likely, some slip-up would have occurred, causing the painful public humiliation and professional disgrace I so wanted to avoid.

Grace said that she would catch me before I fell, and she did. She thought of it simply as payback, whereas I surprised myself by believing in the presence of a more subtle hand.

A brief personal parable, to illustrate my viewpoint: I remember the first time I went downhill skiing. I was a cocky teenager, confident of my agility and too proud to take lessons. It was night skiing, the slope especially icy, and fast. Barely able to walk in my skis, I rode the lift to the top of the run, naively pointing myself straight downhill. I went for it, too stupid to even be fearful.

It took about ten seconds to realize how foolish I’d been. Moving in a straight line as I was, I picked up speed, and kept picking up speed, and having no knowledge of how to adjust my path or stop, there was no way to avoid picking up even more speed.

I might have died, or been severely injured, but for the poor woman who happened to cross my path. She didn’t know that she was saving me — she had no clue that I was even there, speeding towards our inevitable point of intersection from behind. When I blasted into her, sending the two of us sprawling, she had nothing but curses for me and my idiocy. Strange, how even through her wrath and the ensuing insults, I could only see her as a tool, a woman placed there for my benefit by the hand of some guardian angel.

It might be too much, to believe that Grace became the tool for some “higher” power like that, all to help me avoid the horror of a catastrophic fall. She said herself that she was only trying to thank me for intervening with Lucinda on her pussy’s behalf. Grace might not have felt so generous if she’d understood that her conflict with Lucinda was the result of my earlier, more selfish intervention, but what the hell. She was grateful, and I was grateful that she didn’t know any better.

I’m no philosopher, or theologian. I could pick things apart forever and never know why things happen as they happen. Whatever the reasons or the forces at play, the key event transpired on a Tuesday evening, six or seven weeks after Taylor’s trip to Africa.

Rosita arrived for her appointment as usual, long after my receptionist left for the day. I bound her mouth the second she closed the door, turning my eyes into lasers aimed straight at her huge rack. She sank to her knees, crying her muffled delight into the tightly bound cloth, her eyes pleading with me, begging for permission to pull my cock out of its lair, or perhaps to play with herself. I didn’t play along, continuing to stare at her tits, making a motion with my hand for her to strip out of her clothes.

She unzipped the front of her black leather dress, her huge breasts seeming to fill my office, her nipples like twin marbles dying to be rolled. Knowing how it would affect her, I kept admiring her rack, licking my lips and rubbing my erection through my pants.

It took about three minutes for her to come. I never touched her, nor said a word, and she never touched herself. My gaze alone was enough to heat her past the boiling point. I pulled my cock out into the light as she writhed on the floor, shuddering and screaming into the gag. Even in her state of ecstasy her eyes locked onto my hands as I began to stroke my thick pole, verrrry slowly and verrrry lightly. A new series of moans flooded the room, her tone of voice imploring. She was begging me to jam my rod deep inside of her.

As I mentioned before, I had never actually fucked Rosita in my office, and I wasn’t going to do it now. There were two reasons for this: The first, that I wanted to be able to testify, under oath or even monitored by a lie detector if necessary, that I had never fucked a woman in my office. The second reason was that I had crammed so many immersion suggestions into Rosita by this point that I could have sooo muuuch fun without actually fucking her. Office time was twisted foreplay time, our way to heighten and extend the pleasures of our unique relationship.

“On your knees,” I commanded, and she pushed herself up into position like the obedient fuck-whore she was. “Suck me, Rosita. Suck me off.”

She looked up, her eyes both ravenous and questioning.

“No, you cannot remove the gag,” I answered. “Find a way to do it.”

It was fucking retarded, the way she tried to slip her tongue over or under the cloth. Desperate to find a way to do my bidding, she settled on a strategy of saturating the gag with her saliva, and trying to surround enough of my cock with it to give me something resembling a satisfactory blowjob.

This, along with her astounding tits, was the reason I got so painfully hard every time Rosita and I went at each other. Whereas Mira shocked and awed my dick and my mind with playful, creative ways of dressing and teasing and filming and fucking, Rosita was like a big-tit wind-up sex doll, an obedient piece of cum-slave ass who would probably charge headlong into a brick wall if I commanded it.

Her impossible blowjob had me on the edge of exploding, not because the physical sensations were so exquisite — they weren’t — but because she was so desperate to do it, even though it couldn’t be done. She might have found some way to chew a penetrating hole in the gag if I’d let her continue, but I changed the rules on her, telling her that I needed to watch her swing her boobs around for me while she dreamed of sucking my cock.

“If you can come in less than a minute,” I sweetened the deal, “I’ll eat your pussy, right there on the floor.”

Rosita moaned deliriously into the gag as I set the timer function on my watch. Still on her knees, she threw herself into the mission wholeheartedly, arching her back and gyrating her hips to create the appropriate motion. Her eyes were closed as she made her boobs swing in synchronized circles, strange cries issuing from her gagged mouth.

I fucking loved to watch her tits move like that, and she knew it, which is probably what helped her to explode so quickly. She detonated at the fifty-six second mark, her skin flushing red all over her hot body. She fell over onto her back, her legs spread wide, and I moved in, sampling her tasty secretions with my probing tongue, essentially turning her into a perpetual orgasm machine, one eruption sliding into the next, and on and on.

She lay panting, looking almost shattered on my office floor when I was done. I left her there, and for the final twenty minutes of her hour-long session, I put her into the immersion state, patiently repeating commands over and over. I’d been working on her for the past three weeks like this, trying to instill a particularly challenging talent into Rosita’s mind and body. Inspired by Mira’s fantasy of making love in public, I’d gotten the idea of being able to give Rosita as many small, silent orgasms as I wanted, just by snapping my fingers. I thought of them as microgasms. I didn’t know if it was possible to create this ability, but I kept working at it. If successful, Rosita wouldn’t even know of their existence until I wanted to unveil them, and I could imagine how much fun they’d be if I got her and her huge rack out in a crowd somewhere.

I was rather pleased with myself when Rosita left, because I finally got the microgasms to work. Holding those cards for another day, I told her to finger herself the entire drive home, and to wait for me on her knees inside her door, dressed like a cheap whore in one of the sexy outfits she’d bought for my pleasure. As had become our pattern, I gave her a fifteen-minute head start, remaining in my office to clean any cunt-stains from the room and tie up loose ends. I made a few notes on matters I’d need to address first thing Thursday morning, and was just grabbing my jacket when I heard a soft knock on my inner office door.

I froze. Rosita, coming back for something? Perhaps Mira, ready to give me another wonderful surprise?

“Michael, it’s Grace,” I heard through the door. “May I come in?”

I opened the door, and the look on her face said it all.

“I had an interesting talk with your last ‘client’,” she said, frowning.

“Ahhh… You must mean Miss Bello.”

“Miss Below?

“Bello.”

“Miss Blow?

“Grace… Are you trying to infer something? Just because…”

“No, don’t do it, Michael. Don’t fucking lie to me, or treat me like an idiot. I’m quite familiar with the scent of pussies, and you have about half a gallon of it lining your lips and chin.”

“I…” I stopped, and could only stare down at my feet.

“What are Miss Melons’ supposed issues? How difficult it is to find a quadruple-D bra? I knew it the second I saw her. Not only does she look like a happy-meal, she had a look in her eyes that might as well have been an advertisement for how sweet and tasty your dick feels between her balloons.”

“Busted,” I joked, but she wasn’t in the mood. “What brings you here, Grace?”

“I thought I came to give you half a chance in resisting Miss Torso. Now I find you’re in deeper doo-doo than I imagined! Thank God I came, Michael! You need someone to save you, and I’m not a moment too soon!”

“Grace, I don’t need to be saved. I…”

“Like hell you don’t! You’re fucking a client, Michael!”

“Keep your voice down, please.”

“Or what? The whole world will know, and you’ll lose your whole fucking future? Your whole fucking future, Michael, gone with the wind. And you say you don’t need saving? Are you crazy?”

“Maybe we should go elsewhere, and talk about my issues in a less clinical setting.”

“Fuck that,” she said, walking past me and sitting in the chair I used while working on my patients. She picked up a pen and clicked it the way I sometimes do, and beckoned me to the couch.

“You’re going to analyze me?” I asked, incredulous.

“Somebody needs to.”

“I’m not going to play this game, Grace.”

“You’re not dodging this, Michael. We’re going to… Oh holy shit. Holy fucking shit!”

“What?”

“You hypnotized that huge-titted bombshell, didn’t you?”

Whoops. Grace had made the intuitive leap, which couldn’t be good.

“Oh, this is awful!” she cried, getting up and pacing. “I never thought… Oh Michael!”

Her thoughts were obviously skipping forward, but I couldn’t tell which of my many lies she’d hit upon.

“I’ve corrupted you!” she declared.

I stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, then got it.

“Fuck!” she shouted. “Dammit, Michael, when I said you were sitting on a goldmine and I called it cum-therapy, I never meant to put this idea into your head! It’s all my fault!”

“But…”

“It’s so obvious… You saw it working so well for me with Lucinda, and in walks your gorgeous client with the giant ta-ta’s. I can understand the attraction, and I certainly can’t judge… Shit, I practically drew a map for you, to use your technique for sex. But she’s your client, Michael! You could be totally fucked doing something like this!”

I couldn’t lie to her, but neither could I get the words flowing to confess the whole thing, and how much farther it went than she could even guess. Caught in no man’s land, I merely shrugged my shoulders.

“Oh Michael, I’m so sorry. That’s even more karma for me to deal with. I got here just in time! Oh thank God we’re going to dinner!”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, finally finding my voice.

“Go wash the cunt off your face. I’m taking you out to dinner.”

“Dinner?” I asked.

“Dinner,” she repeated, giving me a thumbs-up sign. “And wash yourself really well. I don’t want to smell Miss Melons’ pussy the whole time I’m eating.”

I didn’t know what Grace was up to, but it sure had fucked with my plans of fucking Rosita all night long. I felt awful calling her, to tell her that I wouldn’t be showing up at her apartment as expected. I got her answering machine, and felt like a man mistreating his loyal, obedient dog when I left my message. With Grace standing nearby, listening, I had to say that something had come up, and I’d be unable to make it. My actual plans involved the shortest delay possible, rather than a cancellation. I still wanted my big tit sex, especially since I’d gotten all worked up toying with Rosita, and really needed to park my dick on her or in her somewhere. I also worried what might happen to her when I didn’t show up. It would be Tuesday for another four hours, leaving her no choice but to feel a desperate need for my cock.

Grace and I left the office together, and I followed her car to a new Thai restaurant we’d been intending to check out for a few weeks. Once seated, with Thai beers in front of us, I asked what was so important about this dinner.

She shot me the first smile of the evening but gave nothing away. “Why don’t you tell me about the legitimate aspects of your practice — you do still have clients you don’t hypnotize into shoving their tits in your face, don’t you?”

“That’s a low blow, Grace.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. But really, I hear you might have a feature story written about your practice. And you’re starting to give lectures on addictions and their treatment, correct?”

I told her of the recent inquiries into my work, and some of the immersion breakthroughs taking place in my practice. I kept trying to read Grace, because she was giving out unusual signals. It didn’t appear that she knew about my additional secrets — hypnotizing Mira, having sex with her girlfriend, all of that — but she knew something, that much was plain.

Because I had my back to the restaurant door, I didn’t see the new arrival until Grace’s eyes lit up. Turning my head, my eyes fell upon a petite young woman in a long coat, walking towards us and beaming a million dollar smile.

Grace got up and gave the stranger a warm hug, and made introductions. “Michael, this is Coral. Coral Brackedge.”

I took her hand and we locked eyes, and the interesting thing was that our eyes stayed locked. I didn’t know what was up with her, or myself for that matter. My eyes just didn’t seem to want to look away.

She was a real beauty. Small with dazzling features, and long wavy hair poised more towards red than brown. She removed her long coat and I tried not to stare, but took in the curves anyway. Even though she wore a stylish patterned vest over her black pullover blouse, I could tell that she had a wonderful hourglass figure, with a tiny waist and enough top-heaviness to make my pulse quicken.

“Does he know?” Coral asked Grace.

“Do I know what?”

“I’m your blind date,” Coral answered, her eyes still holding mine.

“I didn’t tell him,” Grace said. “He wouldn’t be here if I’d told him.”

“You’re shy with women?” Coral asked. “You don’t look shy.”

“I’m blind date challenged,” I explained. “Or at least I thought I was.”

“He likes you,” Grace grinned. “I knew he’d like you. I’ve got him all figured out now.”

“Good,” Coral said. “Because I think I could like him, too.”

She had wonderful lips, and blue eyes that grew wide every now and then as she spoke, as though they were visible exclamation points to accompany her words. Great jaw, chin just slightly pointed. I watched the way her nose wrinkled, and how much her cheeks puffed out when she laughed. Her smile was almost addictive, because you wanted to see it again as soon as it was gone.

“Well?” Coral asked, and I realized that I’d missed something.

“I… um,” I fumbled. “What was the question?”

“There’s your answer,” Grace beamed. “His brain is short-circuiting.”

“It’s a simple question, if a bit forward,” Coral said. “I just asked whether you could be interested in me, too. If Grace miscalculated, we can…”

“No miscalculation,” I answered, perhaps too quickly.

“Give me some credit for knowing a good set when I see them… Oops. I mean set-up, when I see one,” Grace said.

Coral smiled her addictive smile, but basically ignored the flirty faux-pas. “We keep exploring the possibilities?” she asked me.

“Definitely,” I answered.

We got through the regular stuff in record time — she was an Aquarius to my Gemini, she preferred French wines, I went for Italian, that kind of thing. I learned that she had been conceived while her parents, both marine biologists, were conducting field research on the Great Coral Reef off the coast of Australia, hence her name.

Coral was both a performance artist and first-year college art teacher, twenty-six years old, obviously intelligent and surprisingly knowledgeable about the history of Western psychology. Grace artfully directed the conversation at the beginning, steering us just a little, until Coral and I gained traction and needed no more steering.

Sitting across from these two beautiful women. I tried not to appear as shaken as I felt. Grace knew, though, and she knew that I could see that she knew. It felt as though life had suddenly become a push broom that was just sweeping me along, but somehow I didn’t mind. I had the weird sense that this event, and every little moment that made up this event, had always been there, just waiting to happen.

“I’m going to use the girls’ room,” Coral announced as we waited for dessert, and I studied every step of her journey to the back of the restaurant, liking what I saw.

“Wait until she takes of that little vest,” Grace said, looking as smug as a bug in a rug. “She’s not like your Miss Melons, but… You just wait. You’ll die when you see her legs, too.”

“What have you done to me, Grace?”

“I’ve saved you, unless you’re a fool. And I’ve repaid my debt. I found you the perfect woman, just like I promised.”

“She’s definitely special. Where did you find her?”

“At a theatre workshop, about a month ago. She wanted to extend her acting range for her performance art pieces. She’s pretty good — powerful stage presence, despite being so petite. Her eyes are mega- expressive, as you've seen. She's too sexy, though.”

“Too sexy? What does that mean? You’re sexy, and that doesn’t keep you from being a great stage actress.”

“Ah, but I’m a chameleon. Give me a grey wig and the right lines, and I’ll convince you that I went to grade school with your grandmother. Coral is creative, but not mercurial. She just stays sexy, and she can’t change that. Plus, she can’t sing to save her ass.”

“I think I could overlook that particular weakness.”

“Want to know my nickname for her?”

“You’ve already named her?”

“She was so easy. Take a guess. Coral Brackedge becomes…”

I brainstormed, hitting several variations on just one theme. “Something starting with ‘Oral’,” I said.

“Strikes one, two and three. It’s Total Package. And she is, isn’t she?”

“She just might be.”

“Wait until she takes off that vest,” Grace repeated, just as Coral emerged from the restroom.

The vest in question was draped over one arm as she made her way back to us. I felt the blood drain from my face as it hurried to my dick. Her breasts were large — not Rosita large, but then they didn’t have to be. It was all about proportions: small woman, big round tits, and fucking monster nipples. I stared, and realized that I shouldn’t be staring, but then realized that I couldn’t stop staring. The woman had big tits with puffies on top, to the point where I thought I might finally know what it felt like to be hypnotized.

“I hope you two were talking about me,” Coral smiled, her tits bouncing their way back into the booth.

“Michael was just saying that you have great boobs.”

I began to protest, but Coral just laughed. “I know it’s really Grace who can’t stop fantasizing about them.”

“Michael knows how to fantasize, too,” Grace parried.

Coral looked at me and caught me staring point-blank at the way her nipples turned a simple black pullover into a cock-hardening spell. “Maybe now, while we’re on this high-point, I should confess my one worrisome secret to Michael,” she said.

“Your secret?” I asked, suddenly wary.

“I don’t live here,” she replied. “In the city, I mean.”

I let the news sink in. “How far away?”

“Five hours by train or car.” She told me the city, and the name of the college where she taught.

“Why, isn’t that a coincidence?” Grace chimed, winking at me. “Michael… Aren’t you giving a lecture at that very school in two weeks?”

I could only shake my head in wonder. Grace was good. She was very good.

“If you stayed an extra day or two, I could show you around after your talk,” Coral suggested.

“I’d really like that.”

“Here’s my card, Michael. Call me anytime you want, as long as it’s soon. But now, I really must be going.”

“I’ll give you a ride to the train station,” Grace offered.

“You’re going back tonight?” I asked, surprised.

“Have to. I teach a painting class tomorrow afternoon.”

“She came all the way down just to meet you,” Grace chimed in.

Coral shrugged her shoulders, her cheeks puffing out with that smile. “And I’m glad I did,” she said, briefly taking my hand. “I really would love it if you called me soon.”

“Tomorrow night,” I said. “I won’t want to wait.”

“Mission accomplished!” Grace beamed.

It felt so strange, fucking Rosita half an hour later. For one thing, her state of desperation for my cock was nearly operatic. I had her pour a full sixteen ounce bottle of massage oil onto her tits before closing them around my rod, and I slipped and slid in hooter heaven, quickly painting her mouth and chin white.

We retired to the chair by the dance pole next. Grabbing one of the many sex toys I’d commanded her to buy, I handcuffed her hands to the pole and fucked her from the rear while she danced a twisting, screaming captive dance. I made her lick me clean. I made her fuck herself with an oversized vibrator without the use of her hands. I made her earn every three steps to her bedroom with an orgasm.

Later, using her boobs for pillows while recovering from the night’s games, I kept replaying the dinner with Grace and Coral in my mind, and I got hard again. I wanted to fuck Coral. I wanted to fuck her really really badly. Except that everything about her said “relationship”, not cum-slave.

A relationship. As much as Grace wanted me to have one, and as much sense as it should make, it surprised me that I would even consider such a thing, because it could only create complications with my current sex games. I heard Mira’s voice in my brain, and felt shivers run through my body: You can’t have a girlfriend, Michael. Not now, not later. I have the key to your house and you have a film of me seducing you in your house. We belong to each other now. She had said that back near the beginning, back when she was still trying to resist. Having fucked me so many times since, and with more powerful immersion suggestions screwing with her psyche, how would she react now?

Again, I had that sense of life sweeping me forward. I was in control of certain things: Rosita’s body and mind, almost completely; Mira quite effectively, but to a lesser degree. Did I have, or could I have, any control of what Grace would term my karma?

I shifted my head on Rosita’s soft flesh-pillows, imagining my lips opening to suck on Coral’s remarkable nipples.

“No,” I whispered into the dark, trying not to picture how that brilliant smile might transform itself into an expression of sexual bliss. I failed. Seeking a fallback position, I tried to promise myself that I wouldn’t call her. I would phone Grace in the morning, and tell her that she had misread my tastes, and that I wasn't really interested. I failed again.

Hell. I would call Coral as I'd promised, and I'd probably want to spend as much time with her as possible when I visited her campus.

I wasn’t even in control of myself.