James and Samantha
Chapter 1
NickelModelTales
- NICKELMODELTALES:
Thanks for contacting me. Your name is…?
- JAMES:
“James.” Let’s use that.
- NICKELMODELTALES:
Not your real name.
- JAMES:
Yeah, correct.
- NICKELMODELTALES:
Okay.
James, I write erotic fiction. I don’t really post “real-life” stories. I’m not a journalist.
- JAMES:
Yeah, but my story would go with all your stories.
- NICKELMODELTALES:
How so?
- JAMES:
Its about a gorgeous woman who is hypnotized to have sex.
- NICKELMODELTALES:
But your story... its a true story?
- JAMES:
Look—I was online and I found your AOOO archive. At first, I thought your stories were pretty lame—especially the ones in space. And the ones on pirate ships. And the weird one about the A.I. ladies. And the ones about the giant snake guy-
- NICKELMODELTALES:
Okay, I got it.
- JAMES:
...but then, I thought: I want my story to be told. My story needs to be told.
- NICKELMODELTALES:
Okay, fine.
(sigh)
Tell us about yourself.
- JAMES:
I’m in my mid-forties, I live in Ohio, I manage a large retail store that’s in a big, national chain. I make good money, but I spend it poorly. Like, really poorly.
I’m married, have three kids, one dog. My car is a ten-year-old Toyota Prius, my house is falling apart, my front yard is full of weeds, and my basement floods at least once a year. I don’t work out, but I don’t smoke or eat unhealthy, neither. I’m bald, which pisses me off, because I hate looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. I’m a huge hockey fan. Favorite band is Metallica.
- NICKELMODELTALES:
So how then-
- JAMES:
Hey—I don’t want this to be an interview. Just let me talk.
(…pause…)
I got into hypnotism back when I was in college.
See, back then, I was going to a local community college. A professional stage hypnotist came to our school to do a campus-wide show. My girlfriend-at-the-time, Chrissy, she volunteered to get hypnotized. She went up on stage with thirty other people, and I watched as she went under the hypnotist’s spell. When the guy snapped his fingers, Chrissy was dancing like a showgirl, then she was doing cheers like an NFL cheerleader, then she was posing like a sexy swimsuit model. I thought it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
That night, Chrissy and I had sex, and she was crazy wild in bed. As I was boning her, I knew: I had to learn how to hypnotize people.
So I emailed the stage hypnotist and offered to work for him, for free, if he’d teach me. It took a few weeks, but eventually the guy let me tag along for his shows. I traveled with him to his events, I helped him set up, I was his microphone guy, I got his McDonalds’, I did whatever he needed. He never really gave me any formal hypnosis lessons, I just sort of picked up what he was doing.
About three months after, I started hypnotizing friends, dates, people at parties, whomever was available.
Then I graduated. Joined the workforce. Got married, had my kids, moved to our town. I landed the management job.
Then, about when I turned 45, I met “Samantha.” Samantha is not her real name. I met her because I went to Indianapolis for a bachelor-party-and-wedding weekend, and Sam was the bachelor party stripper.
Ah, Sam. She’s a dark redhead, hot, in her early 30’s. Real pretty, gorgeous brown eyes. Petite, but curvy. Great butt. I remember when I first saw her naked, I thought she should be a professional nudie model. She’d make a fortune letting photographers snap pictures of her in her birthday suit.
Sam was the life of that bachelor party. She danced for us horndog guys, really putting her all into the music. I remember she did Metallica’s “Fade to Black” for her slow reveal number. Crazy hot. She did a special dance for the groom, letting him motorboat her titties. After, she performed lapdances at fifty bucks a pop, plus she did a few shots with us. She was real nice.
Maybe a year after that, my store sent me back to Indianapolis for corporate training. I hit a local strip club, only to discover that Sam was one of the dancers! She remembered me. She did a couple of private dances for me in the VIP Room, then we had a whiskey together at the club bar. She was down-to-earth, so easy to talk to. She was interested in me.
When the club closed, Sam came back to my hotel room with me, and we had sex. Yeah, some money changed hands.
Don’t judge me.
I was in Indianapolis all week so I tried to see Sam at the strip club every night. She danced most nights. She and I would meet up, we’d go back to my hotel room… and you know. She was so great in bed.
On my last night in town, I mentioned I was a hypnotist. Sam was intrigued. “I’ve never been hypnotized,” she said. She always wanted to experience it.
So that night, I hypnotized Sam. I used a standard hypnotic induction—nothing fancy—then gave her a buncha skits I remembered from my stage hypnosis days. Simple stuff. You know: You think you are a ballerina / You think you are a superhero / You think you are a Disney princess / shit like that. She did everything I told her to do. She even did the sexy stuff, like “Everytime I say ‘melons,’ you will lift your shirt and show me your boobs” or “whenever I snap my fingers, you will have a massive orgasm.” She liked that last one.
We had sex while Sam was still hypnotized, because I learned she was hot for Colin Farrell. So I hypnotized Sam to think I was Colin Farrell. She came while screaming out Colin’s name.
So after that, I made it back to Indianapolis with every chance I could find. I got Sam’s direct cell number. I’d text her when I knew I’d be in town, and she’d make an appointment with me. Of course, I had to pay her rates to see her. She charged about a thousand bucks an hour. That’s steep, but in my range. And I had to see her outside of her club’s hours, which either meant at 2pm in the afternoon or 4am at night. Monday nights were my favorite, because her club wasn’t open on Mondays, so I could see her at 8pm.
Every time I saw Sam, it would always be the same: I’d hypnotize her, have fun with her, then we’d have wild sex. For me, it was great—she was this crazy hot woman who screamed like a motherfucker whenever I plowed her. For her, it was also great, because I’d use the hypnosis to make her fantasies come true. Like, I could hypnotize her to believe I had the world’s biggest cock, Or that I was a porn star. Or an NFL player. Or other shit like that. One night, we were both a little high on ex, and I did this thing with her where I hypnotized her to think I was a pirate and she was my captive. That fantasy got a little weird, but it was also really, really, really hot.
Yeah, around this time, my marriage went to shit. I don’t want to talk about that.
I saw Sam whenever I could. Sometimes I’d see her every night for a week, other times I’d have to wait half a year before I could get to Indianapolis. Sometimes I had to put off seeing her, because I just didn’t have the money for her fee. She was my expensive crack habit.
This one time, I happened to be in Indianapolis for a last-minute business thing. Once I was in town, I called Sam. But the phone company autorecording said her number was out-of-service. I got worried, and went to Sam’s strip club. The other dancers said they hadn’t seen Sam in weeks. I freaked out!
But then, it turned out that Sam’s mom was in hospice, and she’d fallen behind on her phone bills. False emergency. Still, there was a good month or so when I thought I’d lost her forever. I was so goddamn depressed.
Anyways.
This one time last year, Sam and I got together, as usual. I made some remark about how we’d been seeing each other for five years. And she got this weird look on her face.
“Can I tell you something?” Sam asked me.
I said, sure, anything.
So then, Sam tells me that she’s turned on by hardcore, submissive sex. She’s always been into submissive sex.
Sam explained: Whenever she’s with a guy, her deepest fantasy is that the guy utterly dominates her. She wants to be the submissive sex partner, and she wants her guy to be as rough as possible. She’s always been like this, since when she was a young teenager. Sam never told me this before because guys can get the wrong idea. But after all our time together, she knew me well and she felt comfortable with me.
Sam’s submissive thing was a fetish. She explained that what she wants is for the guy she’s with to take her and make her to have wild, rough sex with her. Not that she wants to be raped! She wants the fantasy of complete helplessness when her lover grabs her and throws her onto the bed. I learned this is called “non-consent consent.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Sam said. “Can you hypnotize me to believe that I don’t want to have sex with you? But then you make me fuck you anyway?”
She explained:
“I don’t want you to force yourself on me,” Sam insisted. “But I want to feel like you’re using your hypnosis to take control of me and then I have to be your submissive slave girl. And then, you do me in whatever position you want.” She told me firmly, “I want it so that I can’t resist you, even if I tried. I want you to make me call you ‘master’ while we fuck.”
I was blown away. I mean, sure, I’d fantasized about the “Yes, master” thing with Sam. But I always figured that if I hypnotized Sam to say, “Yes, master,” she’d wake from her trance and be all pissed off. Hypnosis isn’t mind control, you know. You can’t make anybody say, “Yes, master.”
So I agreed. And we did it!
Our first hypno/dom session was pretty lame, because I got nervous. I think I told Sam to call me “master” once or twice and bend over for a light spanking. It really wasn’t submissive sex. And Sam got pissed off. So I promised her I’d do better the next time we met.
The next time was better. I’d gotten on the Internet and read about “non-consent consent.” It is a real goddamn thing. At first, I thought it was just a bunch of porn fantasies, but no. There are an awful lot of women who get off on being really submissive with their guy.
(There’s a shit-ton of guys who want to be submissive, too. That’s where you get dominatrixes and all that whips and chains and leather crap that I don’t get. And a lot of women sex workers make huge amounts of money by beating up and humiliating these guys. These men want to be Beta males and humiliated into worthlessness. Some want to be physically hurt by their dominant women, like, I mean punched real hard in the face. Personally, I don’t see it, but if that’s your thing, okay, whatever.)
For some women who are into the submissive thing, they like that their guy just takes charge and gets real demanding. There’s something erotic about a horny lover who grabs you and does you in his favorite position. The take-charge machoism is hot to these girls.
But being with a bossy guy isn’t the kink that Sam has. Sam is what she calls a “True Sub.” What she means is that she gets insanely aroused only when she’s dominated and physically forced into whatever position her lover wants. She craves that feeling of being trapped and unable to defend herself. For True Subs, the sex with their master is a double reward: Because its “non-consensual”, they can still maintain their sweet, virginal innocence. But they also get to enjoy the erotic benefits of filthy, rough sex, too. It’s a win/win.
For Sam, the sexiest word in the English language is “helpless.” She wants to feel helpless when I pin her down and enter her. She wants me to hypnotize her to be as helpless as possible. “Helpless”—she can get all horny and blush if I just whisper that lone word to her. That word can make her cum like a freight train.
I know what you’re thinking. If Sam is so into being super-submissive, couldn’t I fuck her without a condom?
The answer’s no. Sam loves the sub fantasy, but she isn’t stupid. No amount of hypnotizing her or physically pinning down is ever gonna make her okay with doing it without protection. It’s “non-consent consent”—that second “consent” means she doesn’t give up 100% control.
It took a couple of encounters, but Sam and I finally got the master/slave thing down. We were hardcore. Sex writers wouldn’t have believed the hot shit we did together.
On the night we would meet, our routine was always the same. I’d text her my hotel room. Then I’d leave the room door unlocked, so she could straight in, like the room was hers. I’d wait for her with the curtains pulled and all the lights out.
Sam was always on time. She’d come straight into the room, not turning on the lights. I wouldn’t greet her. No “hello,” no chit-chat, no nothing. I’d push past her and immediately lock the door. Then I’d grab her. I’d tear off her coat and purse, then shove her onto the easy chair.
Then I’d turn on only one light. I’d swing the pocketwatch before Sam’s face, aggressively telling her, “you are feeling relaxed, you will be my slave, you can’t resist.” I’d just repeat that, over and over and over and over. We used posthypnotics on Sam so that she’d always go into a trance when she heard those words.
Once Sam was under, I’d tell her, “And now, you are my hypnotized slave girl, you’ll do whatever I command you.” I once did this with my fingers inside her pussy, and I could feel her getting wet as I said these words. She really loved it.
Then I’d give Sam her commands. The first time we really got the master/slave thing working, I hypnotized her to believe that she was a spoiled rich girl, and I was her kidnapper. That I had grabbed her from her mansion or some such shit, and then I forced her into this hotel room. And now, because her rich daddy wouldn’t pay her ransom, I was gonna take my reward by having rough sex with her. Oh fuck, she loved that! She acted just like one of those trophy wife bitches you see on reality TV shows, and she came several times while I was tearing off her clothes.
Another time, I hypnotized Sam to think I was her boss and she was my secretary. I made her think that she’d done a crappy job and was about to get fired. She got real upset and started begging for her job.
I said, “I wanna fuck you hard, from behind!”
She cried, “No, not that!”
Then I grabbed her, hiked up her skirt and shoved down her panties. We did it against the wall, and it was loud and really, really incredible. I barely had time to get the condom on.
Another time, I hypnotized Sam to believe that she was a superhero, and I was the evil Dr. Hypno, and she’d come to the hotel room to stop me from using my powers on innocent women. But I used my skills to take away all her powers, then forced her onto the bed. That one was my favorite.
Sam and me have been doing the “hypnosis submissive” thing for a year now.
The amazing thing about Sam is, the more I hypnotize her to be my slave girl, the darker she wants to go. Before we’re about to meet, she’ll sometimes text me fantasies she wants to do. Some of her fantasies are really dark. She never wants to be tied up or humiliated—although that can be a big part of the “non-conscent consent” fetish. But she does want more fantasies where she’s imprisoned or forcibly enslaved. She’s also getting into fantasies where I tear off her clothes. So I’ve started buying for her those sex outfits that have Velcro, so you can tear them off.
The thing is… I first started seeing Sam because she was hot, she and I hit it off, and she was open to doing hypnosis in the bedroom with me. And I’ll never forget her for that.
But goddamn. Things have spiraled out of control, you know? My savings account is pretty low, my 401K is empty, and Sam is thinking about raising her prices. As good as we get along with each other, I know: if I run out of money, I’ll never see her again.
Sam’s a sex industry pro. She knows how to tempt a man and keep him interested. When I’m with her, its like she’s my best friend and good fuckbuddy, and she seems to genuinely care about me. But does she really? Or is she putting on a really convincing act? I’ll never know.
But for now, I’m hooked on the Sam Sauce. I see her again in four weeks. I’ve got it all planned out—when she comes in the room, I’ll grab her and hypnotize her by staring into her eyes. She’ll go into a trance within seconds. Then, once her brain is mush, I’ll hypnotize her to believe that she’s a sassy hotel maid, here to make the bed. She’ll be rude to me and maybe even insult me while she’s tucking in the sheets.
But every time I snap my fingers, Sam will be compelled to take off one item of clothing, real slow, real sexy-like. She’ll be aware of what she’s doing, but she won’t be able to stop herself. Once the clothes are off, she’ll give them to me, and I won’t give them back.
Then, when Sam’s naked, I’ll command her to get on the bed and play with her pussy. Remember, she will think she’s a maid, so this will be “forcing” her to do a dirty sex act. She’ll love it. And while she’s fingering herself? I’ll get naked too and put the condom on.
When she’s near climax, I’ll climb on top of her and fuck the shit out of her, missionary-style. She’ll scream with passion and call out, “Fuck me, master! Fuck me, master!” the whole time.
- NICKELMODELTALES:
That’s a pretty amazing story, James.
- JAMES:
Yeah.
- NICKELMODELTALES:
And all of it is true?
(…pause…)
- JAMES:
Yeah. All of it is true.