The Addicted Natural


Chapter 10 – The White Witch of Walden – Prelude I


(This is the last part in a series of three novelettes that I’ve come to think of as “The Addicted Natural Trilogy,” making up the rather protracted tale of how I caved in to the evils of temptation on several occasions and found myself in a somewhat enviable - albeit undeniably sinful - condition. If the various sections of this tome somehow find themselves scattered in the electronic spectrum, I’m afraid I must insist that you somehow locate the first two parts and peruse them as a reading assignment. “The Addicted Natural” contains the first four chapters of our story, and “Dee’s Diary” makes up the next five.) 

Now, before I can begin this, the strangest and most fascinatingly dramatic episode of the group, I must really spend a couple of chapters putting affairs in order, so to speak. For the events leading up to my introduction of the White Witch contain emotional, philosophical and prurient aspects that are essential to our plot. I’m sure that once you begin to understand how our new protagonist would come to interact with Brenda, Dee and yours truly, that the “setup” will be well worth your while. And then, obviously, if I’m going to introduce a new protagonist, I will also to have to come up with a new antagonist as well. And this next villain (however short his part in the drama may be) will, I assure you, certainly live up to your greatest expectations. But that, as I say, is for later.

I really need to address the four distinct relationships that existed at the house by the lake; those being my relationship with my lovely wife, hers with Dee, Dee and me, and the most important relationship of all, the rather more complicated state of affairs that existed between the three of us as a unit.  These I will discuss in rather colorful prose, I promise. 

But first I feel compelled to defend myself in the eyes of the reader. I suppose, if I’m going to give my side of things, I should revisit that fateful day that I first had my way with Dee sexually. You’ve heard her version, and I must admit that she made a rather accurate account of it; but now it’s time you heard “the rest of the story.” It certainly set the tone for the months that followed, and so I’ll call your attention back to that day. But even before THAT, I think I’ll do a bit of physical observation.

How to go about it ….  After careful consideration, I’ve decide to use that most abused of all literary vehicles: The Vignette.  Bear with me.


A CLOSER INTRODUCTION OF CHARACTERS

Yes, I guess it’s true (as pointed out in Dee’s Diary), I AM just a touch heavier than my true fighting weight, especially after Dee began preparing her gourmet meals; but she (with some suggestions from Brenda) soon switched to a more health-conscious fare; plus I started working out in our exercise room three times a week. I’ve dropped the weight I added since we moved here, and now I’ve put a good dent on the original 15 pounds. And Yes, I guess I DO have a “distinguished” hairline, but it doesn’t seem to be hurting my love life, as I’ll discuss more explicitly in the near future. 

Brenda, as both Dee and I have mentioned, is a very attractive lady. She’s petite, and while her figure is exceedingly nice, she’s small and sort of “little-girlish” at times. I admit it’s always been a bit of a turn-on for me. Her hair, long, straight, heavy, black and shiny, gives her an almost exotic, oriental persona. She’s young, effervescent, and extremely intelligent (or at the very least, extremely sharp-witted), and I’ve always found her personally, intellectually, emotionally and sexually challenging; which is why I love her. I would never think of changing any of those traits, though we both know I have the power to do so. To alter who she is through hypnosis would be to change the thing I most love in this world. And so, yes, we have our little disagreements, but not very often. I listen to her views always. That’s because she has an uncanny way of being right about things, especially emotional things. You’ll see what I mean when I tell you about the bombshell suggestion she made regarding Dee later in the next chapter.

Dee, for her part, is a true enigma. About five foot-five, wavy red hair, pale complexion with a smattering of freckles highlighting a smallish nose, and delicate, thin lips that turn up or down as various moods strike her. Bright, brown eyes that reflect a profound hidden intelligence when they aren’t cast submissively downward. She has a slender waist atop generous hips; but it’s her abundant breasts that attract the eye like a magnet. Women’s eyes as well as men’s. I really enjoy watching people watching HER when we all go out in public. Some women are just like that. They have a feature that makes it almost impossible to look away. I guess I’ve always been a breast-man. And judging from all those looks, there are a lot of us out there. 

And now, a short word about hobbies. There’s a fine line between a hobby and insanity. It’s another accurate observation that, while a hobby is infinitely interesting to the person who engages in it, discussing it is, at best, only mildly tolerable when conversing with someone who even shares that diversion. It is, at worst, monumentally boring when discussing it with someone who does not. I have two (not counting my recent propensity for collecting women). You’ve already been introduced to the first. And while philatelists and numismatists may rank pretty high on the old Boring Scale, they don’t hold a candle to bibliophiles. So, thankfully, I won’t talk to you about book collecting. I won’t talk to you about the second hobby, either. Have you guessed what it is? The clues were all there. I fish. Always have. Ever since I was a boy, and my Uncle Charlie took me out on Michigan after walleye and I hooked into an eight-pounder …. But no, I promised. I won’t talk about it. But it does explain my interest in Dee’s lake house, doesn’t it?

A couple months after we moved there, I bought a new Ford F250 extended-cab 4X4 with a tow package. I had to have something to tow, so I bought a nice (and I mean NICE) bass boat with a trailer. A big 5-man alpine tent, a king-size air mattress and a double sleeping bag, and the three of us were ready to strike out on some camping & fishing trips at other lakes in the area. (This has relevance to our story, I promise.)


THE DAY I BANGED MY WIFE’S BEST FRIEND


“Brenda, are you out of your MIND?!” I implored over the breakfast table.

She’d put on her “tolerant-sexy” face for the discussion, which, in my book, ranks somewhere between her “serious-sexy” face and her “pleading-sexy” face. She blinked at me (which was more like batting her eyes), and reached across the table to hold my hand.

“Freddy, I just KNEW you were going to react like this!” she chided. “You shouldn’t. I KNOW you like her. I caught you starring at her three times last night.”

“I thought I did an admirable job of keeping my eyes off the wench,” I retorted. “And I wasn’t staring, I was leering. There’s a difference. That’s just what men do. But it doesn’t mean she’s prettier than you are. In fact, if you’re jealous, there’s absolutely no reason to be. I think you’re much more attractive.”

“Oh Freddy, you’re such a silly goose sometimes! I’m not jealous! I’m just practical. You want her, I can tell. I’m offering to let you have her, that’s all. In fact, I’m going to insist on it.”

“You’ll ‘insist’ on nothing of the sort, my dear.” Ever since this weird conversation had begun, I’d found I couldn’t keep the image of Dee’s tits out of my mind. Brenda’s suggestion of hypnotizing her and taking her sexually had caught me completely off guard. I had never cheated on my wife, and I had no intention of doing so now. I told her so.

“You’re very sweet, darling,” she answered, changing to her “demure-sexy” face.  “But I think it’s hardly cheating if I insist you do it.”

I sighed. I could have been much more logical in my arguments if I could just manage to get that vision of Dee’s mammary glands out of my cerebellum. “What makes you think she really wants to make love to ME?” I implored.

“She doesn’t.”

“WHAT!?”

“Well, not yet. Not until you hypnotize her and convince her that she loves you.”

After staring unbelievingly at her for a long minute, I had to make a conscious effort to close my mouth. “You’re crazy!” I said. “That’s rape!”

“No, it’s not,” said the imploring-sexy face across from me. “She may not want it, but she NEEDS it. Once she loves you, THEN she’ll want it. And after she’s HAD it, then she’ll LOVE it!”

This was rapidly turning into an X-rated George Burns – Gracie Allen dialog. I took a deep breath and consciously pushed the image of the offending jugs out of my mind. They bounced back in like a pair of obnoxious water balloons.

“Brenda, I don’t know anything at all about this girl. I only met her twelve hours ago. I don’t know if I WANT to make love to her.”

“Liar!” said the amused-sexy face.

“I don’t even know her last name!”

“Neither do I.”

Time for another gawking silence.

She sat back in her chair and put on a face that was a cross between her “logical-sexy” look and something entirely new. I’d come to recognize it in the next several months when she talked about Dee (and even later when she would speak about the White Witch). It was empathy. But this was the first time I’d seen it in this context, and it really caught me by surprise.

“Freddy,” she said imploringly, “Dee’s a very complex person. I’ve only known her for a few days myself, but in that time we’ve formed a bond that I’ve never had with another person. I think she’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and I think I’d do just about anything to keep that friendship alive for as long as I can.” She paused to let that sink in.

“She’s an extremely private person,” she continued. “I know I could find out more about her, but I also know she doesn’t want me to. I respect that, out of friendship. She DID tell me some things about herself; but again, I don’t want to tell you, even though I know you could make me if you wanted to. But I don’t think you will, because I know you respect ME the way I respect HER. And I know that tonight, when you have her completely in your power, you won’t pry into her private life because of that respect.”

“I’ll just rape her!” I said sarcastically. She ignored the comment.

“I think I CAN tell you a few things without betraying her trust. She’s had one lover, but she was never really IN love with him at all; and he most certainly never loved her. He betrayed her.” She paused again. “And her father beat her.”

“Beat her?”

“Horribly. With a whip. Her back is covered with scars. I saw them when we showered at the health club.”

I thought about that quietly for moment. “Do you think we could convince her to press charges against the sadistic bastard?”

She shook her head. “Her parents both died suddenly a few months ago. Now, she’s all alone, and she believes that she’ll never be with a man again because of her disfigured back. You see, she’s never had real love. That’s what you can give her tonight. You can give her the gift of love. Not yours; you can give her the ability to love a man; to love YOU. She’s read about it; she’s seen it in movies. But she’s never really experienced the emotion herself. Just for tonight, you can give her that emotion; you can let it overwhelm her, let her revel in it; and then you’ll let her make love to the man she loves. It’s her greatest emotional need. And you have the power to give it to her.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” I asked, the mental vision of Dee weakening me. “We only just met. Why don’t we get to know each other for awhile, and if you still feel this way in a few weeks, we can discuss it again.”

She cast her eyes downward so I couldn’t see them. “I have a reason, Freddy, but I don’t want to tell you. Please don’t ask me.”

She was giving me a riddle. An emotional puzzle. I’ve always been a sucker for puzzles. “Aren’t you just a little afraid I might fall in love with HER?”

“I bet you WILL,” she answered, her eyes still on the table in front of her. “Once you get to know her the way I do, I don’t think you’ll be able to help it. She’s the most utterly loveable person I’ve ever met. And no, I don’t feel threatened in the least. I don’t think your loving her will decrease your love for me. My friendship for her hasn’t decreased mine for you. And I WANT you to love her. I want you to HELP her!”

“Look at me!” I ordered. Her head snapped up and I could see tears in her eyes. I really wanted to get to the bottom of this. “Look into my eyes,” I commanded sternly.

“Oh!” she said in a small, meek voice. I’d caught her off guard.

“Relax … relax ….”  Her shoulders slumped, then her eyes blinked closed and seemed to struggle to open again, still locked into my own. We did this almost daily, and her inductions only took a few seconds now. “Relax … heavy … so sleepy. Heavy arms … heavy head … heavy breasts. So heavy. So nice.” Her hands were resting in her lap. Her head bobbed forward and wobbled back, her eyelids almost closed. “Submit and obey.”

“Submit and obey. Submit and obey,” she intoned.

“And now, as sleep comes, let your head lower gently to the table. Sleep is coming. So sleepy. It’s almost here ….” Her head sank to the tabletop and she rested her cheek on its surface. “Surrender and sleep.” 

And she was under. Her breasts and cheek were resting on the table, her hands still stuck in her lap. I sat and regarded her for long minutes. I could do this the easy way or the hard way. A simple order from me, and she’d tell me everything she knew about Dee. The information was mine for the taking. I started to give her the order, but stopped before I got the first word out. I thought about it for another minute. 

Finally, I sighed and sat back in my chair watching my lovely hypnotic slave as she slept peacefully. Oh, what the heck. I’ve always done things the hard way, anyway. I reckoned that having her tell me the solution to this problem was tantamount to peeking at the answer to a crossword before I worked the puzzle. “Wake up, Brenda,” I said softly.

She sat up abruptly, yawned enormously and stretched, her nipples visible beneath her t-shirt and thin bra. She suddenly seemed to remember our conversation, and her eyes regarded me questioningly, then shifted downward as she tried look into her own mind for an important thought. She blinked and smiled up at me.

“You didn’t make me tell!” she said, grinning broadly. She seemed very certain of herself. I said nothing.

Smiling broadly, she rose and pulled the t-shirt over her head in a smooth motion as she walked around the table toward me. She dropped it on the floor, reached behind her with both hands and unsnapped the brassiere, letting it drop, as well. She knelt at my feet, grasped my knees and pushed them apart, then undid my belt, unsnapped and unzipped my pants in a couple seconds, pulled my engorged cock from its confines, and lowered her mouth to engulf it. She made smacking, sucking sounds as she worked on me. Her right hand was stroking my shaft up and down while her left squeezed and massaged my balls. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. In my mind, Dee stood before me, hypnotized, passive, aroused. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, just as Brenda had done. Her huge breasts swung free.

Brenda made a surprised little noise as I filled her mouth. I was coming very hard.



That night, as Dee moved her body up and down on my cock and her big breasts bounced and swung just inches from my thirsty eyes, I was forced to admit to myself that reality is sometimes much better than fantasy.



THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE


Brenda walked around the house toward me, and despite how upset I was, I found myself shocked at the expression on her face. I couldn’t read it. She was as anxious as I was, but as you may have come to understand, our responses to anxiety are dramatically different. She stood meekly before me but couldn’t make eye contact. I was concerned about her, but much more concerned about the emotionally fragile woman inside the house.

“Brenda, something’s horribly wrong! Our little ‘plan’ backfired in a huge way! Dee’s in a terrible state of mind! I can only imagine why! I RAPED her, Brenda! She’s such an emotionally …” I groped for the word, “… delicate girl! And I RAPED her! Oh God, what am I going to do?”

She reached out and touched my arm. “You didn’t rape her, Freddy. What happened last night is not what this is all about.”

That didn’t make any sense, so I decided to ignore it. “You ought to see her, Brenda! Her eyes are wild! She’s a mess! She shies away from me and she can’t even look at me. She hates me!”

“It’s not you, Freddy.”

“I’m afraid she might be suicidal!”

She looked down at her feet. “Yes, she is.”

“You were right yesterday! I was only alone with her a few hours, and I really fell for her! I really care about her! And now I’ve gone and ….” I paused and blinked. What she’d just said finally registered in my frantic mind. “WHAT?”

She couldn’t make herself look up.

“You mean you KNOW she’s suicidal?” I asked accusingly. “You mean you knew it BEFORE …?”

“I was trying to save her, Freddy.”

“Save …?”

“I thought that maybe if she found love ….”

My head suddenly felt as if it was about to explode. I reached up, held it with both hands and glared down at her. She still couldn’t make herself look at me, and it suddenly dawned on me why. She’d used me. 

I caught her looking past my shoulder, and I turned to look at Dee standing at the living room window. I couldn’t maintain eye contact. I’d never felt more abjectly guilty about anything in my entire life.

“I have to go in and talk to her now, Freddy,” Brenda said in a tired voice. But she didn’t move. She was waiting to leave until I gave my consent.

I forced myself to settle down. “We can go in together. I need to tell her how sorry I am ….”

“It’s not you, Freddy. She only came here to tell me good-bye.”

“Good-bye?” This was suddenly getting very bizarre. “You mean she knew that you knew …?  I don’t understand any of this! If it’s not me, then why is she going to …?”

“I don’t know. I thought I did. I thought she needed love. But you gave her that last night. Now, I don’t know ….” She stared down at the ground. “Please, Freddy. Please let me go to her.”

I sighed. “I know a guy on campus,” I said, trying to take control of a situation that seemed tenuous and uncertain. “A fishing buddy. He’s a clinical psychiatrist. We can take her to him.”

“I promised her I wouldn’t try to talk her out of it, Freddy, but I’m going to go inside and break that promise now.” She seemed on the verge of crying.

“If you can’t talk her out of it,” I told her very sternly, “then you are not to let her leave. Call me and I’ll force her to go see my friend. I won’t let you go to her unless you promise me that.”

“Okay, Freddy.”

“Promise!”

“I promise, Freddy.” And she turned and went inside.

It had to have been the longest twenty minutes in the history of the world. I paced for awhile, considered barging in on them, paced some more, then thought about peeping in the window; but I finally wound up pacing again instead. I suddenly decided to go and remove the distributor cap from her car so she couldn’t sneak past me while I was busy with my pacing, but when I walked to the front yard, I found that Brenda was way ahead of me. She’d blocked the Mercedes in the driveway with her Volkswagen. Just as well. I don’t know anything about automobiles. Hell, I couldn’t tell you if a car like that even HAS a distributor. So I just went back and paced some more.

But when she finally came back out, Brenda had changed. She’d put on sort of a shy-sexy-imploring-sexy-emphatic-sexy-meek-sexy face, and I could tell something was going to happen. 

“How is she?” I asked, hesitantly.

“She’s okay, Freddy. I talked her out of it. It’s over.” She looked down at her feet again. “Freddy, …?”

Here it comes, I thought. “What?”

“Freddy, I want you to make her your slave. That’s what she wants, Freddy. I want to keep her with us. I want ….”

“WHAT!?”

“I want …”

“NO!” I screamed. “NO! NO! NO!” I suddenly realized that I’d balled my fists and was actually stamping my feet. “You can’t “keep” a person! She’s not some puppy you found by the side of the road! She’s a WOMAN!”

“Sure you can, Freddy. I’m a woman, and you keep ME.”

“WHAT!?”

“I’m your slave, Freddy. I love you more than the air I breathe, but I could never leave you, even if I wanted to. I’m your hypnotic slave. You OWN me! And now you can own her, too!”

“NO! Absolutely not! I have you and you have me, and that’s quite enough, thank you!”

“Think about it, Freddy!” Her eyes were big and bright and dreamy. “You could have her anytime you wanted. You could have either one of us! We could be like sisters! Sisters in slavery!”

The two of them, naked, meek and obedient, suddenly walked into my fevered brain and stood awaiting my orders; waiting to serve my every need. I shook my head, trying to clear it.

“NO!”

“And not only that, Freddy,” she said demurely. “If she is yours, then everything she has is yours.”

The picture suddenly expanded. The two naked beauties were standing in front of that car. That beautiful car. And the car was parked in front of the lake house. 

“NO.”

“She loves you! And you love her. And you can HAVE her, Freddy. You can save her, and you can have her … forever.”

The lake ….

“No.”

She was looking past me again, and I turned, and there she was. Dee had obviously been crying. Her eyes were wide, like a deer caught in the headlights, and she was suddenly a little girl in a woman’s body. Her chest was rising and falling as she breathed. She saw me staring and her breath seemed to catch, and she held it, accentuating those breasts. She seemed so fragile and meek and feminine. The classic lady in distress. She was really very, very lovely. God, those breasts!

I suddenly realized that Brenda hadn’t said anything in a very long time, and I turned back to look down at my beautiful, enigmatic wife. She was holding her breath in anticipation, too, and I slowly came to understand that they were both waiting for me to say something, though surely Dee couldn’t hear me.

If she wasn’t so damned pretty! Both of them! Begging to be my slaves. Needing to be my hypnotic playthings. And that house …. And then, there was the suicide threat, which I could solve simply by enslaving her; making her my willing sexual servant. And that car …. And she needed my control. My complete and total control. And the lake …. And those breasts; those marvelous breasts. 

Brenda was still holding her breath.

I nodded.



THE GREATEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE


What had Menlo done to Brenda? For more than a year, I really thought I knew the answer to that. I’d found out about the “room below the room.” I’d even “changed” Brenda in small ways, with regards to her low tolerance to alcohol, as well as her perception of my manhood. But while this really seemed to satisfy all the various theorems of hypnotic mind control as I saw the equations, it slowly, finally dawned on me that I had horribly underestimated the man. And by the time I discovered this error, the world had lost all traces of Diana Darlingshire forever. One of the greatest sins of my entire life is the sad fact that I unwittingly eradicated a living, breathing human being and replaced her with someone else. 

I discovered my error this way:

On the fateful evening I first hypnotized Dee, I was absolutely flabbergasted by my ease of putting her under my control, and by how I was able to take her into the deepest realm of hypnotic trance so effortlessly. Keep in mind that she was the first person I’d ever actually attempted to hypnotize (besides my lovely bride, who from the very beginning, had literally begged me to place her under my power). Once I had Dee as deep as she was able to descend, I spent great pains introducing her to her own “room,” which I attempted to match exactly to Brenda’s. I led her to her own “room below,” and saw no harm in subjecting her to the same “changes” I’d made in Brenda. 

Getting tipsy on a single glass of wine wasn’t that big a deal, I surmised, and even if she was later confronted by someone who had once seen her down a whole bottle, she would probably be only mildly confused. So I used “the way it always was,” etc, etc; just like Menlo had drilled into Brenda. I also used the lower room to make the same “suggestion” that my cock was the largest she had ever seen, or ever would see. I wanted her to remember me fondly, and I was relatively sure that my “over-endowment” would not spoil things for her in her future sexual relationships with other men. Likewise, the existence of an overactive G-Spot couldn’t hurt anything, could it? I considered it my gift to her.

Back up in her real hypnotic “room,” I was careful to discuss her newfound “infatuation” with me in strictly temporary terms. Brenda’s arguments from that morning made sense. Sex in a truly loving relationship would certainly be much more meaningful than plain animalistic lust. The results, when I awakened her, were extremely gratifying. At least, they were as far as I was concerned. I don’t know why it never dawned on me that she would consider HERSELF the aggressor in the sexual act, and thus shift the weight of all the guilt associated with the evening onto her own pretty shoulders.

The following day, when I finally recovered from a near-coronary after finding out her true identity, I was more than a bit overwhelmed when I realized that the girl actually DID love me. In fact, as the days and weeks rolled along, she seemed to love me more and more all the time. Loved me to the point of idolatry; to the point of worship. I think I was more flattered than anything. Flattered even unto blindness, as the case turned out. It really, honestly never even dawned on me that her love for me was not true (well, not truly her own idea, at any rate), until I read her diary almost a month later. She had insinuated in her text that she thought her love for me had begun the moment she’d set eyes on me. “The way it always was,” she’d written, “and the way it always will be.” The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. I suddenly suspected that something was very, very wrong here.

After thinking about it for a couple weeks, I thought of a test that might shed some light on this new supposition. I walked up to Dee as she knelt in one of the flower beds planting some new type of posies. “Why don’t you plant some violets, Dee,” I asked innocently.

“Violets are weeds,” she answered, looking up at me and smiling.

“It just happens to be the state flower,” I observed.

“Oh, they’re pretty enough, but they’re really one of the most prolific weeds around. They spread by seeds, by rhizomes below the ground, by runners above the ground, and when the wind breaks off a leaf, it takes root and grows wherever it lands.”

I sat down on the grass beside her. “Would you like me to hypnotize you?” I asked.

“YES!” she answered immediately, emphatically. She turned and gave me her entire attention. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes suddenly appeared so heavy she could hardly keep them open. I said nothing; just smiled and returned her gaze. It was happening again. “Please …” she whispered, but her eyes could barely stay open now. 

This was yet another big difference between Brenda and Dee that was beginning to become more evident with each passing day. For despite all of Menlo’s talk that morning more than a year before, Brenda WAS addicted to hypnosis. If I went for more than a couple days without giving her the sweet surrender of the trance, she would become more and more anxious, and she’d finally come to me with her meek-little-girl face and beg plaintively for me to take her hypnotically. Dee, on the other hand, would never think about it at all until the hypnotic induction began. I had once gone a week without hypnotizing her, and she showed none of the anxiety that would seize Brenda. But, just as now, once the induction had started, she seemed to suddenly “remember” her addiction, and she would give in to the urge with impassioned, overwhelming emotion.

Now, I watched her trying desperately to maintain eye contact, but she was slowly losing the fight. Her arms hung useless at her sides. She swayed forward, and then she sat up straight again with a supreme effort that seemed to drain the last bit of strength from her. Her lips were mouthing her “Submit and Obey” mantra, but she was too weak to find her voice. Finally, smiling, I opened my arms to her, and she leaned forward, nestling into my body as she made a little moan of surrender. She had hypnotized herself. I’d never said a word.

I gently turned her and moved slightly, so that her head was in my lap, her body stretched out on the grass beside the flower bed. I ran my fingers through her thick red hair. The smile on her lips bespoke her absolute bliss.

“Dee ….”

“Yes, Master.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m lying naked on my bed in my wonderful room.”

“We’re just going to talk for a little while, okay?”

The smile broadened. “Sure, Master. I love talking to you while I’m in my room. I could do it forever!”

“Dee, I’d like to talk to you about violets.”

“You must really like them, Master. You’ve talked about them before. I’ll plant some, if you want.”

“No, no. I only want you to plant flowers that YOU like. I’ve given you that one freedom here at the house. You’ve done very well. Your flower beds are all beautiful.”

She blushed. “Thank you, Master.”

“But I want you to think about violets now. Picture them in your mind … see them in the early spring as they bloom in the woods. See them clearly. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Yes … yes they are. I never realized how lovely they are.”

“I think you might learn to like them more than you thought.”

“Yes. Beautiful ….”

“Wake up now, Dee.”

Her eyes sprang open, she blinked a few time, then did her yawning-stretching routine as she gave me her biggest “just-awakened” grin. She sat up and put her arms around me.

“Do you want me?” she asked tentatively. 

I laughed. “Yes, very much.”

She jumped up and tugged at my arm, pulling me to my feet while I laughed at her earnestness and she blushed at the inability to hide her raw physical need to please me. She began pulling me toward the house, but I had other plans. I led her over to one of the big oaks, pulled a cushion off the wooden swing hanging from a lower limb, placed it on the ground, and pointed down at it.

“Here,” I said.

She looked about her with wide, horrified eyes. “HERE?!”

“Take off your clothes, Dee,” I told her flatly. She hesitated. “Now!” And she immediately pulled her t-shirt over her head and began fumbling with her belt, always looking about her. She looked panicked. She was trembling. She was very, very lovely.

“There’s a boat out on the lake!” she whined. I turned and looked. The guys in the john boat were a long way out and hadn’t taken any notice of us yet. I reached out and held her slim, bare waist with both hands and maneuvered her so that the tree was between us and the boat. She hopped up and down a bit as I did this, her blue jeans down around her ankles, her hands behind her back, fumbling with her bra strap. When I let go, she sat heavily on the cushion and began pulling her shoes off. In a few more seconds, she sat completely naked. I had lain down, my hands behind my head, and I waited for her. There was a deep, pink blush that made her whole face look dark, especially against the contrast of her pale body. Her eyes were constantly casting glances in every direction, then demurely back down at the ground. I’d never seen her more nervous, and I wondered why we hadn’t explored the wonderful world of public sex before. 

“Wha … what do you want me to do?” she whispered.

I grabbed one of the pillows that had toppled off the swing when I had snatched the cushion, and I propped it behind my head and watched her with interest. “Stand up.”

“Oh, Master! …. Oh, please!” But she rose, naked and lovely, and stood before me.

Robert Darlingshire had purchased his lake house getaway in the form of six adjacent one-acre rectangular tracts, each 400 feet long, that abutted the lake at the lower edge. He had cleared the center two for the house and lake view, but he’d left the two on either side in dense woods and underbrush. So Dee’s little display wasn’t really too public at all. She could easily be seen from the house, but there was only Brenda there, whom I had left reading a book in the dining room when I walked down to talk to Dee. The tree hid her from the boatload of fishermen … for now, at least. Even so, as I made her turn around and display herself to me, she looked absolutely mortified. She shivered, though the weather was warm. I thought I knew the reason for that, at least in part, but my experiment hadn’t run its course yet.

“Now,” I told her firmly, after I’d made her turn and displayed herself to my heart’s content, “I will grant you the freedom to please me any way you wish.”

She took a few shuddering breaths, fell to her knees beside me, and began unbuckling my belt. In very short order, she had my cock out of my pants and into her moist, sucking mouth. Bent forward, bare and beautiful over her task, her big breasts swinging and bouncing wildly, she poured her heart into her efforts, and in extremely short order I found myself building toward a climax. I reached down and held her head in my hands as it bobbed up and down. 

“Touch yourself!” I ordered, and she immediately let go of my balls (which slightly slowed my steep ascent toward completion) and reached between her own legs. “Touch yourself in just the right spot,” I commanded. “I want you to make yourself cum soon. Very soon. Rub hard!” I gritted my teeth. This was happening fast. She moaned around my fleshy pole. Her body was still shaking, but for an entirely different reason now. I couldn’t hold back any longer, and as I began to spurt my seed down her throat, she gave a gurgling, muffled scream and convulsed violently as her own orgasm hit. She shook for many long seconds, then pitched forward and fell heavily across my body, breathing hard.

There were shouting noises from far away; whooping and cheering. The fishing boat had obviously drifted so that the tree no longer blocked the view, and the guys had seen us.

“Oh my God!” Dee muttered, still trying to catch her breath. 

After a long minute, I told her to get up. She held herself against me for protection and reached out to collect her clothes. “No,” I told her quietly but firmly. “Leave your clothes. I’ll bring them inside for you. I want you to get up and walk back to the house just the way you are.”

“Oh Master! Oh, please don’t make me!”

“What will you do for me if I command you?” I asked sternly.

“Anything,” she said, eyes lowered submissively. “Anything.”

“Go. Go inside and tell Brenda exactly what has happened to you here.”

She stood shakily, covered her breasts with her hands, then thought better of it and lowered her arms to her sides. She turned, utterly humiliated, and walked slowly back up the hill to the house. She was quite a picture. The guys in the boat apparently thought so, too. I zipped myself back up, stood, gathered up her garments, and followed. I never looked back at the lake.

In the house, the girls were nowhere to be seen, and I supposed that they were in Dee’s room talking. They shared everything, and I’d sort of figured that her story would be a nice little gift for Brenda (as it turned out, she had been watching us from the house with a pair of binoculars). I puttered around the in library for awhile. Eventually, I heard the sound of Brenda’s “coming noises” from that part of the house, and I knew that Dee’s story, along with some loving caresses, had had the desired affect.

The next morning, Dee and Brenda came into the library and announced that they were going for a walk. Brenda carried a picnic basket, and she asked me if I wanted to go along. There was a trail that wound along the length of each of the adjacent wooded lots, and the two of them would often walk down one, across the front of the cleared waterfront, and back up the other side. I declined, but asked about the small shovel and bucket Dee was carrying.

“I’m going to dig up some wild violets,” Dee announced. “I’m going to plant some in the upper flowerbed.”

“I didn’t think you liked violets,” I said, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, no, I love them! They’re my favorite flower! They always have been. They always will be. I can’t get enough of them!”

“You told me once that they’re just weeds,” I said. My worst fears were being realized.

Dee shrugged. “They DO spread easily,” she said thoughtfully. “But it’s worth it to see them every spring. They’re just gorgeous!” She smiled broadly. “They’re the state flower, you know.”

They walked off, hand-in-hand, out of the house and into the woods.

So that answered that. 

Brenda had two separate, distinct parts to her hypnotic “favorite place.” There was her room with its soft, comfortable bed, where we would talk comfortably and intimately. I might influence her when she was there, but there was never any danger of real change taking place in her mind. If I ever really USED that place, it was to find out something from her, for she had no secrets from me there. And a gentle suggestion that she might like pizza for dinner would result in us having pizza for dinner, nothing more. I never had to worry about pizza becoming her all-time favorite food. I could do that, of course, if I ever really wanted. But that was the realm of the “lower room,” her “soul.” And, as I said before, I almost never took her there anymore. 

I had patterned Dee’s room to be just like Brenda’s, but now I understood my monumental error. THERE WAS NO DIFFENCE BETWEEN DEE’S UPPER ROOM AND HER LOWER ONE! Everything, and I mean everything, that I had told Dee while she was under hypnosis had changed her. Changed her for good! Changed her forever! 

What was I going to do?

I racked my brain in an effort to try and remember what I had said to her while I had her under my influence, but in the past month and a half, I had hypnotized her dozens of times. There had been a period, as I mentioned, when I had not put her under for many days. But there had been other days when I had done it two or three times. She loved to tell me, while she was lying on “her bed of truth,” how much she loved me. This made her so happy, so peaceful, so content, that I saw no reason not to agree with and support the pleasant emotions. But now I suddenly realized that I had been IMPLANTING those feelings. Without the hypnosis, she probably never would have loved me at all!

I had quickly grown to love her overt modesty, love her nervous shyness, and I had told her this while she was under my control. But now, I wasn’t entirely sure if she had EVER been shy or modest. I may have just seen what I ASSUMED to be those traits! Now, they were burned into her personality forever! 

The next day, I took Brenda for a long walk and laid the whole problem at her feet. I had never been so serious about anything in my life. She laughed. And when I started to get angry about her reaction, she laughed even harder. Finally, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me while I fumed, and she tried to compose herself to present her argument.

It didn’t matter, she said, WHAT we did with Dee, as long as she was happy with her life. And she WAS, Brenda said firmly. She was completely, totally, enormously happy. Diana Darlingshire was dead. Dead and gone. The girl we now knew as Dee was a pretty, happy, energetic, and thoroughly unique individual, who was content with her place in the world. We had given her the gift of life, and more importantly, we had given her the gift of love. Changing her a little was secondary to all of that. (Or, at least, that was Brenda’s spin on things.)

I was far from comfortable with the idea, but there seemed to be nothing I could do about it. So now, I firmly vowed not to do ANYTHING that would alter Dee further. I vowed that I would never order Dee to do anything even remotely strange or odd that might change her life further.

That promise would last for another four months. Then, Brenda would make the most outrageous proposition imaginable … (No, scratch that. I myself would have NEVER imagined doing something like that) … and it would change all of our lives forever.


