Mind Control -

Mind Control - Part 2

In Part 1, placing my wife in a mild hypnotic trance enabled her to overcome a lifetime of inhibitions. We explored new areas which previously had been taboo, and are preparing to take this further.

I lay back reflecting on how far we had come. Placing my wife, Chrissie, in a mild hypnotic trance had enabled her to overcome a lifetime of repression. She had allowed me to photograph her naked, had let me shave her intimate parts and was even talking about sex with other people. She also seemed to love the taste of my semen and her own juices. The turnaround was incredible, and I could hardly wait for phase 2.

She had ordered a range of sex toys and outfits and was preparing for our first appearance on a public webcam site. She was even open-minded enough to encourage me to use my new-found skill in boudoir photography as a business opportunity, and in three days' time I was expecting my first model - a pretty student who I had got on with during my previous job as a lecturer.

All this came with just two rules - whatever we do, we do it together; and whatever one partner was expected to do, the other should be willing to do too (or the equivalent). There were downsides to the second of these rules - so far, I had licked up my own semen and had a finger wriggling in my back passage - but oddly, I had found nothing disagreeable. In truth, I felt new horizons were opening for me. I had no idea if Chrissie felt the same, but so far, she had entered into every activity with gusto and apparent pleasure.

We awoke on Saturday morning, and I was a little disappointed that Chrissie had decided to forego our morning bout of sex, which had become commonplace. It was perfunctory on weekdays - a quickie before getting up to take the kids to school - but when we did not have to get up early, it was extended and athletic. If I slept, I usually awoke to a warm mouth around my erection, or a hand stroking vigorously - this morning however, I was alone in bed.

I got up and went downstairs to find Chrissie on the sofa, sipping coffee. As I entered, she jumped up and went to the kitchen, returning minutes later and handing me my cup.

"Don't say I never give you anything," she smiled.

My confused look must have registered with her.

"I know," she explained, "no fucking this morning. But we've got a big night tonight. I want you firing on all cylinders - and covering me with cum."

It still seemed odd hearing words like 'fuck' and 'cum' from my wife, who until recently would never have been so graphic - yet I rather liked it. It was becoming a very clear indicator of how her inhibitions were lifting.

I recognised the sense in what she was saying, but was still disappointed. I was very capable of performing twice in a day, or more, and without any major deterioration in quality. I made my point and looked on as her head went down and her shoulders slumped.

"Sorry," she mumbled, "I'm nervous. My first time in public. I really want to, and I know you'll say I don't have to, but the idea really turns me on. It's just in my head - and my stomach - I'm terrified. Would you... I mean..."

"Would I hypnotise you?" I completed her thought.

"Yes. It'd help. Just to relax me. Now, then again just before we start."

I nodded, set some music in place and lit an incense stick. I decided to be quick, in case the kids interrupted us, so gently massaged her temples. I set at a metronome, ticking at her heart rate and located a small, flashing LED where she could focus on it.

The environment being set, I talked slowly and rhythmically, suggesting that she close her eyes on the count of ten, then advising her that she was totally relaxed, her day would pass as usual, and that come the evening she would proceed without nerves or fear and would behave as she wished, without being held back by her social and nurtured-based taboos.

When I finished and brought her out of her fully relaxed state, her eyes were still mildly unfocused, as they tended to be. She had always been my practice subject, and was highly suggestible, so it was no surprise when she smiled and hugged me.

"I feel so much better," she enthused, "thanks. I'm going to get the kids up and make a picnic. They're off to my mum's for the day, cos she's taking them to that craft fair. We'll go to the Nature Reserve for a nice walk."

I nodded. I had forgotten that Chrissie's mum had decided to take the kids. She did that occasionally, because she liked a 'grandma day' to strengthen her bonds with them and give us time to ourselves. What she meant was that she liked to worm her way into the kids' minds and infect them with the same taboos she had implanted in Chrissie - however, like many grandparents, she seemed to forget that we were the primary carers and were far more influential.

Previously, we had spent the day catching up on housework, sitting watching TV in silence and having the odd, stilted conversation. Things had changed now. Our connection was different and our new-found closeness would make this a vastly different day. I actually believed that Chrissie's mother wanted us to realise how stale our marriage had become. Now, however, her plan was back-firing.

I suggested that, as we had a free day, maybe we should set up the webcam and do our thing while we had the house to ourselves. Chrissie was adamant, however. Relax during the day, play tonight. Maybe it was a lingering part of her upbringing - sex was associated with bed and night time, definitely not the daylight hours. Those were reserved for housework and defamatory gossip with the harpies that her mother called 'friends.'

Never mind. I was happy to wait.

It was a lovely day, warm and pleasant. There were quite a few people at the Nature Reserve, but it covered a huge area, and it was not difficult to find quiet places to walk, away from the noise of families and cycle tracks. After an hour's gentle wandering, adding photographs of landscapes and water birds to my photographic portfolio, we stopped for lunch. It was a pleasant location, maybe twenty metres off the path, and fairly secluded.

Chrissie laid out a rug and unpacked our food.

"You should take some pictures," she commented, "for the family album. It doesn't have to be all for your website now you're turning pro."

I snapped a couple of images of her sitting with the picnic, before settling down to eat. It was a pleasant spread - sandwiches, salad, sausage rolls, followed by home-made cake washed down with orange juice and some water.

As we packed away, my wife caught my eye and smiled.

"You should get some more photos of me - for Facebook - might help show how well you capture people."

Her idea made sense. She was wearing a plain white t-shirt with a scoop neck and jogging bottoms. She had slipped her trainers off as we ate.

She posed leaning against a tree, smiling at me in a way which was far too sexy for social media.

"Tone it down a bit," I suggested, "don't stick your boobs out so much and move your hand from between your legs."

She smiled, and picked up a bottle of water. The chatter of other walkers floated on the air from the other side of the small screen of bushes. Spotting Chrissie's head over the top of the row of bushes, one of them bade her "Good morning" as they continued on their way.

She resumed her pose against the rough bark as I shot image after image. As I looked through the viewfinder, she brought the bottle up and tilted it towards her mouth - tilted it until it was almost vertical. The liquid poured out, over her mouth, her shoulders, down onto her t-shirt. The entire bottle.

My fast shutter speed captured the whole scene beautifully, each droplet frozen as it either fell on to her, or bounced off. Each frame caught her t-shirt, darkening, becoming translucent. The shape of her bra was evident. It was lightweight, gauze which allowed her nipples to be clearly seen as dark circles, even through the wet t-shirt. My photographs caught her hardening nipples, first flat, then growing to rigid points against her clothing.

It was incredibly erotic, and I felt a sensation of hardening as I watched, and realised my breath was becoming rapid.

"Oh shit," she cooed, seductively, looking directly into the lens, "my top's wet. I should take it off and let it dry."

My mouth was dry as she grabbed the bottom of the shirt and peeled it over her head, more slowly than would be natural to allow me to capture every revelation.

Now in just her bra, her nipples were very evident - dark, near perfect circles drawn out by the icy water as she continued her posing.

I felt she wanted me to be the professional photographer, rather than the lecherous husband. I also knew that she wanted me to save myself for the evening. I stayed silent, snapping image after image.

"Oh damn!" Chrissie exclaimed. "My bra's soaked too. I need to put it somewhere to dry.

She unclipped the item, and slipped it off her shoulders, allowing her magnificent tits to swing free. Her DD bra was hung on a bush, and she stood before me, confident as a naturist in a nudist camp, smiling as she shared her boobs with me, the open air and anyone who might choose to wander off the footpath.

She cupped her breasts and thumbed her nipples, head back, breathing accelerated.

I was suddenly acutely aware that while no-one could see us directly from the path next to us, they could from a path running parallel to this one - it was substantially further away, and my wife's topless form would have been difficult to make out clearly, but the fact remained, that to any bird-watcher with binoculars or fellow photographer with a decent zoom lens, she could be rendered highly visible.

I suppose this fact should have concerned me. Instead, it excited me. If anything, my erection hardened even more. This hitherto latent streak of exhibitionism was a massive turn on for me - and her, apparently, as she continued to pout, preen and pose for the delight of my camera.

Then she began to slide off the jogging bottoms, and it was only at that point that I realised that this 'show' had not been spontaneous - it had been her intention all along.

Under the trousers, she wore no panties. Instead, she was wearing hold-up stockings. As she removed the jogging bottoms completely, naked apart from the sheer coverings on her legs, I could only stare.

She posed once more, using the tree as a prop, and suddenly realised I was no longer taking photographs.

"Keep snapping," she instructed, "because I'm staying like this till you've got a lovely set of outdoor photos."

I gulped and began shooting once more, as she moved from the tree, framing herself between two saplings, hedgerow and lake in the background.

Suddenly, I heard voices, and froze. A group of people were coming up the footpath. Chrissie's head and shoulders were clearly visible over the hedge, and I was certain that the foliage was not thick enough to totally obscure her body from curious eyes.

I expected her to dip down and hide, but instead, as the group of young people drew level, she smiled and greeted them. I guessed they were probably students - two couples, between eighteen and twenty years old, perhaps, and they returned her greeting cheerfully.

It was obvious that, as they looked in her direction, they became aware that something was odd. For a start, my wife's head and shoulders were plainly visible, and were obviously uncovered. It was possible that she wore a top with no sleeves or straps, but unlikely. Plus, they must have seen glimpses of bare flesh through the fairly sparse leaves. They could not have been certain of her nudity, but must have made a fair guess.

As they strolled past, Chrissie resumed her posing, now sliding to the ground, lying on her side and her back, then sitting up.

What had become evident was the whispering from the group on the path, accompanied by giggling and sounds of encouragement to one or other of the group. As I continued snapping, I noticed Chrissie raise a hand and wiggle her fingers to something behind me. I looked round, and seeing nothing, looked at her quizzically.

"Just those kids," she informed me, "having a look round the hedge."

Again, I was stunned at her casual response. "All of them?" I asked.

"Not at first - just one of the girls - then they all came for a look. They've gone now, but it's given them something to chat about. And now I'm so fucking horny."

The nature of the shoot changed in that moment, from a fun, nude, outdoor shoot to something more sexual. She began fondling her breast with one hand, while the other dropped between her legs. She opened her outer lips for me to get clear photos of the hole within, then began stroking her clitoris. She lay back, breathing deeply, breasts vibrating as her nipples pointed to the heavens. She slipped two fingers inside her as she brought herself closer to orgasm.

Just as I thought she was going to climax, she rolled to her knees, backside in the air, exposing every intimate detail of herself as she fingered and thrust into herself. Soon, she achieved her orgasm, crying out in the open air, body twitching before she finally relaxed, rolling on her back and allowing her legs to fall wide, enjoying the warm, gentle breeze.

I placed my camera aside, after a few final shots of her wet, swollen pussy, and lay beside her, kissing her deeply. Prior to this, I had no idea how I might have felt about others seeing her naked, and my response surprised me. I felt no jealousy, no embarrassment - all I felt was a blend of pride and sexual excitement. I wanted nothing more than to fuck her there and then, but I was certain that I would not be allowed. She had decided I should wait for the evening, and her decision was final.

We lay there for a while. Chrissie was in no rush to dress, and seemed to be relishing the warm sun on parts of her which had probably never been exposed to the open sky before. People passed on the footpath, unaware of us lying there, conversing openly. I wondered how they would react if they had seen the large breasted, naked woman a few feet from them.

As we lay there, we chatted and giggled, trying to predict responses. We decided that if the students from earlier had decided to join us, the lads would probably have encouraged the girls to strip too. We would have loved that. An older couple would have been scandalised and called us perverts, while others might have been interested in a threesome or foursome. We thought they would all be jealous - of our openness, of Chrissie's body and our willingness to be ourselves.

Eventually, she dressed, reluctantly. Her wet clothes were now dry, and while she said she would have loved to walk along the path naked for a bit, she was also a little concerned that the warm sun and breeze might burn the parts unused to the weather.

The sun was quite low when we collected the kids from Chrissie's mother. They seemed bored, and I wondered how much longer they would be willing to go on their days out with Grandma. We stayed for the obligatory cup of coffee, while I accepted the typically barbed comments to which I was accustomed, and left at dusk, in time for the kids to spend an hour relaxing with games consoles and TV.

Eventually, it was time. Once again, I set about inducing the mild hypnotic trance and post-hypnotic suggestion, as my wife had requested.

We set up the laptop and a separate webcam. We had considered sticking with the camera integrated in the computer, but decided it lacked the flexibility we wanted - plus, if we wanted to type, it would be necessary to separate and reach across - or be so close that our bodies wouldn't be visible.

Chrissie dashed to the bedroom to change - presumably into her lingerie and something sexy for our audience. I was unconcerned, happy to remain in jeans and t-shirt. After all, there's really no such thing as lingerie for men.

Fifteen minutes later, she reappeared - hair restyled, make-up applied and wearing a mid-thigh length, figure hugging skirt and white blouse, with just one button too many left undone. She looked like the world's sexiest secretary - my very personal assistant.

We had decided to record, as well as broadcast our performance, and set things up accordingly, a bright spotlight trained on us. We connected to the site and clicked 'broadcast.'

Instantly, an image of ourselves as we were appearing to the world popped up on screen. Of course, no-one was watching. We waited, and gradually, more people appeared - ten, twenty, thirty, fifty, a hundred - and comments began to appear.

'Show tits'

'Fuck her'

'Show pussy'

'Fake - it's a vid'

'Wave if real'

We waved and smiled as comments poured in.

I leaned forward and typed.

'Hi all. We gonna go all the way, but only if you're polite and patient. No directing, no trolling, no insults or you're booted.'

There was an instant response.

'Time wasters. They not gonna show.'

I blocked the individual immediately, along with a couple of others who seemed to think they had the right to tell us what to do. Then I gave our terms.

'125 - blouse off. 150 - skirt off. Something off every 25 - at 250 we start fucking.'

It was an effective way to get numbers up, and there was an instant jump in numbers. I began to undo the buttons on Chrissie's blouse, peeling it off to reveal a beautiful black and red silk bra, trimmed with lace.

'Amazing tits... gorgeous... love to suck...'

The comments flooded in - no surprise that her breasts were so popular. They were truly outstanding.

By now though, it was time to strip off her skirt and show panties which matched her bra, along with the almost obligatory stockings and suspenders. Chrissie rotated, showing her pert bum - again greatly admired - as the numbers continued to mount.

Next was my shirt, followed by trousers. There were a fair number of women watching, and quite a few couples. They were less effusive in their comments, and certainly less raucous, but they were certainly there, which pleased me. I liked the idea that my body was being enjoyed by people other than bisexual or gay men - not that I minded their appreciation, but I was not really that way inclined.

The numbers continued to rise, more slowly now, which meant we could take our time and allow people to enjoy our underwear before seeing us naked - however, the point had been reached where we had promised that Chrissie would lose her bra.

I reached behind and unclipped her, moving my hands to cover her nipples as she shrugged the penultimate item off.

My carefully placed hands caused outrage, so after a brief pause, I staged the big reveal - two hundred and fifty viewers enjoying my wife's impressive tits. Her nipples were solid and erect - evidence that she was loving exposing herself - as the next target was reached.

I had been prepared to take off her panties, but instead, she grabbed the waistband of my boxer shorts. Easing the elastic over my erect, eight-inch cock, she eased them off. I was gratified by the appreciation my manhood received from the audience, and it was then that a message caught Chrissie's eye.

'Couple, m30 f28 W Mids - pm?'

She looked to me before opening the private message box (we had blocked these messages, as we had no desire to converse with individuals who felt deserving of special attention), and began to type.

'Hi - we're Mark and Chrissie - E. Mids. Nice to meet you'

Their reply was instant.

'Fancy c2c? Don't cam in public cos of trolls - Kelly and Sean'

'OK. Where?'

I looked at Chrissie in surprise. This had never been part of the plan, but I was happy to go ahead. Kelly might be incredibly attractive, and if they were fun, we could cam with them regularly.

They suggested a well known video calling app which we already had installed, and sent their user name. Quickly, Kelly opened a new tab and started the video call.