Even Numbers

Rosita was going to be naked soon.

Her slinky burgundy dress already felt too tight and constricting on her curvy body, clinging to her feverishly warm brown skin and distracting her with the way it rubbed against her sensitive flesh with every little motion. Rosita ached with the desire to pull it off, to show Mateo the breasts she'd been teasing him with in pictures over the last few frustrating months and watch the bulge in his trousers twitch with desire in response. She wanted to be nude so badly that she could picture every last second of her disrobing like a pornographic movie unspooling in the theater of her mind. They were finally alone now, finally alone together after months of delays from the insignificant to the pandemic-sized, and only one thing kept her from getting naked right now.

She knew that if she waited just a little bit longer, Mateo would command her to strip for him. And her helpless, hypnotized fingers would drift into sleepy obedience at last. "Are you ready?" Mateo asked, and Rosita shivered with arousal at everything those three simple words implied. She nodded, her throat closing up with arousal too tightly to allow speech to escape. They'd negotiated all the boundaries, all the wish lists, everything she wanted and needed and simply couldn't imagine herself doing, and now it was finally time to be hypnotized. To be controlled. To be an obedient slut for the Master she could admit, at last, that she really wanted.

Mateo smiled, his chubby russet cheeks dimpling adorably. "Then let's begin," he said, sitting cross-legged on the couch across from her and taking her hands in his own. "We're going to start with something very simple, Rosita. Just a little counting game, that's all. You're going to start at one hundred, and when you feel me squeeze your hands, you're just going to count one number down. And on every even number, you're going to close your eyes, and on every odd number, you're going to open your eyes. Do you understand?"

Rosita swallowed heavily, trying to force her words through the thick lump of anticipation in her throat. "Count down whenever you squeeze my hands. Close my eyes on the even numbers. Open them on the odd numbers." She nodded. "Okay." She waited for a long moment, her clit pulsing like a second heartbeat between her legs. She couldn't stop imagining how good it would feel to take her clothes off, her fingers moving languorously at Mateo's instruction to expose her tawny brown skin to his hungry gaze. How hot it would be to enjoy the delicious sensation of his hands brushing her lush, heavy tits and thick nipples. How badly she'd wanted this for months now.

Then his hands squeezed hers, and Rosita closed her eyes and murmured, "One hundred." Her breath escaped in a whoosh of excitement, and she inhaled unsteadily to replace it.

"That's it," Mateo said, his voice smooth and soft in the darkness of her mind. "It's very easy to close those heavy eyes and relax, just let them shut while you focus on the numbers descending down for me. You're already familiar with hypnosis, you're already comfortable with trance, and you already know what happens when you close your eyes and listen to my words." He squeezed again, and Rosita felt a momentary twinge of defiance welling up inside her. She didn't want to open her eyes. She wanted to sink deeper.

But she also wanted to follow along with his instructions. So she opened her eyes and said, "Ninety-nine." She couldn't help but notice that her gaze almost instantly focused on the deep brown of Mateo's irises, so rich and dark that she almost couldn't tell where his pupils began. It was so easy to lock on that comforting stare, to just look back at him and stay centered on the sound of his voice and the warmth of his hands holding hers. Rosita's breathing slowed, her arousal not diminishing but somehow becoming leashed to the relaxation spreading through her body.

"And those eyelids are already feeling much heavier, much more difficult to open," Mateo said, his thumbs very lightly caressing the skin on the backs of Rosita's hands. "You're already anticipating the next number, already looking forward to the chance to close those heavy eyes again and sink deeper into the warm darkness inside your head. It's so nice to think about how much better you're going to feel each and every time those drowsy eyes open, each time you count for me...." He squeezed Rosita's palms. A wave of relaxation washed over her.

And with the relaxation came another number. "Ninety-eight," Rosita muttered, noticing the droning quality in her voice almost before she realized that her eyelids were slipping shut again. It felt so much better the second time around, like she'd had to get out of a warm bath to grab something from the bathroom counter and recognized the pleasant sensation of the hot water against her skin even more strongly by contrast with the cool air. Her head bobbed forward ever so slightly, not drooping or slumping but simply dipping that first tiny bit into peaceful trance. Rosita could still think. She just didn't want to.

"That's it," Mateo purred, his voice silky with encouragement. "It feels so nice to be allowed to close those sleepy eyes again, so nice to just let go of everything and relax deeper for me. You're resting deeper in my voice, your muscles relaxing and letting go of the tension, and it's so comforting that all you want to do is float in peace and pleasure for me. It gets harder and harder to open those heavy eyes each time, harder and harder on...." He squeezed. It took Rosita a surprisingly long time to remember what number to respond with.

But she managed. "Ninety-seven," she mumbled, her eyelids unsticking from one another with a Monday-morning-lecture reluctance. Her head felt surprisingly empty of thought--even the idea of ideas seemed vague and distant, as if her brain had been lightly anesthetized and the drugs hadn't quite worn off yet. At a loss for anything further to do, she found herself staring vacantly into Mateo's deep brown eyes again. They were something to focus her gaze on, and Rosita didn't really have anywhere else she wanted to look right now. She couldn't wait to hear the next number and drop.

"There we go," Mateo cooed encouragingly, smiling gently at Rosita while his thumbs continued to trace slow, sleepy circles on the backs of her hands. "Every time those heavy eyelids open, you can feel that drowsy, exhausted state getting stronger and stronger. Every time they close again, you can feel yourself dropping deeper and relaxing more. Ten times deeper when your eyelids close, twenty times sleepier when they open, enjoying that sensation each and every time you count for me, pretty girl." He squeezed her palms again, and Rosita's head sank forward in a definite droop this time.

Her brain got momentarily stuck trying to remember the next number. Mateo's 'ten' and 'twenty' kept lodging themselves in her head, the warm coaxing sound of his voice so all-encompassing in her mind that she was unable to think of anything else for a moment. But finally she heard herself say hesitantly, "Ninety-eight?" and she was able to relax and concentrate on the soft, drifting bliss that swallowed up her thoughts and left her floating in peace and pleasure. This trance was far stronger than the first one she'd enjoyed with him, and much more intense than the little text sessions and phone calls that had tided them over during quarantine. She was really losing track of herself now.

And Mateo knew just how to lull her even deeper. "That's my good girl," he purred, pulling her arms gently forward before pushing them back to set her body lightly swaying in place. "Sinking ten times deeper now, looking up inside your mind and finding that it's so hard to imagine surfacing from the warm and drowsy depths of trance. Knowing that you're going to feel twenty times sleepier when you open your eyelids again, knowing that it's going to be so much harder to open those heavy, heavy eyelids when you say...."

"N-ninety-five?" Rosita was a little astonished at how uncertain she already was. She was a physics major with a math minor, calculus and trigonometry were child's play for her, but here she was having trouble counting down from one hundred already. Her gaze locked onto Mateo's eyes automatically now, everything else fuzzy and out of focus by comparison, and her eyelids drooped with the desire to let them slip shut again. The swaying, rocking motion of her body lulled her deeper into relaxation with every passing moment, and she had no idea how much longer she could even keep this up. The thought of reaching zero seemed ludicrous, absurd. Rosita's brain was simply melting away too fast to make it.

But Mateo seemed very pleased with her. "There we go," he said, nodding encouragingly. "And those sleepy eyes just focus easily and effortlessly onto my gaze now, instantly centered on my hypnotic stare every time those heavy eyelids manage to open. So drowsy now, so relaxed and heavy, twenty times or a hundred times or a thousand times harder to stay awake for me. Up and down, back and forth, open and shut, counting yourself down into the deepest trance you can possibly imagine with...." He squeezed her palms again. Rosita sighed as another wave of delicious exhaustion washed over her.

Rosita's eyes slipped shut, and the number... the number just wasn't there. Her head felt too empty, the work of remembering what she'd said just moments ago simply too much effort for her drowsy brain. Time seemed to stretch and distend in the void inside her mind, the silence weighing down on her like a heavy blanket until she finally made her best guess out of sheer desperation to fill it. "Ninety-two?" she mumbled, deducing that it had to be even because she knew that her eyelids had slammed down in utter, blissful relaxation. The arousal, never truly gone, throbbed louder than ever now. She was really going under. She was really sinking into trance. She was going to be Mateo's soon.

And he knew it. "Good girl!" he cooed, tugging one arm forward and pushing the other back to add a dizzying syncopation to her sway. "All those silly thoughts falling away now, dropping thirty times deeper every time those heavy eyelids close and feeling fifty times more exhausted every time they open and sinking seventy-seven times deeper every time you stare into my gaze and try to remember the next number for me. Isn't that right, pretty girl?" Mateo rattled off the words at a machine-gun pace, then squeezed her palms again almost before he finished speaking. It felt absolutely overwhelming, and for a long moment, Rosita couldn't make herself open her eyes again.

When she finally did, it was with a bleary, heavy-lidded stare that made her look like she'd just pulled an all-nighter for a test. "Ssseventy-sev'n?" she slurred out, her slack jaw unable to properly articulate the words anymore. Rosita wasn't sure at all if that was the right number, she'd lost track in the rapid-fire description of all those digits, but her head simply felt too empty to come up with anything of her own anymore. All she wanted to do was repeat what she was told. Her pussy literally clenched with arousal at that slow, sleepy realization. If Mateo hadn't been holding her hands, she probably would have started rubbing herself right then and there.

But he kept rocking her instead, adding a little more kinetic energy with each push and pull until Rosita's body was swaying in dizzy circles and her head lolled from side to side on her shoulders. "That's my sleepy girl," he purred, "that's my empty girl. Fifty times deeper and sixty times heavier and locked on my stare and the pleasure jumps by tens and twenties, the arousal sinks eighty times ninety times forty times deeper and deeper into that warm, sexy body and all you want to do is close those drowsy eyes and sleep, sleep, sleep." He squeezed her palms three times rapidly in succession. Rosita's eyelids fluttered as her weary brain tried to process the sensory overload, the multiplicity of instructions, and all those numbers coming at her in rapid succession. With a sigh of pure, unutterable bliss, she failed completely and her whole body went limp.

The moment it did, Mateo stopped rocking her arms and gathered her body gently into his. "That's it, pretty girl," he murmured softly in her ears, lying back and helping her into a more comfortable position on top of him. "That's my beautiful, empty pet. All those thoughts melting away, relaxing deeper and deeper for me now, going down and down and down into a blank, obedient trance for me now. Good girl." Rosita could feel him stroking her hair, caressing her back through her dress with his warm fingers, melting her into a profound and beautiful state of complete relaxation. Her cunt tingled with arousal, but she couldn't imagine moving of her own volition right now. She felt blissfully passive, totally open to suggestions, exactly like she'd asked to be when they first negotiated this scene. It was... god, it was wonderful.

Mateo's hands roamed further down her back, brushing against the curves of her rounded ass, and he whispered to her, "Let's go ahead and take those clothes off, pretty girl." She sat up without opening her eyes, her fingers drifting lazily up to the collar of her strapless dress and pulling it down to reveal her braless tits, and it was everything she'd been fantasizing about all night. Mateo played with her nipples while she wriggled the rest of the way out of her outfit, and Rosita reveled in the tiny intake of breath she elicited from Mateo when he saw that she wasn't wearing any panties under the outfit, either. Even through the depths of trance, she was gratified to know that she still had a few pleasant surprises left for her new lover.

And then she was kneeling on top of him, waiting with infinite patience and an even higher aleph of arousal while he shucked off his pants and unrolled a condom onto his penis. Rosita's pussy felt like a liquid mess of heat between her thighs, like she was dripping her musk onto his crotch second by second while she trembled with anticipation for the moment when he would finally take her body the way he'd already taken her mind. She was panting, mewling with desire, but at long last he guided her down onto his cock and murmured, "Good girl." And Rosita's head lolled backward in utter bliss.

She didn't know how long they fucked. Time didn't mean anything in the profound depths of trance that Rosita had achieved; minutes felt like hours, hours felt like seconds. She knew she came at least twice--she remembered a first distinct orgasm exploding in her brain like a depth charge, and then another after that, but her ability to count had melted away along with every other thought in her head. Sometimes it felt like the climaxes never truly stopped. She skipped along the peaks of pleasure like a stone hurled across the surface of a pond, moving from one throbbing pulse of ecstasy to another without ever coming down. She knew Mateo was talking to her while they fucked. Nothing felt better than forgetting what he said as he said it.

But finally, she must have overtaxed Mateo's self-control, because she felt him beginning to soften and he guided her back off of him to rest on his supine form. They cuddled, then, a long lazy embrace punctuated by more of Mateo's soft voice and Rosita's drowsy, compliant murmurs, but it was still much longer before he woke her up. "Did you enjoy that?" he asked, the question making him suddenly, adorably shy all over again. Rosita felt a fierce, powerful surge of affection for him in that moment. It was so strong that she almost didn't know what to do with it.

So she kissed him. "More than I can say," she whispered back, feeling more than a little shy herself. She wasn't expecting feelings this intense this fast, even though she knew intellectually that they'd been working up to this for months. It was... it was fucking life-changing, Rosita admitted to herself. Absolutely life-changing. She could see a future with Mateo stretching out forever, deepening her submission and his control in so many wonderful ways, and it was so good it was almost scary. She buried her head in his chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Mateo replied, resting his hand on the back of her head. "I hope you'll let me do it again soon." There was so much sweetness in his voice, so much tender affection and gentle respect that Rosita felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes. She didn't want him to confuse her tears for sorrow, though, so she stayed where she was until they fell asleep like that, drowsy and naked and tangled in each other's arms. And when they woke up, all they both wanted was to do it all over again.

THE END