Witch's Mercy

Sabrina sat at her desk, sitting idly, more fascinated with the miniature grandfather clock on it than the paperwork in-front of her. She wasn't sure if she could get any work done, knowing he was so close by. Deadlines were coming up and she knew she had to get something done, or at least keep up the appearance that she was getting something done. Though Sabrina had her own office, she hated to give someone the wrong impression as the entered and found her doing anything but work. But her thoughts were stuck on the events of the night before and the morning that followed.

Smiling brightly, she rubbed her legs together under the desk, deep in the memory of her enthralled pet. She'd taken him through her most elaborate mind game ever, structured and performed like some of her favorite comics; the strong, head-fast hero encountering an unexpected force, a hypnotic witch, and took his will in the most delicious of ways, and continued playing with him well after. The smile of immense satisfaction went totally unnoticed to the rest of the office since her blinds were closed. If it weren't for the tedious scheduling of this week, she would've taken the day off, and made Jon take it off over any objections, celebrating the successful role-play with some nice vanilla, mutually-conscious sex. But Jon got lucky as he was never one to miss work, and they were both stacked. She could've have easily stayed home and rescheduled her meetings, but it was nice enough to just be close to the professional, serious-minded man whom knew his place under her.

The sound of her desk phone ringing shook her out of daydreaming, silently cursing at the phone as she reached for it.

"Hello?"

"Sabrina, it's Peter."

"Peter? Williams or Bevy?"

"Bevy, the boss."

She sighed tiredly away from the speaking end of the phone. She really didn't feel like hearing anything work-related now, especially not from a "superior," but she remained cordial.

"Oh, yes Peter. I'm sorry. How are you today?"

"I'm good. Look, that report we discussed, I'll need it by Thursday."

"I thought we discussed that Friday would be the best time, and you saying that there'd be no immediate rush on this."

"Sorry to say a rush did come up. It's not that I want to rush you; I should be asking for this for Wednesday, but Thursday is the best I can manage."

"I'm not sure I can make that time-frame Peter. I still need to confer with some people on this, which I don't expect to be any sooner than Friday."

"Hmmm. You sure you can't persuade someone to work a little faster?"

That question from Peter sounded strange to Sabrina; it could've mean something totally innocent and jesting, or something more inappropriately suggestive. Either way, she was through playing supplicant.

"Now, now Petey. You of anyone should know how easily I can persuade someone. But it's my choice who I persuade; not yours."

"Excuse me?"

"Come now, remember why you hired me? It wasn't because I get work done and boost morale and productivity as quickly as possible. It was because of how well I work, and how thoroughly I influence people. I use that same motivation for everything, even for you. You remember those relaxation techniques I taught you, the ones that inspired you to hire me in the first place. They weren't hurried or fast-tracked at all. You wouldn't have enjoyed them nearly as much that way. I took my time with you, molding your mind into something better. You are proof-positive of using enough time to produce wonderful results. I mean, I could say the right words and make you mine, but after hearing it so many times, "Sleep for me," just takes you right back into that programming where you are mine, and where time is what I say it is. No more troubles or cares, just listen and I will make everything better. Is that right Petey?"

No immediate response from Peter's end reminded him it'd been a while since she triggered him.

"Please answer me Petey. Am I right?"

"Yes Ms. Marks. You're absolutely right," her boss whispered.

"Are you absolutely sure you need this report by Thursday?"

"No," he answered honesty, automatically.

"And why is that Petey?"

"I made a mistake, and wanted to cover my error with a report submitted earlier," he revealed.

"I see," she said more to herself. Obviously her work with Peter wasn't as extensive as she thought it should be. Though her time was better spent with more pleasing subjects, he clearly needed to be made to not take advantage of his true boss.

"You will not need that report till Friday Peter, and since it is your error, you shall accept your error and whatever the consequences may be, and not feel the need to bother me or anyone else with your issues. Understand Petey?"

"Yes Ms. Marks."

"Good, now relax yourself for 10 minutes. Let those ten minutes be filled with eager images and thoughts of being conditioned by me, so eager to be programmed even more to my liking, and easily forgetting such dreams as you wake up refreshed and ready to work hard, like a good boss should. Is that understood Petey?"

"Yes Ms. Marks."

"Tell me what you will do."

"I will listen, I will obey, I will dream, I will forget."

"Good. Now, hang up the phone, close your eyes, and rest for me."

The thrill of taking some under, especially in a place like this, was still a huge thrill, no matter how many time she did it. It was her principle duty as an on-call hypnotherapist for a tech company, but she always put a spin on her work to make it fun for her. Peter Bevy thought he was truly the boss, but his subconscious knew better. And though Jon hadn't changed much in how his co-workers saw him, his private life was a world of difference. Girlfriends often made that kind of difference in men; hypnotic girlfriends made new men though.

Sabrina's peripheral vision caught sight of someone's physique in her window, like someone stood there, debating on whether to knock on her door. She could tell it was Jon, and wondered how busy he really was today, and how strong the temptation was to set it all aside to spend a few more joyous moments with his mistress. Others passed by as he pretended to stop and look at whatever reports were in his hand. He stood there for so long; she noticed the physique's breathing had slowed, but was deepening. She saw what he might look like in her mind's eye - eyes closed, lost in a light fog of hazy memories, inspired to be near Sabrina for reasons he couldn't quite comprehend. Well, new reasons; he always had at least one to see her. But now he was in a similar predicament, side-tracked by sublime feelings that he wanted, needed more of. It was probably inexplicable since the only clear memories he had were more in his muscles than his mind, lingering sensations and exertions. He was so close to reaching for the door, till someone else off in the distance called his name, summoning him elsewhere to her displeasure.

She cursed silently again, even stronger wording as her fantasies almost became reality in the office again. If he stood there long enough, she would've opened the door and invited him in (pulled him in if no one was looking) for a mind-melting quickie.

"Well, maybe I can have him for lunch," she thought as she looked at the work on her desk. Instead of work, her mind resigned to thinking about the night before in detail to pass the time before lunch.

* * *

".....enchantment has only begun."

Thick clouds of drowsiness flooded his head, keeping him passive, docile and dreaming of sublime things, temptations he gave into as they urged him so convincingly; as she urged convincingly. It was like re-living his first time with a woman, the nervousness and head-over-heels feelings within him. But she understood him, led him so perfectly into is own heights of ecstasy, and showed how much he loved adoring the female form. There was massaging, whispering, kissing from her forehead to her pretty toes, where she especially praised and enjoyed his doting. The dream of her, whoever she was, kept him attached to sleep for as long as he could bear. But then, something caused the clouds to dissipate, evaporating from his mind and leaving him in the state between sleep and wakefulness. In this state, he began remembering things.

The first thing that came to mind was something he trained himself to do in preparation for crime-fighting - faking unconsciousness. He felt all his senses and memories coming back to him, but he kept his body in-check, reminding himself that all his faculties were available, and that there was no need to reveal to the world he was awake yet.

Thoughts still in-motion, he tried recalling the last known memory of full consciousness. The rooftop, patrolling there, the interruption in the form of a woman. A witch. An assertive, insistent, compelling one at that. Named Scryer. She introduced herself somewhat, showed off a few tricks, and challenged his mind, which she thought was so valuable. The end-result was hazy enough for him to deduct that if there was a victor in the challenge, it wasn't him.

The more his senses sharpened, the more questions were answered, and yet more questions arose. He was in-doors, maybe his apartment. His head was propped up on something that wasn't a pillow, but felt soft. Someone was breathing along with him, close to him. His skin was exposed, and his body felt and smelled exertions of love-making and musk in the air. The realization of what he'd been doing and the sound of feminine humming in the air betrayed his feign sleep as Striker's member responded by extension.

"Striker? Striiiiker?" a tantalizing whisper filled the air.

"Or maybe you prefer.....Jooonnnatthaaaaannnn." He didn't dare move as he tried to consider is options again, and not be affected by the way she turned both his names into something sultry. The playful witch might've known he was awake for sure, but pretending not to be was his best option, or at least his best option to keep the element of surprise on his side.

"I know you're awake; you don't have to hide it from me."

He gave her no indication of waking, just resting naked, accessible, silently in her lap, so close to the feet the submissive part of him had nearly developed a fetish for. She enjoyed this form of resistance immensely.

"Okay my hero, let us pretend that you are still sleep now. Let's see how we can coax you out of it."

The sound of her head turning made him chance opening his eyes by slits, observing as much as possible. He noticed it wasn't his bedroom; likely hers. But along with her dressing, he would've expected some kind of stereotypical sorceress' lair. A throne, some astrological design on the ceiling maybe, a round table with a crystal ball on top somewhere. Or for something normal, maybe a hotel room. This apartment looked lived in, and much more normal than expected of her. Her beauty exceeded normal though, he though. Maybe this was the apartment of someone else, another citizen charmed into having a houseguest. He saw her set her witch's hat aside near them, her red tresses swaying, the swell of her breasts and her perked nipples. It crossed his mind how they might've tasted, and wondered if he already had at some point. He made sure the slits closed before she looked back down at him.

"Since you are asleep, your subconscious mind is open for programming, and it's time for the new owner to set her preferences. But just in case, listen to my voice Jonathan. It's the same as it was before; soft, sensual, irresistible. You can't help but listen, no choice but to. You don't even wish for a choice because you're receiving what you truly want now. To be at my mercy, and happy to remain as such."

The sound of her voice and her verbal spell composed of truths tickled his ear-drums. He hated admitting how he liked what he was hearing. Her accent, how she spoke, and what she said she wanted of him which seemed genuine. As she described it, he could feel the "programming," the directives moving to work against his defenses. He was mentally divided between putting up a strong-enough resistance and willing himself to stay at rest. A war on two fronts that would be a war of attrition, losing on both ends. He couldn't even guess which side of him would crack first. He considered letting his faux sleep lapse and physically taking charge of the situation. Holding her down, binding her, escaping to home or a safe distance. She probably and powers or spells already in place for any of those events. He also didn't know what she could do with her powers if angered, but he kept that option as a last-ditch effort.

Retrospectively, his training seemed woefully inadequate. Yes, he prepared himself to face villains of all kinds, and avoid the media at nearly any cost. Fans and admirers though, he never even considered. He never expected to have any. Maybe a kid who'd see him in action and want to take up martial arts or to play "superhero" with friends. What official super/hero guide would ever account for fans who are considerably more powerful than said hero?

"I honestly love the concept of programming. It's a little beyond the use of many witches I've met. Some of the modern ones like me have adapted well enough, others seem to take to having those with the skills serve them. It might be yet another point of interest I have in Jonathan, programming being your day job. I love the concept of planning and setting commands in a useful being. It's nice to know that I'm working with a mind that can certainly comprehend what is happening to him on some level."

The witch's hand grazed over his body with one hand, from his collarbone to his abdomen. She noticed a slight change in his breathing, something he almost successfully hid, but she caught. Part of his "dreaming" mind expected the hand to go even further south than it did. Her fingers could've reached more, but she merely tested his reaction.

"I'm not sure if keyboard or console is an apt word for how I will set my preferences. Whatever would be the right word, it's a lovely device anyway. More organic, and several interesting buttons to press."

Striker's control of his breathing became even more tested as Scryer took to toying with his nipples, grazing one with her finger, pinching the other between two manicured nails. She probed and prodded them, trying to see if what she was doing would produce any result. Unfortunately for him, his self-training for capture and feigning sleep never got to a point of keeping his nipples from hardening. He hoped that could be passed off as merely responding to a pleasing touch, but he knew there was more to come. He wished beyond anything this was a playful girlfriend teasing him in various ways, so he could not hide anything and react to her freely to show her what got him especially riled up; the suspiciously villainess-like sorceress was slowly getting the same results from him though. He felt her grasp his sides while her thumbs rolled over his nipples, moving them like his torso had become some kind of makeshift game controller.

"Hmmm, the system seems to be on standby still, but some functions are waking up."

"What the hell kind of game are you playing?" he asked her, or wanted to. His occasional hobby was video games, and the directions his nipples were being rolled around felt like someone trying to play a game. An image of a claw vending machine game at carnivals seemed an even better concept; Striker swore he could feel the blood rushing from his head, past where her hands played, as if her claw was going to pull his erection out of the pile. He dared not think further about it, afraid of imagining his erection betraying him and stand tall, eager to be snatched up.

"I wonder if this model responds to voice commands - wake up." *Snap*

She snapped her fingers along with that command, sound like a mouse click.

"Nothing yet. Eyes open." *Snap*

"Breathe deep." *Snap*

He wondered if that was to test to see if she could change his breathing; he also wondered if it actually had changed."

"Get hard." *Snap*

The blood started to inflate him, but just a minimal amount.

"Maybe it's how I say it," she mused as he felt her body shift a bit.

"Get hard now," she suggested directly into his ear like a hot flame made of silk. His nipples were pinched roughly for added effect, and she nearly squealed in delight seeing his cock jump from flaccid to growing.

"We're definitely making progress now," she said, patting him on his muscular chest.

"And silly me; I forgot that this model came with pre-installed commands - journey of azure."

His unprepared brown eyes opened wide in hypnotized impulse and shock, and hers were already ready to greet his. Her trigger was installed hours ago and maybe was the hardest spell of hers to fight. They were and endless journey that he could've longed to take without any prompting from her. He would've searched all over that apartment to stare into those eyes after she commanded it, uselessly fighting it all the way. It didn't hurt how she made sure her eyes were never that far away for staring into, but she did plan to see him go the distance for her some time.

The bridge of her nose rested on his forehead as she stared guilelessly into him. Though her sight was filled with watching how vacant his eyes were getting, she could feel the rest of his mental efforts dwindling away. His mouth gaping open, his breathing almost labored after holding back for so long, the heat from his genitals quite satisfying. His eyes were denied hers temporarily as she applied another spell - a deep kiss. She remembered how popular that upside-down comic book movie kiss was, and the way it felt awkward at the beginning, yet hotter as it went on, she wished she could've tried it much earlier. She pulled away from the kiss, and re-applied her patented azure stare to see him drift toward completely mindless.

Before he could reach the point she wanted him in, a flicker of life in his eyes surprised both of them. She pulled back a bit to see that flicker register not only in his eyes but his body, arms slightly twitching. How he was capable of this after multiple spells, she didn't know, but all she could feel was exhilaration in the hunt not being quite over yet.

Striker, for his part, felt her power coming over him like waves of a tsunami, but having his eyes opened by her trigger kept a burning thought alive in his mind, that he was awake, and supposed to be doing something. Against her waves, he fought like hell to swim back up from drowning. The mental gave way to the physical as he felt control back in his arms. They rose from his sides as quickly as he could manage, not with any specific plan of attack, but to escape being idle, which might be what he feigned for too long.

His arms didn't get far as two hands moved quickly to grasp his wrists. The pressure of her hold gave him more awareness, making him blink, take in breath sharply, and free his hands. His torso and hips shifted to move off the bed, trying to move quickly as he felt her moving as well. Quick hands gripped his again at the wrists, bringing them back face-to-face. This time they were kneeling on top of the bed though, and Striker couldn't hide his blush as he realized how naked she was, and how naked he felt. For everything he managed and may have surprised her with, her happy expression nor the confidence she radiated was reduced.

"Welcome back sleepyhead," was spoken in the most amused tone he'd ever heard in his life.

"I'll be leaving now," is what Striker tried to say, but it became a mumbled mess while he tried to break her hold and move his numb, tired legs.

"You truly have no idea the kind of power you possess. I see now even I was being modest with noting your mental fortitude. It IS a super-power at this point. Do you know why?"