The darkness of subconsciousness was peaceful and quiet, ignorant of everything until a rude, consistent sound entered her eardrums. She hated waking up to the sound of alarm clocks, and violently reached around to silence it. Opening her eyes, rays of dawn shone on a contorted face, bringing light and pain to the awakened state. Frustrated groans came before and after the first yawn, grasping the bridge of a nose as signs of a headache shot from the bridge to deep in the brain.
"Fuck," was the first word to leave Tovah's lips, still trying reach for the alarm, then pulling covers over her head to shield herself from an unsatisfying wave of light and sounds, including birds chirping outside. Somehow, her slowly-processing brain picked up something beyond everything she tried shutting herself off from - "-ur fuck toy." Not an uncommon thing for her to hear as a stage hypnotist with skills as impressive as her ethics could be questionable, except she could usually remember how she got a fuck-toy the previous night. Instead of smiling and drifting off back to sleep despite the alarm, she bravely opened her eyes to take in more pain. Blurry without contacts, she found her glasses and viewed an unfamiliar alarm clock reading 7:44. With cathartic fanfare, she smacked the snooze button hard, hoping she managed to somehow brake it. But alongside it was a sight that shocked her to panicked consciousness - an empty vodka bottle standing tall on the nightstand next to the bed.
"Oh, fuck."
Tovah had a strange relationship with some brain-altering substances over the years that made her stick to moderate intakes of mild drinks like wine and champagne. None seemed to alter more than vodka, as evident from some wild nights spread across decades, a few of them deep into becoming the accomplished and highly-reputable Miss Mentalist. Something about that drink plus the hypnotist's interesting biological make-up equaled a unique loss of inhibitions without taking away any of her powerfully-suggestive prowess. According to the accounts of others, she was a more aggressive, more insistent version of herself after a generous intake of vodka, and such accounts were open to interpretation, depending on the source and what a drunken Tovah convinced them of. Some of those times were most certainly due to people trying to convince her that alcohol inhibited the average hypnotist's abilities; being more than above the average hypnotist, and thriving off of challenges, she proved detractors very wrong.
Unlike previous times though, she could barely remember anything about the night prior, no matter how much she tried. Her last clear memory was of doing a show at a fraternity, going through the PG-rated motions successfully, and receiving great applause for it. Where she'd done a show explained the surroundings at least, waking up what looked like an over-sized, over-decorated dorm of a horny young adult.
"Mmmm, your fucktoy."
She heard a whisper from somewhere, followed by a tongue making heated contact between her legs beneath the covers. Tovah would've screamed and leapt out of the strange bed were it not for hands holding her firm, and the tongue suspiciously-knowing how she liked to be licked out. Under enthusiastic worship, the middle-aged hypnotist was less-inclined to stop the coming orgasm that brought some pain but even more pleasure. Grabbing fistfuls of long hair and letting forgotten directions happen, it wasn't long before she was worked to a strong orgasm, and the tongue lapsed as its owner came as well, before greedily licking to get every last drop of fluid it produced.
Sharp pleasure cut through most of the distress joyously, until the fucktoy needed deep breaths to recover, and the hangover gradually filled the void of awareness. Throwing the covers off the bed revealed the naked pairing, and how vacant the younger woman looked in early daylight. Having relaxed muscles and focused intensely on deep breaths close to her crotch, Tovah reasoned she was programmed to love her private fragrance, waiting, hoping for an excuse to have more of her addictive fluids.
"Who are you?"
"I am Eta-Upsilon-Rho-Nu-Theta pledge number 5, Provost. I live to serve the tenets of ΗΥPΝΘ."
"Umm....okay? That's a-mmmm, ow...." fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, reactively trying to counteract the pain radiating under the skin. "That's a freakishly-long sorority name. Who, or what is provost?"
"You are my provost; I live to serve you," the supposed servant uttered between breaths, sounding desperate to prove her devotion.
Tovah slowly moved herself off the bed, still letting her eyes adjust to sunlight as she searched for her clothes. Pulling the covers off of them, eyes widened to see words written in black marker over the other woman's body. Atop her forehead was "fucktoy," and across his body was Greek letters, with "pledge 5" written underneath them. She ashamedly realized the lettering looked like "HYPNO," but lots of gigs spent on college campuses got her to be more aware of the Greek alphabet, and had a mild laugh over Eta-Upsilon-Rho-Nu-Theta, literally spelling "Η-Υ-P-Ν-Θ."
She was hoping to amuse herself by looking up the specific meaning of provost before dealing with whatever issues a reckless Miss Mentalist caused, not finding her phone or her purse yet.
"Slave-I mean, pledge, where is my phone?" Tovah asked, finding her suited stage outfit strewn about with jeans.
"I don't know, Provost. May I find it for you?"
"Of course, sl-pledge 5, heh. Gonna need to adj-" Tovah stopped herself as a thought just occurred to her.
"You said you are pledge 5?"
"Yes, Provost."
"H-how many pledges did I make last night?"
"I don't know, Provost. May I serve and find out for you?"
Putting on her suit pants and buttoning up her white blouse, she nervously crept to the door and looked out of the room she woke up in, hoping against hope that her activities stayed in that room. Opening the door to see writing scrolled along the wall displaying "ΗΥPΝΘ FOREVER," and another college student, a fairly handsome young man sleeping right outside her door, rising concerns flooded through her brain, hurting it more than it already was.
His shirt looked ripped apart, exposing a hard-bodied chest with writing similar to pledge 5, but specifying "slave 4" over his pecs, and "chas" on his forehead. The zipper on his jeans were open, exposing his cock to the world. There was a look of slight distress on his sleeping face.
"Ummm, Chas? Please wake up for me..." She ushered the man on the ground with calming words and shaking his head gently. He opened glassy eyes and gazed over the woman crouched over him. Sucking in a deep breath, her appearance was enough to trigger him to smile reverently, but groan in distress.
"I am Eta-Upsilon-Rho-Nu-Theta slave 4, Provost. I live to serve the tenets of ΗΥPΝΘ. I need your permission to cum."
He began whispering a script embedded deep in his head, reciting it over and over as he stroked himself gradually, then desperately. Tovah half-laughed, half-wanted to kick herself for taking too long to decipher "Chas" as chastity.
"Stop, slave. Pay attention to my finger now," she held her index finger just above his eyes, waving it side to side above his eye-line, occasionally dropping it below his face. "Follow my finger back and forth, feel yourself beginning to sink more and more. Stuck to, magnetized to my finger, falling as you fall, until you sleep for me." Snapping her fingers at "sleep," he ceased moving and sank back into the state she found him.
Taking her performance heels off, she quietly tip-toed through the hallway. Unwilling to open any doors along the way, she crept to the stairs leading to the house's exit, hoping not make any kind of alerting sound, or find any more evidence of her inexplicable exploits. Unfortunately, looking down to the first floor, she saw the doors of the fraternity's huge rec room mostly closed. The section of the doors not closed showed a stream of familiarly-colored light pouring out from the room. She stared at the beaming pinks and other soft colors for long seconds, allowing her brain to catch up to what it was, gasping as she finally allowed herself to believe what could've happened happened. Everything prior seem inconsequential, and yet everything since waking up made more sense now as her mind imagined a group of students sleeping in the living room area, covered in colored, flashing illuminating lights meant to be stared at instead of sunlight. Around the closed rec room were signs strewn about the house identified it as a fraternity called Sigma-Phi-Beta. Deciphering the name of the fraternity from the signs was difficult as it looked messily vandalized, with Eta-Upsilon-Rho-Nu-Theta written over them.
Near the top of the fraternity's staircase, Tovah leaned against the wall, lightly banging her head against it, cursing at herself for what she'd done, especially for not being able to remember how she did it. The clearest, most recent memories that came back was doing a standard stage show for the college, or maybe the fraternity, and intending to play it straight on this job. As the renown stage hypnotist Miss Mentalist and currently her own manager, she enjoyed putting on lots of shows that seemed like harmless fun, and occasionally turning it into mind-blowing, forgettable fun. A few side-ventures she ran under the umbrella of "Wildcat Consulting," she got to let her inner unethical hypno-deviant out every once in a while and service her libido, as well as anyone else whom she chose to deal with. Under any working circumstance, she made sure she stayed in-control of all the involved moving pieces, meaning staying typically sober and away from impulses and/or substances that knowingly made her a loose cannon. Whatever caused her to lose herself, a cannon did go off, exploding her influence onto a so far admittedly sexy student body, or bodies.
Her first impulse was to evacuate, to run as fast as she could away. It was the most tempting choice, except for the fact that someone would probably awaken, remembering the havoc she caused, deeply tarnishing her seemingly spotless reputation among other things she valued. And even if that sounded better, her purse and phone were still missing; she'd be leaving with no cash, credit cards, or the device that served as her sole business hub, with nothing saved in the cloud.
"Fuck," Tovah whispered to herself again.
"Please Provost, may I lick you out again?" the hypnotist nearly jumped out of her skin hearing the pledge's voice that snuck up to her side, as if desperately waiting to serve again. Ignoring the offer that made her slick between the legs, she looked to the barely mindful woman with concern.
"Do you remember what happened last night, pledge?" she asked, curious about the girl's real name, but not wanting to spark anything that would summon consciousness yet.
"Yes, Provost. You took us all and made us part of your sorority. We happily, helplessly accepted."
"D-do you remember why I did that last night?"
"Yes, Provost. You wanted us, and we obey."
Despite the unsatisfyingly-vague answer, thoughts that either could be forgotten memories, or just wishful fantasizing, flashed in her head, taking everyone through some impromptu group trance, and then giving each one individual attention, brainwashing them until the only reality they knew was Miss Mentalist's lewdly-constructed Eta-Upsilon-Rho-Nu-Theta. Knowing her trousers were being stained, she sat at the top of the stairs, pulling her pants down. Urging Pledge 5 to come closer with a finger made slick with her juices, she led her by her nose with that finger until they both got their wish and she was licking Tovah and herself to fresh orgasms.
