Chapter 2
It was a great feeling, pulling into my driveway, and having Desiree, my sexy receptionist park on the street. She climbed out of her car and we walked up to my door together. Her pink blouse fluttered in the slight breeze, but I grinned, neither it nor her tight black skirt would stay on for long if I had my way. I opened it and led her inside. Once inside, I slipped off my shoes and socks, and I invited her to sit on the couch.
"Sleep, Desiree, Sleep." I told her.
Desiree dropped immediately into a deep trance. The keywords working like a charm.
"Desiree, who is Mr. Kent?" I began.
"Mr. Kent, my boss." She slurred.
"Desiree, when Mr. Kent tells you to do something, you do the thing without question." I prodded. She didn't respond, and in this state no response was a good response, it meant she wasn't fighting it.
"If Mr. Kent tells you to take off your clothes, then taking off your clothes is the right thing to do, and you are happy to do it." I ingrained in her.
"If Mr. Kent tells you to suck his..." I tried to remember the term she had used, "... peepee, you say yes and do your best. You may ask questions about how to do what he asks, but what he asks you to do is right. You will try to let him try to push it into your throat and will do your best to avoid gagging. Your body was made to please a man, and right now the man it is to please is your boss. You will know that Mr. Kent's peepee is special. It is holy. Normally, only your husband's peepee can touch your body. Because Mr. Kent's peepee is special and it too can touch your body. All other peepees are dirty. If another peepee touches your body it will be dirty in a way that only jesus can clean."
Desiree seemed to smile, I was surprised how well she took that. Talking with her mother had given me some ideas how to more easily work with my already pliant receptionist. The clearly religious environment she had been raised in had not been entirely clear to me before.
"Mr. Kent is sacred too. He can see you naked without it being sin. You desire to please him. Anything he asks of you, you will do." Okay, I was pushing things. The odds of her taking these were not good.
"Yes...." She breathed.
.... Holy fuck. She took that?...
"Whenever you are not with Mr. Kent, you will believe that nothing has happened between the two of you. He has never seen any part of your naked body not normally exposed by your clothing. He has never touched your body. You have never seen his peepee and it never touched you. Whenever you are with Mr. Kent you will remember that he may do with your body as he pleases and that is a good thing. You are happy to have your body used to please Mr. Kent."
I knew hypnotic amnesia was a thing, and that it had been thoroughly documented. Conditional amnesia was common too. A common thing for hypnotic performers to do was to give a subject amnesia until a certain criteria was met, like going to the bathroom, and then having their friends use this to have fun with the individual who would have no memory of being hypnotized until the condition was met. Now, making it a recurring thing, that I wasn't positive would work.
"Wake, Desiree, Wake." I told her.
Now to see how well she took the suggestions and how much it changed her. I expected it to take time, but within thirty seconds she was starting to stir, then blinked, raising her head up.
Well, time to test the suggestions.
"Take off your clothes, Desiree." I told her.
"Of course." Desiree affirmed, standing up and pulling her pink blouse over her head. I had seen and groped her breasts earlier, but I still loved to see that bra come into view. Her breasts were cupped nicely in her bra, and when it came off, those nice tits came back into view. She didn't hesitate and pulled down her skirt, it stretched and slid over her hips. I finally got to see her panties. They were basic pink cotton granny panties with lace along the top and circling the leg holes. Desiree didn't stop there, immediately grabbing the band of her panties and pulling them down and stepping out of them, adding them to the small pile of her clothes on the couch.
She stood before me in her naked glory. Her tits were as great as they had been earlier and I loved the fact that I had open access to them. Her hips were smooth and let down to the lovely curves of her ass, though she was facing me so I couldn't see the actual asset. Her crotch was covered with a fair carpet of dark black pubes. The bare top of the lips of her pussy were visible. She was the definition of fuckable.
I reached out and grabbed her tits, massaging and groping them. She happily stood there and let me grope her, just closing her eyes to enjoy the attention I was giving her tits. I reached down and slid my hand between her legs and felt the moisture of the lips of her pussy. Her hips opened to allow me access. I kept sliding across her folds, feeling her most intimate parts. I found her clitoris easily, as it was a sizable bump and it was quite responsive, making Desiree gasp and moan.
"Oh, I like you touching my private parts even more than you touching my mammary glands!" She moaned.
"Okay, let's get some names straight." I told her. 'Mammary glands' was going to get old fast. "Mammary glands is their scientific name, but no one calls squirrels 'Sciurus carolinensis'." I liked squirrels, and that name was one that stuck for me. "In company, like with family, doctors, and such they are called breasts. To close friends, people you are flirting with, or want to feel sexy, or desirable to, they are called boobs. When using your body to make someone feel good, or when you want to use your body to make them feel good, they are either boobs or tits."
"Then I love you touching my tits!" She proclaimed, "What are my private parts called?"
I massaged the folds of the mentioned parts, "Well, the outer parts here are called the labia. But people call them your lips. This here is called your clitoris, but people call it your clit. The hole thing is called your vagina, but the vagina is really this hole here and the tunnel beyond." I told her, rubbing and groping the parts of her pussy as I named them, ending with my fingers dipping into her hole. "Most people don't call it a vagina, though it isn't unheard of. Most people call it a pussy, especially the hole where my fingers are. When you really want it touched or to make someone feel good, you can call it your cunt. Cunt and tits are more crude though, so be careful when you use them."
Desiree smiled, "I love you touching my tits and cunt!" She smugly declared.
I took my hand down and gripped one of her tight, firm butt cheeks in my hand, giving her ass a nice squeeze.
"I like you touching my bottom too!" Desiree breathed. "Does my bottom have other names too? I only know that one."
"Yes. People call it a lot of things. Butt is the one most people use in common conversation, but for a more mature use, like when doing feel good activities or such, you call it your ass. And this is your asshole." I informed her, wiggling a finger into her tight, sexy asshole.
"Oh!" Desiree gasped, clearly not expecting a finger in her asshole, and not sure what she thought. I knew if she didn't have my suggestions, she would be flipping out. Everything else had just been sexy and fun for her, and it all felt good. This was the first test of how she'd react when it wasn't immediately good. She squirmed for a second, then just smiled and wiggled her butt on my finger. "That feels...interesting..."
I smiled, "Just wait until that is my peepee."
Desiree looked at me confused and concerned, "What do you mean?"
