Keeping Your Head Up

"Morning, Kay!" Mack said cheerfully from her office doorway, giving her a bright smile that made her feel exhausted just looking at it. "Busy morning, huh? You already look like you're having trouble keeping your head up, and it's not even ten o'clock yet!" Kay glanced up at him, grateful for the chance to get her eyes off of the endless columns of budgetary data that were already beginning to swim and dance in her bleary vision. She had a ginormous mug of coffee, but short of putting it straight into her veins intravenously she didn't think it was going to help.

But for all that he was friendly and sweet, Mack was technically a few notches higher than Kay was on the org chart and she didn't have the luxury of asking him to come back later. Their daily meetings were too important for that, even if lately Kay didn't feel like she even retained half the information the lanky African-American man shared with her when he stopped by. "It's, um, it's been another rough night," she muttered, gesturing to him to come in and close the door behind him. "I don't know why, I just can't seem to get enough sleep lately."

Kay found her gaze lowering to her desk, a tell she hoped was concealed by her general weariness and slumped, languid demeanor. Despite herself, though, she could feel the faintest stirrings of a blush on her pale, expressive cheeks, and she felt distinctively and uncomfortably seen by Mack's friendly grin and hazel-eyed stare. Because she did know why she couldn't get enough sleep lately, and it wasn't a reason that was appropriate to discuss at the workplace. Especially not when she was technically Mack's subordinate. Especially not when he was a... well, a very handsome man, not to put too fine a point on it. Mack wore a tailored suit to work every day, and it wasn't hard to notice the lean, wiry muscles beneath it.

If he noticed the heat pricking at her cheeks, though, he gave no sign. Instead, he simply clucked his tongue at her and said, "You need to take better care of yourself! You know what I always recommend, Miss Durleigh?" Kay was so tired she honestly didn't, or at least she couldn't bring it to mind, but the last thing she wanted was to admit as much. So she forced a chuckle and a nod, giving him a rueful smile that she hoped would suffice to give the impression of an agreement without the awkwardness of having to get into any of the specifics of what she was agreeing with.

But of course that approach had its risks too. "Excellent!" Mack said boisterously, clapping his hands together in excitement and sitting down across from her. "Then let's get started. I think we'll both be a lot more productive with a few minutes of guided meditation clearing our heads." Too late, Kay remembered Mack's near obsession with using all sorts of 'focus techniques' to help improve concentration and clarity of thought in the workplace. Sometimes it was guided meditation, sometimes it was creative visualization, sometimes it was just a power nap... because the regular kind that Kay so desperately needed wasn't good enough, apparently... but he always loved dragging her into it right along with him.

And naturally Kay couldn't even begin to explain why she didn't want to. Because telling Mack what they reminded her of would involve getting into the same territory as describing what kept her up late at night, and Kay had already pretty emphatically decided she wasn't going to do that. Even if Mack wasn't shocked or upset... and every once in a while, she found herself imagining that maybe he wouldn't be if she gave in to her private impulse to overshare and let him in on her little secret... it felt like it would cede a lot of power to her nominal boss to give him that kind of information.

So with nothing else to do but accept her fate, Kay reached across the desk and put her petite hands in Mack's big mitts. Kay squirmed awkwardly in her chair--ever since she was a teenager, attending slumber parties and listening to the breathless, giggly conversation of other girls who had no more experience with boys than she did even though they pretended otherwise, Kay had enjoyed something of a thing for men with big hands. Despite learning the hard way that it didn't mean what people said it meant, it was still just one of those things she noticed about a guy. Especially a guy like Mack.

Not that she'd ever... because he was a co-worker, and a superior at that... and it wasn't even like Kay was thinking about dating anyway, because she was only beginning to explore her own very particular sexual interests and she didn't want to drag some guy on along her journey into kinks that even startled her sometimes... and besides, she'd met Mack's wife at some company functions and Layla was a perfectly lovely woman, obviously besotted with her husband to the point of worshiping the ground he walked on, and... and okay, maybe that was one of those new sexual interests she'd discovered and she thought about it sometimes during those long, late nights that always made her so tired when she came into the office, but... but... but....

"Eyes closed, Kay, and focus on the sound of my voice," and Kay felt a warm, wet throb of arousal as she complied with Mack's instructions.

It wasn't his fault, of course. He had no idea what it did to Kay when he lowered his tones into that purring baritone register that sounded like so many of the anonymous hypnotists she'd gotten used to listening to during her marathon masturbation sessions that lasted well into the wee hours of the morning. He didn't have even the slightest clue how sexual she found it when she heard him saying things like, "Picture your thoughts like heavy, exhausting weights, so many you can't even hold them all, and imagine how much of a relief it is to let them tumble one by one from your grasp." That was... to normal people that was just soothing.

But god, every time she got roped into another one of these guided meditation sessions--and Kay was only just now recalling how many of their 10 AM meetings started off with her closing her eyes and letting her chin droop forward onto her chest as she began to time the rhythm of her breathing to the sound of his slow, steady inhales and exhales--Kay wound up thinking to herself that Mack had the absolute perfect voice for erotic hypnosis. It was so charming, so welcoming, and so... so sensual that she always found herself drifting into a sexy reverie, thinking of the previous evening's edging and wishing she was back in her own bed with her favorite toy. Fuck, Mack's wife was a hell of a lucky woman.

"Getting lighter and lighter as those thoughts fall away, giving up on that exhausting effort to hold them and letting yourself relax into peace and pleasure as my voice carries you deeper and deeper into relaxation." Kay felt her head wobble on her shoulders as she made a faint, futile effort to hold it upright, but already it felt so good to let it go limp that she simply allowed herself to slump forward in vacuous bliss. She wondered if Mack's wife ever let him do this to her. Jesus, he probably wouldn't be able to stop himself from jumping her bones if she did. Layla looked like one of those women who would be so sexy when they let themselves be hypnotized.

Not that--yes, Kay had a bi streak, and yes, she spent some of her long nights looking up videos of women getting hypnotized and fantasized about her eyelids fluttering and her jaw going slack and a trickle of drool dribbling down her chin as she gave in to the inexorable power of a charismatic stranger like they did, but--but Kay couldn't think of a way of finishing that sentence that didn't acknowledge daydreaming about going over to Mack's house and discovering for herself that the beautiful woman with the ebony skin drifted happily in a submissive daze for her husband. And that they'd targeted her in some kind of sinister plan to brainwash and enslave her as well.

"And the deeper you go, the less you think, and the less you think, the better it feels, and the better it feels, the deeper you go, Kay, until you're not even thinking for yourself at all. Your mind is so wonderfully blank and empty, allowing my words to become your thoughts, while your unconscious self absorbs every last detail and agrees without question." That right there, that would be the kind of induction that made Kay jill off until the residual heat carried her on to a ruined orgasm even after she'd already pulled her hands away from her tingling cunt. Mack had no idea how horny these guided meditation sessions made her.

He--he probably thought he was helping, that was the worst part. Kay was over on one side of the desk, her face going beet red and her chest beginning to heave with great panting breaths of arousal and her hips wriggling and writhing like her panties were too tight, and he was over on the other side completely oblivious to the effect it had on her when he said perfectly innocuous things like, "You've let go of your mind and your will now, Kay, given them over to me, and because I hold them there's simply no way you can resist me anymore. The part of your mind that resists isn't there. It's with me, and I'm shaping it like clay."

But what could she even say to him about it? It wasn't like he even knew what erotic hypnosis was--Kay didn't even know, not until one night when a sudden impulse led her to search for 'sensual relaxation for women' and she stumbled onto the link to her first files. And if Kay didn't know why she was suddenly so into listening to dominant, charismatic strangers who sounded just like her co-worker, she was absolutely certain that Mack wouldn't. This was all so innocent for him. He had no idea that phrases like, "Mindless, malleable obedience to my will and my control," meant something different to Kay than they did to him.

Even so, it got harder and harder every day not to say something to him. Every time he led her down the path into her own subconscious--and no wonder Kay always forgot they spent their meetings doing this, if she knew she'd spend the rest of the day with her door locked and her hand jammed down her panties--Kay found herself wishing more and more that she could confess her submissive feelings toward her co-worker. She wished she could tell him all about how hot it was to spend her nights with her legs spread and a toy buzzing away in her pussy, staring at hypnotic graphics and listening to files from her favorite dominants and thinking about nothing but kneeling in front of Layla and burying her face in the other woman's cunt while Mack fucked her from behind. The line between those fantasies and her reality felt like it was getting thinner and thinner all the time.

But she couldn't possibly say anything about it. And that meant she couldn't admit it to herself yet, either. Not properly. Oh, she could still lose herself every night in slick, teasing arousal imagining it, and she could finger her sopping pussy to the edge of orgasm time and time again wishing it was real, but fantasy was all it could be until she fully accepted the desires that still shocked Kay with their intensity. Until then she couldn't acknowledge them as... as anything but dreams.

She was dreaming right now, dreaming of Mack pulling her hands forward until she slumped fully onto her desk with her hips resting against the edge and her ample ass sticking up in the air. She was imagining that he was going around to flip her skirt up, discovering for himself that Kay hadn't bothered putting on panties to come into the office for weeks now, unzipping his fly and roughly thrusting into the folds of her wet cunt while she whimpered and moaned in blank, blissful ecstasy. She was only wishing it was real when his cock made her cum at last, giving her the orgasm she craved so hard every night when she was eroding her resistance with a constant chase for a climax that never came. That... that had to be it.

And because it wasn't real, she wouldn't remember it. Not the hypnosis, not the sex, not the suggestions that weakened Kay's will and made her test the limits of her own endurance every night with masturbation and dazed, captivated surrender to all those files Mack guided her to. All those things would sleep in the back of Kay's brain, hidden behind a haze of endless weariness that kept her from ever regaining the volition to fight Mack's mesmerizing power over her. That made perfect sense to Kay, even as she acknowledged that it made no sense at all because it didn't happen and this was just another daydream she had while Mack guided her through some perfectly innocent meditation to help her think straight.

Mack's hips strained into her ass, grinding forward with a hoarse and urgent grunt that she'd be fantasizing about all day. He pulled out of her. Then he said, "And wake up," and Kay fluttered her eyelids open and adjusted her skirt without even thinking about what had gotten it into so much disarray in the first place. She sat back down in her chair, and with a grateful smile, she began to go over the budgets with Mack... and if she felt the trickle of semen leaking out of her messy cunt, she dismissed it as her imagination. An imagination Kay hoped would become real someday soon.

THE END