Nancy's eyes rolled back into her head as the orgasm hit. Her whole world went red with pleasure, but the man behind her didn't let up; his finger danced on her clit until she shuddered and moaned with pleasure so intense that it was literally beyond words. "That's it," he whispered in her ear as she leaned into him, her cries echoing off the walls of the climate-controlled basement, "let it all out and come for me. That's my good girl, coming so hard, it's okay, you can moan for me, there's nobody to hear it, you can give in completely for me. That's right. Good girl. Come. Come. Come."
She slowly sank to her knees as he relentlessly fingered her. Her legs didn't want to support her anymore; every bit of her concentration was wrapped up in the tide of bliss that washed over her and through her, and trivial things like standing didn't seem to matter in the excitement of the moment. The man guided Nancy gently downward, supporting her body with his arms even as he continued to tease the pleasure out of her cunt. At last, trembling, she crested in one last climax and slumped to the floor. Her eyes didn't want to open. Her legs didn't want to stand. Her body didn't want to move.
"Now, Nancy," he whispered in her ear, crouching over her. "We've only just begun."
His voice sounded smooth and silky in her ears, impeccably mannered and yet unshakably firm. The same voice that had welcomed her to the Special Projects Archive, but with her eyes closed Nancy couldn't connect the silver-haired man in the tweed jacket with the commanding, hypnotic tones that told her to finish undressing. Those bright blue eyes behind the wire-frame glasses were charming, not mesmerizing... but as Nancy's hands lazily drifted down to push her skirt down around her ankles, she realized she didn't know if there was a difference anymore.
"That's a good girl, Nancy," he said warmly, as she finally managed to kick off her panties and expose her cunt fully to his gaze and his touch. His fingers caressed her pubic mound lovingly, but there was no mistaking the possessiveness in his hands. "You're doing so well, and of course the more you obey, the deeper you go for me. And you can just say that right now, repeating it easily and effortlessly and believing it more and more with every repetition. The more you obey..."
"The deeper I go," Nancy mumbled hazily, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. Her jacket was hanging on her chair, removed hours ago when she first settled in to begin her research. The archivist had been so kind then, so solicitous. He'd brought her books as she asked for them, provided her with 'tea and biscuits' (and Nancy was still new enough to London that the phrase still charmed her) and checked on her as the minutes became hours in the silent, sunless room. Even when her eyes began to blur with exhaustion from poring over ancient manuscripts, even when she stared at the growing pile of tomes to be reshelved and despaired that she'd just gotten started with her project, he'd been nothing but helpful.
Nancy couldn't quite figure out when his polite requests had become polite insistences, when he'd stopped asking her what she needed and started telling her. But that was when it all started. When he told her to close her tired eyes and rest for a moment, to just listen to his voice and let all that stress vanish out of her mind with every slow, lazy breath... that was when Nancy began to surrender to his control. It just seemed so much easier to relax and concentrate on his gentle, dulcet tones. It felt so peaceful to unwind her thoughts and accept his. And the more she listened...
"The more I obey," she murmured again, her body gently settling into a prone position on the cushion of her own clothing. She didn't remember what he'd just said to her; long stretches of time kept disappearing into the haze of pleasure in the back of her head. Even his name simply vanished into the thick, white fog that swallowed more and more of her thoughts with every moment; she struggled to come up with it, but her mind only wanted to supply her with the word 'Master'. Nancy knew that wasn't right, but she'd long ago stopped remembering why.
"That's my good girl, Nancy," he replied, his fingers sliding back into her wet pussy. The sensation blurred Nancy's sense of time, confusing her perceptions until she couldn't quite remember for a moment whether she was experiencing reality or profound deja vu. She felt like she was sinking into pleasure all over again, so distracted by the feel of his finger on her clit that she couldn't process what he was doing to her. It felt so good, and she couldn't resist all that pleasure, could she? "Of course not. And you don't need to." She realized she'd tuned out again, that his words had become her thoughts without her even noticing. "Because the more you obey..."
Nancy sighed, her hips involuntarily squirming into his touch. "The deeper I go," she whimpered. The words came automatically now; his voice had worn a groove into her mind with the endless repetitions, creating an unthinking association between obedience and trance. She was deeply hypnotized, so naturally she obeyed him. She allowed him to command her mind and body, so naturally she didn't need to think for herself anymore. The pleasure welded the two ideas together in a seamless loop, one link in a chain of programming that bound her mind into his control. She almost marveled at how quickly he'd taken her will away, but she had no idea how long she'd spent lost in the fog of bliss for him.
It didn't matter anyway. His trance lasted as long as it needed to last. Nancy went as deep as she needed to go to accept his programming without hesitation. "You're so open now, Nancy," he cooed gently in her ear, his other hand lightly teasing her nipples until her breath came in gasps. "Every time you repeat my words, you find another spot in your mind that still resists and smooth it away into obedience. As you sink further and further into trance, you surrender more and more to my will. The deeper you go..."
