Sweetest Perfection

Michael was already deeply hypnotized by the time they got to the restaurant, but that didn't stop his eyes from locking onto the sign on the door and letting it send him deeper as Lynn led him through it. 'Entrance', it said. He remembered all the jokes about hypnofetishists deliberately stressing the wrong syllable. He didn't laugh now. He just sighed softly, letting the warm, mellow sensation of floating in trance take him over. Part of him wanted to close his eyes and sink completely into trance, but Lynn wanted him to experience the evening in its entirety. Michael knew he had to obey. He would keep his eyes open, see and hear and smell and taste and touch while remaining deeply hypnotized. Lynn would guide him and protect him and make sure the experience was a wonderful one, he knew.

They walked up to the maitre'd. "Pilsner," she said. "Party of two." Michael was grateful not to have to speak. It wasn't that speaking was difficult; when Lynn prompted him, he could easily and effortlessly respond to her words and obey. But speaking to others meant choosing words, and choosing meant thinking, and Michael was already sunk so far down into warm, pleasant trance that it was too hard to think. Lynn would think for him tonight. He just had to be a good boy. He just had to surrender to her will. And that would feel so good, he knew.

The maitre'd led Lynn back to a table, and Lynn led Michael. Nobody noticed, probably. She just took his arm in hers, and the two of them walked side by side through the restaurant. But Lynn knew she was leading a deeply hypnotized tranceslut around in public, and Michael knew he was a deeply hypnotized tranceslut who was following his Mistress. He knew it felt so good to follow, and he knew that it felt good because he'd been deeply, completely brainwashed to enjoy obedience. He knew that all of his willpower had been...not broken. When Lynn released him from trance, he was free to think, free to enjoy the pleasures of his own life. No, his will had not been broken, it had surrendered. All of his willpower had been turned to reinforcing his surrender, to helping him obey instead of helping him resist, because obedience felt so much better than resistance. Obedience was pleasure. The fact that he felt pleasure because he'd been conditioned to feel pleasure when obeying only reinforced both the pleasure and the conditioning.

Lynn helped him to sit down, making sure that he didn't simply slump bonelessly into the chair, then took a seat across from him. She had perfectly positioned herself so that the single candle in the center of the table was framed by her eyes. He could see her eyes, and right in between them, he could see the candle. His eyes seemed to waver in their focus, sometimes drawn into the candle, sometimes drawn just slightly out to her eyes. As he alternated between one and the other, he felt his mind sink deeper into a warm, pleasant, hazy fog.

"Deeper," she whispered. She was smiling as she looked at him. He felt so happy to be making her happy.

"...deeper..." he responded, his own voice barely a whisper. His arms and legs felt too heavy to move, now. He knew he only needed to stare into her eyes and relax. He could feel the smile on his face.

"Blank," she whispered. All the other patrons in the restaurant probably thought they were exchanging words of love. In a sense, they were. Just not ones most other people would recognize.

"...blank..." he said softly. And he was blank. Sometimes a thought would drift by, but he'd just let it pass. He didn't need to think. He just needed to let his mind sleep, held deep within Lynn's will, relaxing more with every passing moment.

"Open,' she said. He let his mind open to her words, to her voice. The thought drifted by that he felt so lucky to be here tonight, to love someone so hypnotic, so commanding, so powerful yet still so loving.

"...open..." he said. The thought vanished again. He wasn't worried. He didn't need it. It felt so good to be deep, and blank, and open, and when he needed to think of it again, he would.

Her eyes looked away from his, to the arriving waitress. "Good evening," she said, handing them both menus. Michael took his, letting his eyes wander over the contents without really taking them in. "Do you need a few minutes to look over the menu?"

"No, I think we can puzzle it out pretty quick." Lynn looked at her menu for a moment. "I think I'll have the chicken Caesar's salad," she said. "But leave the dressing on the side, please."

"Of course," the waitress said, taking notes. "And for you, sir?"

"He'll have the chicken Parmesan." He'd known all evening that she'd be ordering for him. It was only natural. He was too deeply hypnotized to make decisions anyway, and he trusted Lynn so much. It was that trust that allowed her to hypnotize him so deeply to begin with. If he could trust her with his mind, he could certainly trust her with his dinner.

The waitress gave him a tiny look, just a slight puzzled stare that suggested she was trying to figure out what was up with him. She'd probably never figure it out. His imagination drifted into the fantasy that she would, and that she would ask Lynn how it felt to feel like Michael felt right now. He imagined Lynn putting him through his paces for the young woman, showing off all his triggers, all his programming, showing what a good boy he was. He loved being a good boy for Lynn.

The waitress brought out breadsticks for them, and Lynn said, "Go ahead and take one. You'll find that every bite will send you ten times deeper than you were before." Michael reached out and took a breadstick, putting it slowly to his mouth and taking a bite. He wasn't sure exactly what 'ten times deeper' would feel like, he felt like he was already infinitely deep within her will, but each bite seemed to relax him more and more, until he felt like he was eating underwater. Everything just seemed to move in slow motion, except for his thoughts, which had already stopped completely. He lost count of how many breadsticks she fed to him by the time the main course arrived. He lost the ability to count completely somewhere after the third bite.

The chicken arrived, and he found himself easily and mechanically cutting up the food while continuing to gaze at Lynn, utterly lost in her eyes. He brought the bites of chicken to his mouth, and although he expected not to even notice the taste, as deeply entranced as he was, it had the opposite effect; freed completely from thought, he focused totally on the sensation of the rich, savory food melting in his mouth. It tasted so good, felt so good, and he was sure no chef had ever pleased a diner more. He felt like his senses were being overwhelmed, the taste and scent filling his mind and making him shiver in pleasure. Lynn just watched him as she ate, drinking in his soft, hazy pleasure. He was so glad he was making her happy. He felt incandescent with pleasure.

When the waitress returned, asking if they wanted dessert, Lynn decided against it for herself, but she ordered a small hazelnut gelato for Michael. As soon as the waitress left, Lynn stood up and went around the table to whisper directly into his ear. That simple, yet deeply intimate gesture never failed to stir his arousal, and the words she whispered stirred him even more. "Every bite of your dessert will send you into another orgasm for me. You will come, in your mind, with every bite you taste. You will not move, or moan, or do anything that would betray this pleasure to anyone else, but every taste will make you come for me. You're going to come so hard, Michael. Do you understand?"

She was already slipping back into her chair as he said, "yes." He waited for the dessert in an ecstasy of anticipation, but his face betrayed nothing but the same sleepy, gentle pleasure he'd felt all night long. When the waitress set the gelato down in front of him, he picked up the spoon with trembling fingers and scooped up a tiny bite.

He brought it to his lips, half-anticipating that the feverish heat of his body would melt the ice cream before he could eat it. Instead, it melted in his mouth, and he let out a long, shuddery sigh as he felt the orgasm hit. The echo in his mind of the physical sensation left him gasping, but he couldn't stop himself from taking another bite. The sweetness burst onto his tongue, the orgasm burst into his mind, again and again, again and again, knowing his mistress was drinking in his pleasure, knowing she was pleased with him, that knowledge taking the sweet, wonderful pleasure of orgasm and bringing it one step beyond into perfect bliss...

By the time he finished, the effort of holding his muscles taut to keep them from spasming in orgasmic joy had left him feeling weak and shaky. Lynn took care of the check, and he let himself lean on her as they headed back out to her car. Instead of letting him into the passenger's seat, though, she opened the back door and took him into the back with her. She looked at him, and he instinctively locked onto her eyes.

"In a moment, Michael, you're going to wake, and you're going to let all those sensations, all those memories fill your waking mind. You're going to remember every bit of what happened back there, all of it, on the count of three. One. Starting to come up... Two. Feeling your mind flow back...and three."

It was only then that Michael let himself moan and gasp, shudder and whimper and collapse shaking into Lynn's arms, letting her hold him close and comforted and oh, so very, very blissful.

THE END