The Beginning Is the End Is...

This is a sequel to the story, "The End Is the Beginning Is the End", also on Literotica.

*****

"...and wake." My eyelids flutter a little, but they don't seem to want to open more than halfway. I feel like it's one of those lazy Saturday mornings where nothing seems to have any real urgency and the morning stretches out into a timeless dream. I feel like I could lie here forever, simply luxuriating in pure unadulterated drowsiness. There's a sleepy smile on my face, and it feels perfectly at home there. I let out a gentle sigh and give a long, languid stretch. Everything feels perfect.

"How do you feel?" he asks. He's sitting on the bed next to me, his hand resting possessively on my belly. I realize slowly that I'm not wearing any clothes; the sheets are tangled around my feet, leaving me entirely exposed to his gaze. But I don't feel exposed. It's more like I feel open. There's no sudden panic at my nudity, there's no fear at all. I feel no shame, just a slow and dreamy heat radiating out from where his skin touches mine to spread all the way through my naked body. I find myself shifting to allow my legs to spread open a little wider as he stares.

"Happy, sir," I say quietly. It takes me longer than I expected to come up with my answer; my thoughts still seem sluggish and disconnected to me, and I can't quite seem to catch up to my own mind. I'm still trying to puzzle out why it is I'm having so much trouble thinking when I realize that I called him 'sir', the word slipping out of my lips with instinctive ease while I wasn't thinking. I try to think about that as well, but my brain doesn't want to seem to hold two ideas at once. It barely even wants to hold one.

"That's a good girl," he replies. He turns to face me a little more, and I can see that he's naked as well. His body is slender, but well-formed, and I can easily imagine caressing it and feeling his warmth under my fingers just like he's doing to me. I find myself looking at his cock with an almost obsessive distraction, my gaze returning to it whenever I lose my train of thought. I think I might have lost my train of thought again. It was something about how much trouble I'm having keeping my train of thought, but I can't keep track and there's his cock again. It's slender and well-formed just like he is.

"Do you remember how you got here, pet?" he asks, and my fragile concentration pops like a soap bubble. My eyelids flutter again as I enjoy the sensation of letting it go. It feels like a gentle hand brushing against my mind, caressing away the distractions and allowing me to focus my attention on his words. My thoughts still feel like they're drifting and wandering far more than they should, but thinking about that feels like trying to grab a soap bubble all over again.

But it's easy to pay attention to his words. They resonate in my head until my answer slips out without even needing to think about it. "You told me to follow you, sir," I say, my voice docile and respectful. An observer might even mistake it for boredom, but I know he can hear how happy I am right now. Sure enough, he smiles, and I can feel it like a ripple of warm water washing over me.

"That's right, pet," he says. His hand moves in gentle circles as he speaks, spreading the warmth of his touch around like a lotion. "I thought you were ready to go somewhere private with me, so that we could get to know each other more intimately." I shiver slightly at the last word. It sounds like a promise.

He lets his hand roam a little lower, tracing the swell of my hip where it meets my belly, and I squirm a little with arousal. "Do you remember what happened next, good girl?" he asks. His voice is filled with infinite patience, but I can see his cock jutting up between his legs and I know that this is having an effect on him too. I want to touch him so badly, but my limbs still feel heavy and languorous and so I just lie there and wriggle ever so gently under his touch.

But my mouth still responds. I don't think I could stop myself from answering even if I tried, but I'm too distracted even to try. "You hypnotized me, sir." I remember it only as I say it-it's like my words gently pull aside a veil that concealed the blissful sensations of trance from my mind's eye. I remember staring into his eyes, sinking down into peaceful slumber with a sense of recursive familiarity that caught me and held me and took me into his power like it was something I'd done a thousand times before.

And every time I caught myself wondering why I recognized the sensation, I would remember wondering that the last time I looked into his eyes and sank into his power. And that memory took me another level deeper into trance and that unlocked another memory and that memory took me deeper and that unlocked another memory and that memory took me deeper, spiraling back and down through trance after endless trance until it felt like I had been that way forever. Like the rest of my world, the rest of my life was nothing more than a silly dream, and obedience was the reality.

"That's right, pet," he says, his words dragging me out of the endless Mobius loop of remembrance to focus on his words. And his cock. I notice that I'm staring again. I swallow heavily, my mouth watering as my eyes lock helplessly onto the tiny dribble of precum leaking from the tip. "I hypnotized you so that I could teach you. Do you remember your lessons, pretty girl?"

I don't remember them, really. "I am yours, sir." I don't need to, any more than I need to remember breathing. "I belong to you, sir." They're deep in my mind now, deeper than thought or memory, an inextricable part of my very self. "You own me, sir." My breathing quickens slightly as my arousal builds, the words coming from my lips startling me with their erotic power. "I was born to be your good girl, sir."

He reaches up to caress my cheek, and my eyes drift away from his cock to lock onto his stare. His big brown eyes are so warm and deep that I feel like I could sink into them forever. "That's a very good girl. You've learned your lessons so well. Show me how good it feels to be such a clever student." I nod, but my gaze never moves away from his even for a second.

"I am yours, sir," I whisper as my hand drifts down between my legs. The tingling pleasure seeps through me as my fingers rub and stroke, my thighs clenching around them as they tease my sensitive mound. It's like every nerve in my body is waking up to the potential it holds for ecstasy, tuning in to the signals coming from my clit as I pet my pussy for him. "I belong to you, sir. You own me, sir. I was born to be your good girl, sir."

I want to rub harder, to grind my hand against my clit while my fingers thrust deep until I scream in orgasm. But my body doesn't seem to be under my control anymore. My limbs feel strangely distant, heavy and light at the same time as they move in practiced rhythm to tease me to the edge of climax and leave me floating there. And all that time I hear that voice, inexorably programming me with a blank monotone that recites endlessly, "I am yours, sir. I belong to you, sir. You own me, sir. I was born to be your good girl, sir."

"You're doing so well, pet." I feel his fingers trace down my cheek, along my throat, brushing softly over the swell of my breasts to tickle my nipples until they stand up firm and erect. I gasp, but even the sudden pleasure of his touch doesn't send me over the edge into orgasm. My body won't let me cum. My hands won't do what I tell them to. I'm heavy and floating and my mind is fuzzy and I feel like I almost understand what's happening to me, but then I realize that I'm staring at his cock again and the realization slips away.

Before I can even try to get it back, he's asking me another question. "You love it when I hypnotize you, don't you?" His voice is like a chain wrapped in velvet, binding my attention without ever losing that soft and gentle purr that makes me shiver in quiet bliss. It goes right into the back of my mind, past the part of me that listens right to the part that obeys.

"Yes, sir," I whisper, writhing slowly on the bed as my teasing hand wrings yet more pleasure out of me. My fingers are slick where they slide against my skin, and I know that I'm long past the point where my body would have spilled over into orgasm. But what I'm feeling now is almost purer than that, an endless peak without a valley. I find myself staring into his eyes again, and I shudder as I realize that I don't even know what I was looking at before that. My mind's eye is blank and white and empty for long stretches now.

"You always want me to hypnotize you, don't you, pet?" I whimper in helpless arousal, the soft and liquid mewl of desire a clearer answer than words could ever be. I know he's directing my mind, leading me deeper into his will with questions designed to prompt an endless string of pleading, desperate repetitions of 'yes', but I can't stop myself. I don't want to stop myself. Resistance no longer exists for me even as an abstract concept.

"Yes, sir," I chant, my words escaping in time with the swirls of my fingers on my clit. "Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir..." I don't even want to cum anymore. I don't want to be released from this perfect high of pure, shuddery obedience and endless sensation. I just want to be his, to be in this fog of pleasure forever and never wake up. Freedom can't compare to this. I don't even want to remember it anymore.

He puts a finger to my lips. My whole body goes still and silent, quivering like a violin string with the residual ecstasy of dancing along the edge of orgasm for so long but otherwise completely immobile. "Look at me, pet. Focus on me. Completely locked on my words and my will." I can't move, I can't even say a single word, but my rapt silence speaks volumes.

"You want to sink into my trance, pet." He doesn't need me to respond. He has not a moment's doubt about my obedience. My eyes are heavy, half-lidded and glassy, but they are completely focused on his gaze as he speaks to me. "You want to be my beautiful, hypnotized good girl forever, your thoughts sleeping in my will as you go so deep that you don't even know how to wake anymore."

I don't speak, but I let out a slow, lazy sigh as the fantasy steals over my mind. My limbs slowly relax from their vibrating tension into a deep, dreamy lassitude as I imagine being constantly fuzzy and thoughtless. I picture the quiet beauty of my mind and body constantly under his control, locked onto his will and perfectly responsive to his commands. I can imagine it perfectly-floating and heavy at the same time, my eyes drifting to stare helplessly at whatever he subtly directs my attention to, my thoughts popping like soap bubbles until all I can think of is what I'm commanded to think of.

That's when I finally understand, but that understanding has an undertow that drags me even deeper into his power. I remember the trigger that eluded my sleepy mind, but then I forget because my sleepy mind is too sleepy to remember that I had a trigger to begin with. How can you think clearly about how deep you are in mindless trance? How can you understand that you no longer have any thoughts at all? It's too much for me. My mind blissfully loses the struggle to piece it together and I go blank. Blanker. Blankest.

He knows I'm ready. He knows just what I need to hear now, and he's simply been waiting for me to reach that point before telling me. "I'm going to give you that gift, pretty girl," he says, laying his hand possessively on my belly. "The deepest trance, the most perfect trance, all for you. You can feel yourself sinking into it now. You're so blissfully deep that trying to wake only sends you deeper, deeper into my power. Deeper into my will."

I sigh happily. "Trying to wake sends me deeper, sir," I mumble, my mouth barely able to form the words anymore. I'm so deep that every muscle is relaxed to near immobility, and my thoughts are nothing but an echo of his commands. My mind is nothing but obedience to his will. I can see his cock out of the corner of my eye, still achingly hard, and I want nothing more than to worship it with my tongue and my fingers...but my thoughts are bent to obedience even more than worship. He will allow me to pleasure him when he is ready.

"That's right, good girl," he says. He smiles lovingly at me as he sees me shape myself into his perfect pet. But my deep self knows that there is still so much work to be done. My resistance is gone, but I can still become more perfectly obedient. And he is willing to keep going as long as he needs to in order to make that happen. Only then will he give in to his own desires.

"Every time you try to wake, you go deeper...and deeper...and deeper," he says, and the words settle perfectly into the channel carved into my mind by endless repetition. Endless conditioning. Endless, beautiful brainwashing. "And wake." My eyelids flutter a little, but they don't seem to want to open more than halfway...

(THE BEGINNING IS) THE END (IS THE BEGINNING)