Yogabot

The sun had risen and lit up my bedroom when I opened my eyes. After taking a moment to collect myself, I looked over at my phone to find the battery had died. My earbuds were dead too.

The memory of what I had done to myself came back to me. On one level, I did not intend for it to go this way. I was worried that, after a night of repeated trance suggestions, I had totally warped my brain. If what I had read on the erotic hypnosis sites was true, the instructions would be pushed deep into me by now, and I would have started to be conditioned by them.

While I was worried, the idea also thrilled me. I smiled unceasingly as I thought about it. Something about the risk of having my very being melted and replaced with something barely more than a toy brought an intense grin to my face. I was already unable to resist Mark. Now, I thought that any small cracks in my complete surrender would be gone. Somehow, that made everything better.

I spent the majority of the morning and afternoon doing mundane tasks. After our date, I thought perhaps we would come back to my place, so I wanted to clean and restock the fridge. Then, I spent copious amounts of time in the shower on a seek-and-destroy mission to remove every stray body hair I could find.

After I had spent time sufficiently primping, I put in my newly charged ear buds and queued up the file on repeat again. This time, though, I set a one-hour timer on my phone so that it would interrupt the mp3 file. I held my breath when I pushed play, since I was not completely sure that the interruption would snap me out of my trance. But I was no longer capable of being risk averse.

When I looked at the clock, it turned out to be about an hour and 15 minutes later, which meant that the alarm had been buzzing in my ear buds for 15 minutes before I was able to get past the hypo-fog and become aware of my surroundings.

So, naturally, I did it again.

Time passed and soon I was as primped as I could be and ready for my date. I had no real idea what to expect. Would he *zap* me the moment he saw me? Or would he tease me all night with it, holding it just out of reach? Would it matter? After my latest training, would I just drop to my knees uncontrollably, whether he expected me to or not?

I had texted him to ask what to wear, unsure of whether I wanted him to pick my clothing (or lack of clothing) for him. He indicated that he was unfamiliar with my wardrobe -- true of course -- but that I should be "business casual" or a slightly more relaxed version of it.

So I picked out my best matching bra and pantry set -- well, frankly, I only had one, really. It was pink cotton. I had never been inspired to dress like a stripper.

I had almost forgotten the outfit I wore for Carl's birthday - -black, silky bra, thigh highs with a black garter and tear-away, black lacy panties. But, unfortunately, the tear-away panties had torn away badly, and were unwearable. And the outfit seemed presumptuous. I needed to learn what he liked before I took this much initiative. Worse, it held memories of Carl.

So, I settled on the pink set with a loose summer dress and some casual flats, and the jacket I had left at the bar that started my whole adventure.

I spent an infinite amount of time worrying that it was too sexy. Or not sexy enough. Or too casual. Or not submissive. Or not flattering. I was changing my mind for the hundredth time when the doorbell rang and I realized he had come to get me.

I had butterflies in my stomach.

That may seem like a small thing, but it was the first time since high school that I had felt this. And this was far more intense. I was torn between wanting to fix my hair one more time and rushing to the door like a puppy greeting her owner, which, in a way, I was.

I tried to look calm when I opened the door, but he looked...well... so very good. His open collared tan oxford hugged his tight chest and bought out the deep brown in his sexy eyes.

I don't even remember what I mumbled when I looked at him. I am sure it was something lame. And I certainly was blushing for no apparent reason.

As it turned out, he was good to his word. He had said he wanted to treat me like a princess and he did. Everything from opening his car door for me to complementing my outfit -- he remembered the jacket of course -- to suggesting what to order at the restaurant made me feel special. As it happened, he explained that he even chose the restaurant for me, remembering my preference for certain foods and matching them up with one of the specialties he had tried on a prior visit.

Another thing happened that I did not expect. As aroused as I was -- and I was!! -- the date was anything but awkward. Almost instantly, we fell into an easy conversation that lasted all evening, and, again true to his word, was not about hypnosis or sex or erotic submission. I had been nervous, since the last time he saw me, I was topless and kneeling. But my nerves were unfounded. His easy humor and graceful confidence put me at ease.

We talked like old friends, which we were. But we looked at each other like lovers.

After dinner, he held the door open for me at the restaurant on the way out, which was such a Mark-thing that he would do for anyone, but somehow made me feel proud to be seen with him. I caught the glaces of the waitresses and thought I detected a bit of envy in their eyes. Perhaps it was just my imagination. But it made me beam.

Rather than going back to his car, we went for a long walk, where he held my hand.

It was only when he started to slow and lead me into an apartment complex that I realized he was planning to take me to his place. It occurred to me that I had previously had no idea where he lived.

He was ever the gentleman. When we go close to his building, he indicated that he had prepared a special dessert and some wine and asked if I wanted to come up to his place.

"By dessert, do you mean DESSERT, or just dessert?" I asked teasingly.

"Chocolate mouse."

"Ohhhhhh that is the 2nd best dessert I can imagine! Almost as good as what I had in mind."

We laughed.

His place was clean and pleasant, but it looked, as he had said, like a temporary rental -- antiseptic, plain and with no special nuances that make a place special.

But the mousse was spectacular. And the wine -- well, as i had mentioned, I am a girl who likes her wine.

We shared a spoon as we sat close together on the sofa to eat. And it was so cute the way he would feed me sometimes.

I was still aroused. And yet, I don't think I had ever felt so completely comfortable anywhere.

So, naturally, I had to ruin it.

"So," I said, looking nervous, "I think I should tell you what I did last night."

And so I did. He listened as I told him about the editing, and the file, and the loops. And I hesitantly suggested that I was not sure there was any of the old me left after that.

He laughed. "K, the old you showed up tonight. I've never had a dinner date be as pleasing or as natural as this was."

"Well you made it easy, Mark. You have no idea how proud I was to be seen with you."

He pulled the wine glass out of my hands, set it on the table and leaned into kiss me gently. It was so gentle, and his lips so soft, that for a moment I was not sure our lips were touching. But then I could feel the heat and the movement. And it melted me.

I slid my arms around him and pulled myself into him.

All thoughts of hypnosis and submission and kinkiness dissipated, like a mist that is just out of sight. The arousal was still there. But the only thing that mattered was feeling him next to me, around me, his lips brushing mine, pulling away, then back, He kissed me harder. Then softer. Then brushed his lips to mine, just almost out of reach. Only to lean in and kiss me hard again.

It drove me forward with a passion more intense than anything I had ever felt. Perhaps it was the hypnosis, or the submission or how I had humiliated myself for him. Or perhaps it was just him. But whatever it was, it became the only thing in the world.

I pulled back a little so I could gently lick his lips. When we kissed again, I slid my tongue into his willing mouth. His tongue rose to meet it, so strong. His breath was so hot.

It seemed to be the case that whenever I was with him I lost all track of time. And so it was. Our kisses became more and more passionate as my tongue drove deep down his throat, then withdrew to suck his into me as far as I could.

Our breathing became heavy.

He stopped kissing my lips to move to the nape of my neck. I felt his breath there first, then his tongue, hot and wet. Then his lips caressed my sensitive skin. I trembled. I pulled him close and threw back my head, letting out a quiet, unintentional moan.

"Ohhhhhh yesssss..."

He kept working on my neck, then my shoulders. By the time he changed direction and nibbled my earlobe I was a puddle of lust and passion.

"ohhhhhh yeeesssssss... ooohhh I.... " I tickled his ear with my breathless whisper, "I want you.... please... please take me. Take me tonight. Keep me if you want, but please, please.... " I could barely breathe as I felt his tongue lick the underside of my earlobe. All I could think of was what it would feel like on my nipples.

"Ohhh MmmmmArrkk.... please... take me.... do whatever you want to me... make me yours.... "

He pulled away slowly and looked me in the eyes. His deep, amazing, hypnotic eyes held mine as he said with a boyish smirk.

"So, K, do you really want to be mine? to be my girlfriend? To be my partner? To be my submissive pet?"

"OHHHHH YESSSS!!" I replied instantly in a lust-filled whisper.

"And so, I have your consent?" He said smirking like it was an inside joke between us.

"FUCK YES!!"

He did not respond. Rather he put his arm around my back, slid his other beneath my knees, and in an impressive display of strength, stood, lifting me into his arms, like a bride being carried over the threshold.

I held his neck as he carried me across the room and through the door to his bedroom. I had visions of him throwing me on the bed and holding me down as he would fuck me. But instead, he set me gently on the edge of the bed and leaned down for another long, passionate kiss.

He knelt before me, and ran his hands over my body before reaching around and unbuttoning my dress. He slid a hand into the back of my dress and I felt his strong, soft hand caress my back between my shoulder blades before he casually, with a flip, unclasped my bra.

He did it with such ease, it made me wonder how many times he had done that. I was not sure if I was turned on more by that thought or just by the fact that his hand was now caressing my back. But, either way, I had an out-of-body moment where I thought "Damn, dude, you are good!"

What ended my out-of-body thoughts was the realization that he had slid my summer dress and bra straps off my shoulders and was back to kissing the nape of my neck, working his way down my shoulders. I threw back my head and moaned gently.

As he slid the dress down farther, uncovering my breasts, the thought that he had seen them before did nothing to lessen the intensity. His mouth followed the dress line as he pulled it down, sending shivers down my spine, right to my pussy.

He placed gentle kisses on the sensitive skin between my breasts. Then he followed that with harsher kissing and licking, only to return to gentle, almost teasing caresses. I grabbed the back of his head and arched my back to try to force him deeper.

He pulled back and moved to caress the bottom of my breasts. Then dove in and licked the areola right below my left nipple. I could barely breathe. I wanted him to lick it, bite it, make it hurt, then soothe it with his tongue. But he kept teasing me with his mouth and his hands. His control and slow methodical teasing kept driving the heat up higher. The men I had been with before had never taken this kind of time to give this kind of erotic attention to my body. Rather than diving in and finishing quickly, he was slowly savoring every moment.

And it drove me wild with lust.

On some level, it deepened my affection for him. He was so strong. He was leading every moment as if it were a dance. But he was so gentle, yet firm. His attention to me was just an extension of treating me like a princess. At the same time, he was clearly taking what he wanted and making me his.

When his tongue grazed my nipple, I thought I was going to cum. Somehow, I didn't. And I was glad for it, since he followed by fulfilling my desire and taking my nipple into his mouth, nibbling, biting, sucking, licking. His hand had found my other nipple and had taken it between his thumb and forefinger, twisting, stroking, caressing.

It was sensory overload. I was a mass of nipples and desire.

Again, I lost track of time. At some point he switched sides, and licked my right nipple while caressing my left.

I was both heartbroken and thrilled when he pulled away. I never wanted it to stop. But the constant sensory stimulation was overwhelming me. And, of course, I knew that he was pulling away for something better.

He stood. He held out his hand for me. I took it with a naughty, burning stare.

He huided me to stand, then helped me step out of my dress. For the first time, I casually noticed that my shoes were gone, likely somewhere in the living room, lost when he had carried me here.

I stepped out of my dress and had intended to slide out of my panties when I noticed that he was unbuttoning his shirt. I pushed his hands away and took over.

With each button, I kissed his hard, muscular chest, working my way down from top to bottom. When I had released his last button and smiled wickedly at the noticeable bulge in his khakis, I licked him back up his chest, ending by sharing a deep, French kiss while I slid his shirt off his shoulders.

While he pulled his arms out of his sleeves, I slid, snake-like, down his body, rubbing my tits against his skin as much as I could. I knelt before him, much the same way I had imagined when I was alone with my dildo. But this was so, so much better.

His trousers were tenting right in front of me. I reached up to unbuckle his belt, making eye contact the whole time. His eyes still amazed me. And I tried to give him the wickedest, wildest, most smoldering look I could. I wanted to be his slut, with no reservations or inhibitions holding me back.

I slid his trousers and underwear down in one movement, never breaking eye contact, but noticing his cock, spring free out of the corner of my eye.

I looked down at it.

My eyes widened.

Can a dick be beautiful? If so, his was the most beautiful one I had ever seen. I was no expert on cocks, but his was amazing. It was easily 2 inches longer than my dildo and much thicker. It was not quite the biggest I'd ever seen -- especially not on porn sites -- but it was much larger than Carl's and a little shorter, but thicker as my one-nigher in Daytona.

My mouth watered. I knew he will fill me completely, which was exactly what I had been craving. I wanted -- no, needed -- it in me. I did not care how or where. I wanted it in my hands, my mouth, my pussy, even my ass. I wanted it anywhere and everywhere.

I looked up at him, my surprise still evident on my face. "Duuuude. If I had known you were packing this, we would have done this a long, long time ago!"

He laughed.

"It just occurred to me." I said, looking concerned and serious, "You asked me for consent, like the gentleman you are. But I never asked you.... so, " I said, feigning innocence, in the sweetest voice I could manage given that I was dripping wet, on my knees and topless, "so, do you really want me to be yours? To be my boyfriend? And my Owner? Do I have your consent to... touch it?"

He smiled his best, most adorable, amazing, little-boy smile, and quietly, gently said, "Fuck yes."

I saw the humor in it, but was too busy wrapping my mouth around his manhood to laugh. I inhaled the head of his penis as if it were my favorite lollipop, which, in a way, it was. I ran my tongue along the bottom and felt the ridge that runs there. I only vaguely noticed that he was circumcised, and, while I have nothing against uncircumcised dicks, I have always preferred them without foreskin. I think it is because I wax for the summer. And when I started, I noticed how, without the pubic hair to mute the sensations, my clit had become noticeably more sensitive. So I assumed it would be the same for guys without foreskin. Perhaps not, but it always made me feel sexier thinking about it that way.

His cock was impressive, but not so big to be overwhelming. While it was longer than my dildo, I thought I could deep throat it and was damn sure I was going to find out!

I pulled his head almost out of my mouth, only to slide it in a little deeper. Then again. Then again, working my way down his shaft.

Did I mention that his cock was amazing? It was. As I inched my lips down his shaft, I kept my tongue pressed against the bottom. I could feel everything -- every vein, every ridge, every hard, sexy, incredible part of this Kendra-pleasing creation. When I pulled back to almost remove him from my mouth, I would push my tongue harder against him and move it so it rubbed his under-ridge. When I did that, I could feel him spasm through his member.

And he was so damn hard! I thought he could pound nails with that thing. I was torn wanting to swallow it, but also listening as my pussy demand his hardness for her own use.

I moved deeper each time, feeling his head press against the back of my throat. At some of the nights out with my girl friends, we discuss blow job technique, and I tried to apply every single thing I had learned. Highest on the list was how to open the back of my throat so I could take him down without gagging.

I finally got him in as far as I could, my nose pressed against his pelvic area. And, I had to fight my gag reflex hard. I pulled back quickly to avoid it, but tried to make it up to him by sucking as hard as I could, as if I was trying to suck his dick off his body, while my hands held the outer skin of his shaft in place.

"I need more practice," I told myself, and vowed to do start a regular routine of blow job training, as if I were training for a track and field meet.

I felt torn. I wanted him to cum in my mouth. I never liked swallowing but all I could think of is how amazing it would feel for his hot sperm to be forced down my throat until it dribbled out my mouth, like a cum whore.

At the same time, I wanted him in my pussy. He was so impossibly hard. He was so wonderfully thick. He was throbbing slightly. He would have stretched me and filled me in the best way. I could imagine him thrusting so deeply, he would bump my cervix. And make me respond as he spasmed in me.

In the end, I just wanted him to cum. I wanted to hear him. I wanted to feel him. I wanted to know it was because of me.

I decided that if he orgasmed while I was on my knees, servicing him, it would feel appropriate and re-enforce his role as my Owner.

I wrapped my lips around his penis and gently sucked to create some friction. I started slowly taking him deeper with each stroke, using my tongue to stimulate the bottom of his cock. Each time, I increased my speed a little, moving faster and faster.

He responded. He started rocking his hips into me. His hands found the back of my head to guide my movements. It had never felt so right.

I heard him moan and felt him start to swell when he surprised me by pulling my hair to pull me completely off his cock. At first, I was confused, then thought perhaps he would cum all over my face and tits. It would degrading, treating me like a target and an object. It was something I had always avoided in the past. Now, I wanted it. I wanted to walk down the street topless with his sperm dripping off me so everyone could see what a cock slut I had become for him.