I'm a firm believer in starting as you mean to go on, so I feel that I should start with clear honesty here. I am not the hero of this story. In truth, I don't think that there are any heroes here; merely villains and their victims. That is the setting that I intend to weave around you, dear reader, in this tale of natural and unnatural satisfactions.
Who am I? I am a student of the human condition. I study people, in all of their most delicious intricacies. Most of all, I study the little things that people deny about themselves. I study the truth, and the denial of it. That's what I'll be talking about, the simple truth that people refuse to believe or admit to.
We are made to re-populate - nothing more. To deny the cravings of the flesh is sacrilege. In this, I am not a student. I am a teacher; an instructor of fresh minds.
Of course, it's the fresh minds that keep it interesting. There's nothing like a new perspective on the same old routine. My students teach me as much as I teach them.
At this point, I should likely give a quick run down of my methods. Lust is the major one of course. You can have all of the tools at your disposal that you wish, but lust is the simplest way to get anything that you want. I make myself look presentable; I change my appearance to adapt to the prey that I seek at the time. I stay clean, keep my teeth white and make sure that there's always a pleasant smell about me. It's important, but that's only one part of it. I have knowledge of the best spots to hunt, practice with those generously charming lines and how to make facial expressions that say everything you could possibly want to say without even opening your mouth. Those are all tied in with the lust though. The psychology gives me a fairly obvious advantage over most, but so do the little hypnosis tricks. I know how to twist a mind, willing and unwilling, to the machinations of my own design. In fact, I quite thoroughly enjoy it. I work very hard on those designs of mine.
And so we come to the actual story that I have to tell. It isn't going to be altogether brief, but I think it's something you might enjoy. There's so much to tell, and so much that even I find difficulty in explaining, but here goes I suppose.
My name is Samuel King. I am a twenty-seven year old, with a quite incredible amount of money due to coming from a particularly rich family. Most of my life, people have referred to me as a spoiled rich brat. I don't much mind people thinking that, but I will point out that, when I want something, I do more than throw money at it in order to get it. I live in a quiet English town called Westford, on track with a much bigger city from which I mainly feed. I am moderately thin, and not all that tall, but I tend to make up for it using subtle trickeries in the clothing and, of course, in presence. I have natural black hair, just long enough to gel in whatever direction I require. My eyes change colour depending on my mood. I also suit sunglasses very well. I have a deeper voice than I hear in my head, but I compensate for it using recordings and a little forethought.
I was twenty-five when I encountered the first woman whom I would consider prey. When I was twenty-two, I worked as a guidance councillor for my most local school. It was an easy enough job, given to me based on my years of experience and my degree in psychology. Obviously, I made no mention of the hypnosis and hypnotherapy that I had been studying and indulging in over the years.
I was a good boy then. People tell me that they find fifteen and sixteen year olds attractive, but I really don't see it. There is such a thing as too easy and impressionable. I like fully-formed minds to play around with. Still, I built on the groundwork that I had laid unintentionally in those years. One of the people who visited me looking for guidance in those days was a sixteen year old named Joanna Dawn, though she preferred to go by Jo. She was a fairly different girl from the usual sort I ended up getting. She had much more of a brain. Jo wanted to go into physics full-time and make a career out of it, and I supplied guidance in that direction. She was blonde, kept her hair short, and was very careful with her popularity. She kept her intelligence as secretive as possible. Jo has a certain style I quite admired.
Three years later, I would encounter her again, and she would remember me. After a year of University, studying Physics to everybody's surprise but mine, Jo wandered back for the summer and encountered me playing Pool in a pub. This was quite the chance meeting, and I certainly didn't recognise her, but she knew me. She pulled her friends along behind her and gave me a big hug hello. It was a new sort of welcome for me. Her hair was still blonde, but she'd made things a little more spiky, layered and with a little outward flick. I liked it.
The challenge afterwards was to get her alone, but even that proved easy enough. The light in her eyes gave me a colourful little hint; she had a crush, and likely it had been there for three years. Her friends smoked. I suspect that she did too, but I didn't, so she stayed in the pub with me. We played Pool. She flirted, lowering her body so that I could see right down her top. She was making it all the more obvious.
It wasn't all that hard to get her inside my home, alone. Honestly, I had expected the encounter to be a much more laborious affair, but my talents were of worth even then. There was no subtle trickery; no long-term ownership investment and no real work involved. She'd had a crush on me for years, and she just needed me to be willing in order for her to fulfil it.
"What's this?" she asked me, wandering through the unmarked bottles in my alcohol cabinet.
"Strong," I told her. This was perfectly true, since, as I have stated, I do make a point of being extremely honest. "You should pour me one too," I added. This provided the perfect offer for her. Jo had already indulged in a fair few drinks, none of which I had bought her myself, despite her providing one for me. The effects were beginning to show, and having her bend over in a short, flared skirt was an enticement that I was thoroughly enjoying. I hadn't caught even the most subtle glimpse of her underwear yet, but I knew that, given time, I would be able to see everything.
"Smells like it's going to hurt," said Jo, scrunching up her nose at the smell of the whiskey in her glass. I joined her at the cabinet, knocked my glass against hers momentarily and we both downed the liquid quickly. I felt a familiar burn, while she coughed in shock of what she'd just ingested.
My next move was a well practiced one, made for use on the sure thing. Jo hadn't taken off her jacket yet, so I slid my hands in underneath the material and onto her shoulders, then slowly moved it gently down her arms and back. I took my time deliberately; she knew my intention and I made sure of it. In so close behind her, I could feel her body pressed against mine and, with my head over her shoulder, the slightest glance downwards let me see into her bra. It was ever so slightly too big for her, which was deceiving because of her quite substantial chest. Her little nipples, rosy and pink, told of her excitement.
"Would you like another drink?" Jo asked me, as soon as her jacket was completely off.
I didn't move from my position, throwing her jacket over a nearby chair instead, then reaching forward for my bottle to refill my glass.
"Do you?" I inquired.
Turning to look me in the eye, Jo suddenly realised just how close we were. Our lips were less than an inch from each other. She glanced down, looking over my slightly parted lips as I examined the remnants of her lipstick; carefully applied before she had started drinking. She bit down a little, then nodded.
Again, I made no effort to move away. We drank again. Jo was swaying ever so slightly now, though her eyes were still focussed on me. I'm not entirely sure who leaned in first, but it made no difference. Her whiskey tinged tongue sought mine, and I gave it to her gladly. A certain fire shot through my blood the moment our parted lips first touched. I wrapped my arms around her loosely, one hand touching her hip and the other laying mostly across her breasts. I didn't want to overwhelm her just yet - for all I knew Jo was still a virgin.
Another few minutes, for the sake of spreading alcohol, would be important for progression. Leading her into the bedroom was far too bold a move also, so I invited her to join me on the couch instead. I lived in a fairly luxurious house, not grand by shared approximations, but for a man alone it was quite the bachelor pad. She joined me and, when she leaned back, I made sure that I had an arm around her back. This relaxed her further.
"You look very comfortable," I whispered soothingly into her ear. "It's almost like you feel at home, welcome and secure."
The words were very carefully chosen, sliding through her state of drunken consciousness. Anybody who's been drunk knows that nothing quite has your full attention at the time. In truth, this leaves a wonderful little gap between your inhibitions that somebody like me is fully capable of taking advantage of. She didn't review or evaluate my words. Instead, she focussed on my voice and how close my lips were to her ear. The warm breath would feel good, and the way her fingers drew tightly together was a testament to that.
I had the temperature up fairly high to encourage her to shed her clothing, but it was being sluggish in coming on, so I decided to warm her blood myself. I leant in a little closer, giving her the opportunity to come for another taste of my tongue, and she took it willingly. I slipped my hand, very gently, onto her bare thigh as she did and started to stroke, teasingly, up and down. Her legs were very smooth. I moved very slowly up to the very hem of her skirt, and down all the way to the top of the black and white striped socks that came to just below her kneecaps. Concentrating on running over every piece of exposed flesh, I worked my way inwards, and her legs parted ever so slightly in response. I'm not sure how much of this was intentional and how much was just natural. I've learned much more since, but at that time I was still a little naive.
Jo's own hands started grasping at the collar of my shirt, desperately trying to pull my body closer to hers. I let this continue while I focussed my attentions elsewhere. My major focus was to distract her using my hands so that my mouth could work out some subtle trickery. The simple fact was that I wasn't sure what Jo wanted from me. If she wasn't a virgin, I could very easily use her body and then move on, but this would be made much more difficult if she was.
I will apologise to you here, dear reader, since I have no intention of ever detailing the methods by which I hypnotise somebody. My scripts are much too efficient to be for sale. I will point out that, while my hands drew her attention to themselves, I whispered my lines into her ear and gently brought her down into a state of trance. It was actually surprisingly easy.
As she laid still beside me, the first person outside of lessons that I had ever hypnotised, I was struck with the sudden inspiration for mischief.
"Are you a virgin, Jo?" I asked her simply, with absolute confidence that she would answer entirely honestly. This is another thing that I love about hypnosis. The world is not twisted by lies.
