The Voodoo That You Do: Part 4 (hypno)
by magister
The front entrance was cool after the heat of the street, and the guards in the foyer didn't even check them for weapons. Either they were stupid, or they truly trusted in Demain's power to protect himself.
Once they were sure there were only the two guards, the agents made a break for it, and ran for different entrances. They wanted to get as far into the house as possible before they were stopped, and there was always the chance they could catch Demain by surprise and take him out before he could stop them.
Jim remembered the way to the dining room they had first entered by, so he headed off down the corridor. One of the guards tried to restrain him, but he knocked him out with a well placed blow to his neck. Frank took off up the main set of stairs, hoping to find a main bedroom, or better yet, an unused area he could set up as a beachhead and launch some sort of counteroffensive.
Jim was the first to reach his target area, only to find it deserted. He made his way to the large chair at the end of the table, hoping to find some controls or wires that had been used to activate the mind control device he stilled hoped was the true weapon. But the chair and table appeared normal, and he couldn't identify any hidden panels, switches or pressure plates.
He heard a sound at the door, but before he could turn, he felt once again the invisible bonds contract around him, and heard the low chant of the witch woman. The hands slowly turned him around, and he was once again face to face with Demain and his ancient mother. In an absurd way of coping, his mind started rationalising how such an old woman (she must have been at least ninety, he thought) could have had a son who looked in his early thirties, about the same age as Jim himself. He knew it was just his way of avoiding thinking about what was going on, but he stored it away as a useful fact anyway.
"I'm sorry I wasn't at the door to greet you. We could have avoided this unsightly game of hide-and-go-seek." Demain walked over to the frozen Jim, and his eyes looked him over like he was a prime piece of meat.
"Ah, well, at least you are here. Your friend will be joining us in a moment, I think." It wasn't long before Frank did saunter in through the open door. If Jim didn't know they were being controlled, it would have seemed that Frank was entering of his own free will. But one look at his hate filled eyes would have convinced anyone that he was there under protest.
"I'm afraid I should have mentioned that in my country, it is polite to dress for the evening meal. However, I assumed that you probably did not bring adequate clothing with you. That is why I asked you here a bit early." Demain was staring at his highly buffed nails, and chatting as if he were the polite but bored host, and the two Federal agents were indeed his welcome guests.
"I have assigned rooms and servants to help you prepare, and laid out some clothes that I feel would be more appropriate. I think a shower and change of clothing might ensure that our friend Frank has no more little gadgets on him that might accidentally cause him harm." Frank was seething, but Jim was trying to stay in control. He was thinking that the old woman could not keep up her chant all evening, and if that was was what holding them captive, then when she stopped he wanted to be ready.
But as if Demain had read his mind, he turned to Jim and smiled.
"My mother does not have to keep up the chanting herself, do you mother? I think you can bind them off now that they know what they are to do." The old lady's chanting took on a strange gibbering sound, and she drew some long lengths of red wool from her capacious sleeves. She wound a thread around each of the dolls she held, and then made a complicated set of gestures over them.
Jim was prepared to jump as soon as she closed her mouth, but when she stopped chanting, the invisible force was as strong as ever. Whatever was being done to them was still in force. Jim could have screamed in frustration.
"You both know what to do. Clean up, relax, enjoy my hospitality, and join me again later this evening for a splendid meal. Just follow my servants upstairs to your rooms. I'm sure you will find everything you need. Or desire." Demain gave out with that same rumbling laugh, and Jim and Frank turned to follow the servants from the room. Jim tried to communicate with Frank as they mounted the stairs, but couldn't move or speak his message. Whatever held him held him extremely close. There was nothing he could do to escape.
Jim was led into a large, ornately furnished room. There was a massive four poster bed that would have filled his entire bedroom in his small city flat. The rugs on the floor, the hand-painted walls, the carved furniture, all screamed wealth and power. Jim was amazed to see such enormous wealth when a few metres outside the street was filled with hundreds of starving peasants.
Rather than worry about economic inequities, though, Jim was more concerned with testing the edges of his bonds. He assumed Frank was in another room and bashing at his restraints like a bull at a gate, but Jim was trying more subtle explorations.
He was able to walk around the room, pick things up (but couldn't keep them in his hands if he thought of them as a weapon of any sort). He tried walking toward the door, but he couldn't move. He thought of moving toward the bed, and it was like nothing at all was stopping him. He was able to pull the sheets off the bed, but as soon as he thought of making them into a rope to climb through the window, his hands let go, and he found that he couldn't touch them again until he thought of them simply as 'sheets'. The magic seemed almost intelligent, the way it monitored his ideas.
The servant had entered what Jim assumed to be some sort of en suite, but now returned. He didn't comment on the ruffled bedclothes, and kept his eyes slightly averted from Jim's.
"I am running your bath now, sir. If you will follow me, I shall begin to prepare you." The polite request turned into an order for the invisible threads that held Jim prisoner, and guided him toward the other room. Jim was not too worried about having a bath (the shower at the hotel had been atrocious, and he still felt covered in yesterday's sweat). And a soak would give him time to think about his next move, as well as scout out the bathroom for potential weaponry.
The bathroom was as ornate as the bedroom. Everything was gilt and white marble. There were large mirrors and piles of soft towels. Jim could see by his reflection how scruffy he looked compared the immaculate surroundings. The servant moved up behind him, and started helping him off with his clothes. Jim put out a hand to stop him.
"I think I can do this part by myself. Thanks for the offer though." However, the servant just stopped and took a formal stance in front of Jim.
"The Master wishes that I serve you fully. You must let me do as the Master commands." The statement was enough to bring the invisible hands back to the fore, and Jim found that he could no longer resist the servant's attentions. Jim realised that the 'spell' was activated by certain commands, but within those instructions, there was a lot of leeway. He had been able to stop the young man easily enough, until he made that statement about his master.
Jim thought if he did nothing else to resist the unwanted valet, then there would be no more statements, and thus no more limitations. He thus surrendered to the ministrations of the servant, and decided that it wasn't too difficult to just stand there and be undressed. He did get a bit upset when the valet finished and walked off with his clothes. Jim just stood there naked, but when he found he could still not move, he realised that the initial process wasn't yet over.
The young servant returned, and went to the bench and started looking through the brightly coloured jars that littered it's surface. Jim looked closely at him, trying to figure out if he was just a normal houseboy or someone being controlled as he was. He was definitely a native, with a darker, olive skin that made him look suntanned. He was maybe in his late teens or early twenties - it was hard to tell. He was dressed in a white nehru jacket and slacks, with simple gold trim around the edges. His shoes were canvas slippers that Jim supposed were designed to keep the sound of the servant's walking around to a minimum.
The valet turned back to Jim, and brought over three different bottles.
"These must be applied. Please stand still that I may not hurt you with these." That made Jim wince. He wondered what was in the bottles that could be so painful, and he gritted his teeth in anticipation.
The first jar contained some ointment that the servant began spreading all over his exposed body. Jim had never been touched in certain places by anyone but a qualified doctor, and he found it uncomfortable having some stranger coat his groin and ass with cream. He wasn't aroused by the attention, just disconcerted.
The man spread the ointment over Jim's chest, under his arms, along his back - even around his neck and chin. To Jim, it felt like he imagined a woman's face mask might feel. Whatever it was, he could now start to feel it tingle and contract. If he had not been held tight by the invisible energy, he would have rushed over to the shower and hosed himself off. However, all he could do was stand there and endure it.
The servant went over and turned off the water that had no mostly filled a white porcelain tub. He picked up other jars near the bath and dropped oils into the steaming water. Soon the room was filled with a fresh, musky scent that Jim found quite pleasing. Like many men, he just put after shave and deodorant on because that's what the commercials on TV told him he should do. But now, he realised that a smell could be quite masculine.
"Do I get in there now and wash this off?" asked Jim, trying to keep the nervous feeling that his skin was being eaten away out of his voice.
"No, sir, not yet. I must finish what the Master has commanded. He came over and started peeling the mask off Jim's body. The ointment had taken on a rubbery consistency, and Jim felt like he was actually having an outer layer of skin peeled off. He tried not to watch, so he instead looked up at the ceiling.
"So, do you have a name, or doesn't your 'Master' allow that?"
"My name is Sebastian, sir."
"Sebastian. Can I ask what it is that you are actually doing to me?"
"Of course, sir." Jim waited for him to continue, but then he realised that he must have taken the words literally.
"What is it that you are doing to me, Sebastian?"
"The ointment is to clear the skin, sir. To make it smooth and clean." Sebastian ran his hand over an exposed portion of Jim's body, and Jim felt the smoothness of the contact. Too smooth.
"I take it you're pulling off all the hair as well?"
"Yes, sir. Of course."
"Right. Just asking." Jim didn't particularly want to look down from the ceiling, now that he knew his groin was going to be looking back from the mirror sans hair.
Sebastian finished removing the outer layer, and took the pile to a waste chute installed in one wall. Then he returned and began rubbing the ointment from the second jar into his skin. This time, it covered his entire body, even rubbed through his hair and into his scalp.
"Ah, this isn't going to make me bald on top as well, is it?"
"No, sir. This one moisturises and toughens the skin after being cleansed." Sebastian was very clear and patient - the perfect servant. Jim had a feeling that the boy was laughing at him for not knowing the basics of good grooming, but Jim didn't want to offend someone who might be the only person he could question in the whole building.
While Sebastian was waiting for the cream to do its work, Jim tried to ply him with questions. However, Sebastian stated firmly that he was not in a position to discuss anything except Jim's bodily needs. So much for getting a detailed description of the mansions' layout and security devices.
Sebastian used paper towels to remove what little of the cream had not been soaked in by the denuded skin, and then opened the third jar. This contained a darker cream, and once again it was applied all over Jim's body, from his toes to his hair. Jim felt uncomfortable having the cream rubbed into his ears, between his buttock cheeks and over his eyelids, but there was still nothing he could do.
"Please, sir, could you now enter the bath?"
Relieved to once again be able to move, Jim quickly stepped toward the tub. The water was still hot, but just enough to make his skin tingle. The brown ointment didn't seem to be coming off in the water, and soon Jim was relaxing in the water.
If you can't beat them, join them, he thought, as the heat and the oil started to ease some of the tension that had built up over the past - what? Twenty-four, thirty hours at the most. He found it hard to believe that just yesterday morning they had boarded a flight from the States, and now here he was caught in a prison fancier than the best Hyatt had to offer.
Thinking of Frank, Jim wondered whether he was getting the same treatment. Knowing Frank, he would probably find it infuriating to be tended by a man. That brought up the blow job that Jim had been forced to give Frank the night before, and the shock of the memory brought Jim back with a thump.
The reality was, this wasn't a hotel, and he should really be thinking about escape, or at least ways to take out their target, Demain. Jim started looking around the room for something that he could use as a weapon. As long as he didn't think of it as dangerous until he got close enough to Demain, or the mother, for that matter, he might be able to use it before the 'spell' made him drop it.
Sebastian came back into the bathroom, and asked Jim if he was ready to leave his bath. Jim didn't particularly want to leave the respite of the warm water, but he also didn't want another 'command' issued. So, he stood up, and Sebastian came to meet him with a towel.
Jim just stood there while Sebastian buffed him all over with the towel. When one was wet, he replaced it with another. Jim didn't know if his skin tingled from the water or the creams, but his skin felt so alive that the action of the towels made him aroused. His cock, quiescent in the water, now started to grow, and Jim became quite embarrassed.
At first, Sebastian wiped the erection as if it were simply another part of Jim's anatomy, like his fingers or toes. But then he kneeled down, and began to use his mouth and tongue to caress Jim's member.
"Hey, hang on ..." Jim had initially been startled, but now that he saw what the boy was doing, he quickly wanted to put a halt to it. The problem was, what if the boy told him it was part of the service? Then the invisible energy would enforce the the command. Jim tried thinking hard of baseball scores, and the danger of his predicament. His cock began to deflate.
"Do you not wish me to please you at this moment?" Sebastian spoke the words into Jim's groin, seeming not to care whether the answer was 'yes' or 'no'.
"No, not at the moment. Maybe later, huh?"
"Of course, sir." Jim breathed out a sigh of relief. Then he hoped Frank had enough sense to keep his mouth shut, or the man would have his cock serviced by a guy twice in less than twelve hours. The perverse thought made Jim smile.
"Please, sir, I must now dress you."
Jim returned his thoughts to the present, and he got ready to leave. That was when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. If the control hadn't kept him moving, he would have just stood and stared. He had been almost prepared for the sight of his body completely stripped of hair from the neck down, but he wasn't prepared for what he did see.
The dark ointment had been absorbed into his skin just as the moisturising cream had been, and now his body was brown from head to toe. He looked like he had been sunbathing naked for at least a few weeks. The darker skin seemed smooth, there were no smear marks or lighter patches that normally come with fake tans. More than that, the ointment had also left his hair darker. Although his brown hair always looked darker when wet, Jim could see that it was now practically black.
He wished he could stay longer in front of the mirror and 'acclimatise' himself to his new reflection, but Sebastian led him back into the bedroom. The bed had been remade while Jim was soaking, and now there were clean clothes laid out for him. Jim wondered if he were to be dressed as well as undressed by Sebastian, and then guessed it was to be expected.
However, what he didn't expect as Sebastian to turn around holding what could only be a corset.
"Hang, on, there's no way I'm wearing that." Jim spoke without thinking, and immediately regretted it, as he knew Sebastian would now command him to put it on, and Jim would have no choice but to comply.
"The Master suggested that your posture was not appropriate, and that I was to help you learn to be more ... upright." Jim had not thought of his posture as bad, but then he was used to being around people who habitually slouched. When he thought about it, part of why Demain looked so tall was that he held his chest up and out, arrogant but intimidating.
Sebastian wrapped the corset around Jim's waist, and began to pull it tight. Jim felt his spine being pushed upward, and felt his shoulders pulling back to compensate. The feeling was firm, and not too uncomfortable. He knew it would be awkward bending and moving, but he would have to adapt. If there was a chance to escape, he didn't want to miss it because of some girdle.
Sebastian then proceeded to dress him. First, a large, white cotton shirt that was frilled around the neck, collar and cuffs. It looked like a pirate shirt, and went on over Jim's head.
Then he stepped into a pair of black pants, but was surprised when Sebastian pulled them up to his hips. There was no front fly - no front opening at all. The pants zipped up the side, and Jim saw there were no pockets. The crotch had been reinforced with something like stretch material, and Sebastian then started rearranging Jim's cock and balls until they stood out in a large soft mound. With the corset making him stand straight, his hips pushed slightly forward, and Jim felt that he was thrusting his cock out there for everyone to see.
As Sebastian started stroking Jim's groin, in order to remove any wrinkles so the mound would be smooth, Jim tried desperately not to respond. An erection would be obvious to anyone looking in his general direction, and the pants were so tight that he was afraid once the blood enlarged it, it would stay enlarged.
Next came some tooled leather black boots with heels that made Jim feel precarious. They were not overly tall, but on someone not used to wearing even a cowboy boot, they made Jim feel like he was going to fall forward. The effort of leaning slightly backward to compensate made his pouch stick out even more.
Next came a cummerbund/sash that wrapped around his middle, and added a streak of colour to the otherwise black and white outfit. Jim truly felt like a pirate, and when Sebastian asked him to sit, he was only too happy. It would make him less likely to fall, and he could cross his legs so that his groin wasn't showing.
Sebastian had him ease back, and brought out some shaving gear in order to finish removing the hair that the ointment hadn't covered. That was just his upper lip and below his sideburns, so the process didn't take long.
Then Sebastian brought out another bottle - this time for Jim's hair. He plastered the hair down on Jim's head, until it felt as tight and firm as the corset. When everything was finished, Jim stood up and Sebastian brought him over to a full-length mirror. Jim couldn't believe the transformation.
The clothes, the hair, the dark skin, all made him look like a Latino toreador. The corset pushed his shoulders back and his chest out, keeping his stomach pushed in and high. The bulge at his groin was quite prominent, and the small extra height of the heels made him feel extremely tall. Under any other circumstances, Jim might have enjoyed the image that was reflected back to him. But he had never worried too much about his looks in the first place, and he felt like he was simply wearing a costume before going off to a fancy dress ball.
Sebastian suggested that Jim walk around and get used to the new posture and shoes, which did upset his balance somewhat. When he would've have stopped, feeling confident enough, Sebastian 'suggested' that they may as well continue until it was time to go downstairs for the evening, so Jim was compelled by the invisible hands to parade backward and forward until he truly was at ease in the outfit and the shoes.
His back was aching, his toes felt pinched, but from the outside it wouldn't show. He tried not to feel aroused, but every time he moved his legs, the tight material enclosing his prominent cock would move and rub, making him feel like someone was continually caressing him. He just hoped that once they were sitting down to the meal, he wouldn't have to move again until he was either running for the door or lunging for Demain's neck.
Then it was time to go. Sebastian led Jim out of the door onto the upper landing, where they met up with Frank and his valet. If Jim had trouble accepting his own transformation, he could only stare in disbelief at what he now saw.