The Call-Boy

Disclaimer: This story is written for the enjoyment of consenting adults. If you are under the legal age for your community, you must quit this page NOW! If you object to subject matter concerning either erotic mind control or male/male sex, this isn’t for you, so rather than continuing and then taking offense, just leave. The rest of you, enjoy, and if you feel inspired, please write one of your own and post it. I like to read as well as write.

“Hello, Nicholas?” The plummy, carefully modulated voice of Nick’s boss Cherry Sundae, transvestite owner of the exclusive escort agency Madame Cherry’s, was unmistakable on the phone, even over the loud high-energy music of his workout mix.

“Yeah, me. What’s up, Cherry?”

“My blood pressure if you don’t turn down that awful noise, dear boy! I can’t hear myself think!”

Nick obligingly hit the pause button on his remote. “Better?”

“Much, darling. Are you available tomorrow evening? I want to schedule you for a session. The client is paying a substantial extra fee for you specifically, and, of course, for your particular talents. He’s requesting your services at seven and you’ll be staying for the rest of the night.”

Since Nick was mainly gay-for-pay, and his success as a male escort came from his exceptional good looks, not his versatility (he refused to do water sports, scat, S&M, or, for that matter, in most cases even to bottom except orally), he figured this could only mean some elaborate role-playing, which, as an imaginative and talented (in his own opinion, anyway) actor, could indeed be considered a specialty of his. He quickly checked his calendar. “Yeah, I’m free. What does he want? And do I need particular clothes?”

“Oh, it’s just too amusing!” Cherry gushed. “The man’s a hypno-fetishist! He wants you pretend to let him hypnotize you and then, of course, to pretend to obey him like a mindless robot while he gets his jollies. But not to worry, dear, I’ve already given him the menu of what you will and won’t do. Anyway, hypnosis is just silly nonsense, so it will really be no different from any of your other appointments. This isn’t costume drama, so your usual college-boy drag will be fine, but you might want to leave some beard stubble when you shave tomorrow morning. He really liked the bad-boy picture on your page in my web-site (you know the one I mean). You’re to show up at his house as a new client who wants to try hypnosis to help him kick his smoking habit.” Cherry gave Nick the address in the posh ______ Heights subdivision and then, with an airy “Kisses, dear boy,” he hung up.

The following morning Nick rose on the late side. He’d purposely slept in so as to be well-rested and looking his best. For new clients he always tried to make as good an impression as possible so they’d want to hire him again. He also wanted to be sure he was wide-awake and alert for this appointment. Even though he was pretty much in agreement with Cherry that hypnotism was bogus, just in case he was mistaken, Nick intended to take no chances of accidentally going into trance for real just from being sleepy already!

He checked himself carefully in the mirror and was pleased with what he saw. His green, long-lashed eyes were clear and sparkling, his coal-black hair was clean and sexy, with just enough product in it to keep it in place, but not so much as to make it uninviting to touch, and, of course, his tight, gym-toned body was the stuff of anyone’s wet dream. He had chosen a khaki-colored t-shirt and skinny jeans. The shirt had a little spandex in the weave to make sure it fitted well and the jeans showed off his assets to good advantage. But nothing was extreme. Nick figured that, if this guy wanted to pretend hypnotize him for sex, then part of his role-play fantasy was probably the illusion of ‘mind-raping’ an otherwise unavailable or unwilling partner. To that end, Nick wanted to look smoking hot, but he didn’t actually want to look like he was for sale. And this look nailed it. The only thing not quite perfect in his estimation was the razor stubble. He’d already shaved closely the previous day before Cherry had called and, though his beard was very dark, it didn’t grow all that fast and there wasn’t much showing yet. He hoped that by two o’clock the shadow would have darkened enough to satisfy the client.

Just a few minutes before the hour, Nick pulled up at the specified address. He checked himself out in the car mirror one last time to make sure that nothing needed adjusting. Everything was perfect. Nick realized he was even looking forward to this just a little bit. The house was very impressive, so the John must have some serious money, which usually meant a serious tip as well (always a good thing as far as Nick was concerned). The hypnotism scenario itself sounded like it would be a kick (he could just see himself droning, “Yes, master,” in the best B-movie fashion as he pretended to sleepwalk his way through the sex). And there was even some chance that the guy might not be unattractive. The ones who were into the more outlandish sorts of fantasy play often hired an escort, not because they were too unappealing to get a legitimate date, but because they couldn’t find someone they liked who was willing to play along with their particular kink. Nick had a gift for being able to get hard and stay hard even for men he didn’t fancy (an extremely necessary job-skill for any escort, but especially for a bi-sexual one who, truth be told, mostly preferred women anyway!), but that didn’t mean he was oblivious to the difference. One more moment to get into character and then Nick marched up the long, elegant walkway to the door and rang the bell.

The man who opened the door exceeded his hopes and then some; not male-model gorgeous, but still definitely hot. He was obviously older than Nick’s 24 years, but not by all that much (he was maybe 35 at most), with a body, clad in expensive casual clothes, that was far from out of shape, and a pleasantly attractive face. His neat dark hair was full and meticulously styled, obviously the work of some upscale men’s salon. His blue eyes, in particular, were so extraordinary that, for a moment, Nick almost forgot why he was there, and stood staring at them in admiration.

“Ah, you must be Nicholas Procter, and right on time, too. I appreciate that very much. I finished with my last patient a little early, but I do like to avoid getting behind. I’m Matt Hardwick.” He offered his hand.

Nick quickly snapped out of his gawk and shook hands with the hypnotist. “Please call me Nick, Dr. Hardwick. You’re much younger than I expected.” He added, allowing his expression and tone to imply “and much cooler”.

Matt grinned. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m afraid I’m already past the big three-o. And I’m a certified hypnotist, not an MD, so you can just call me Matt. Come in and we’ll get started.”

He led Nick through a number of beautifully furnished rooms to a paneled library/study with a desk, several leather-upholstered chairs and a therapy couch. He invited him to be seated in one of the chairs and took another for himself. “Now, your doctor referred you to me to help you stop smoking, correct?”

“That’s right,” said non-smoker Nick, quickly joining the game. “I’m up to two and a half packs a day. My throat always seems to be scratchy, I don’t have any wind endurance, and I’m sick of watching so much of my money literally go up in smoke. And besides, Taylor hates the smell, so it’s putting a real strain on my home life.” Nick had deliberately chosen a name for his fictitious live-in partner that could refer to either a boy- or girlfriend depending on whether Matt preferred to imagine his playmate as gay or as straight. “I sure hope hypnotism can do the trick, because I’ve tried everything else.”

“Well, if you’re really sincere about wanting to quit, or at least,” he chuckled, “sincere about wanting to pour some oil on the troubled waters of your relationship, then hypnosis is definitely your tool of choice. Have you ever been hypnotized before, Nick?”

“No,” Nick answered. “I’ve seen a couple of shows, at my high school after-grad party and at college during the orientation week, and then there’s the stuff you see in movies and on TV, but I’ve never tried it myself. The guys in the shows ended up doing some pretty dumb things. You’re not going to make me do something weird are you?” He contrived to sound uneasy and yet a little curious too. Nick could see that Matt was showing some wood in his tailored khakis, so he guessed he was hitting the right note in his portrayal.

“No barking like a dog, or imitating a pop-star, I promise.” Matt smiled. “I think you’ll find you enjoy the whole process quite a bit – most people do. I recommend that you move to the couch,” he continued, pointing to the therapy divan. “When you begin to relax, it’s going to give you better support. But if the ‘psychiatrist’s couch’ vibe bothers you, it’s all right for you to stay where you are. The most important thing is that you be comfortable.”

Nick obediently walked over to the couch. He stretched luxuriously, deliberately flexing his arms up and out, causing his t-shirt to ride up ever so slightly and expose a scant inch of tanned, taut stomach. Through lowered eyelashes he could see Matt’s gaze lock hungrily onto the display. Then he lay down and looked up at the hypnotist expectantly. “What do I do now?”

After slightly adjusting Nick’s position on the couch (and, not coincidentally, reinforcing the behavior pattern of accepting instructions), Matt said, “Close your eyes. Now, take a deep breath and then let it out slowly… that’s right… and do it again… good… and again…” Nick still had no intention of actually allowing himself to be hypnotized, but playing his role did require that he pretend to follow the instructions, and so after just a few moments he was beginning to feel just a tiny bit light-headed from all those deep breaths. “Keep breathing that way… in… and out… in… and out. Next, I want you to relax all of your muscles completely. Start with your feet… feeling your toes relax… any tension just flowing out of them… the balls of your feet… relaxed… comfortable… the arches… more and more relaxed as you continue to listen and breathe so easily and deeply… your heels… heavy, comfortable… your ankles…” Matt’s voice had taken on a silky, mesmerizing cadence, its soft sound almost fading into the quiet drone of the air-conditioning so that Nick had to focus intently to avoid missing some instruction that he would be expected to appear to follow, and as a result, he quickly lost awareness of anything but that suave seductive murmur. Without realizing it, he was already well on his way to hypnotic trance for real. The hypnotist continued to talk relaxation, taking Nick on a tour of his own body, muscle by muscle, until he lay on the soft leather of the couch as though he’d melted onto it, so loose and comfortably heavy that he wondered if he could even move. Somehow, though, he felt so good that he wasn’t much inclined to try.

From the outside, Matt could see his subject’s face taking on the waxy, expressionless caste that is one of the hallmarks of the onset of trance. He smiled in triumph. This wasn’t the first time Matt had played this game, and it didn’t really matter whether the boy was actually cooperating with the process, or whether he thought he was just play-acting, the end result would be the same; his mind and will would soon be under Matt’s complete control. “You’re doing so very well, Nick… just breathing and relaxing… and it feels so good, so very, very good… you just want to continue to breathe and relax and listen to my voice… so you can feel better and better… the more you listen and follow my instructions the better you feel… Now, without opening your eyes, I want you to look upwards at a spot in the center your forehead, and I want you to imagine a soft, white light glowing there.” He could see the movement under Nick’s closed eyelids as the eyes shifted. “That’s right… Focus on that beautiful soft light… it’s so-o-o beautiful… and so peaceful… and you can’t imagine ever wanting to look away from it.”

“Beautiful…” Nick sighed sleepily, unaware that he’d even spoken.

The hypnotist continued, “That soft light is growing and expanding… it fills your vision… so beautiful… so wonderful you can’t think of anything else… You’re no longer aware of anything but that beautiful light and my voice… you probably won’t even notice when your right hand begins to feel so light that it floats right up into the air… you won’t notice that you’re falling fast asleep…”

Right on cue, Nick’s hand began to float up from its place at his side, and as the hypnotist continued to weave his spell, it rose higher and higher until it waved lazily in the air above the motionless young man like a balloon on a string.

“…And now you are fast asleep… so fast asleep that you can no longer form thoughts… it’s too hard to think… all you want to do, all you can do is listen to my voice and absorb my words… my words become your thoughts… they fill your sleepy, empty mind… whatever I tell you is absolute and undeniable… you believe whatever I say… you do whatever I tell you instantly without questioning it… You are now in a deep state of hypnosis, Nick, but when I touch your floating hand, it will fall back to your side and you will instantly be a hundred times deeper than you are now. Do you understand?” Nick nodded listlessly. Matt touched the back of Nick’s hand and it fell limply back to the couch. “Excellent,” the hypnotist continued. “You are completely under my control. You continue to go deeper and deeper with every breath, with every beat of your heart. Tell me your full name and your personal phone number.” Matt knew that hustlers and escorts almost never use their real names or give out private phone numbers, so this was a good litmus test of just how thoroughly Nick’s will had been co-opted.

“Nicholas Loren Phillips, _ _ _ - _ _ _ - _ _ _ _.”

“Phillips, not Proctor? Very good, Nick. You will always tell me the absolute truth… you cannot lie. You are a deeply hypnotized boy, and hypnotized boys do as they are told. Hypnotized boys obey their masters, and I am your master. Who am I, Nick?”

“My master,” came Nick’s soft, sleepy response. There was no hint of resistance.

“And what are you, Nick?”

“I’m a hypnotized boy.”

“And what do you do, hypnotized boy?”

“I obey my master.”

“That’s right, Nick. You’re a hypnotized boy and you obey. Repeat that.”

“I’m a hypnotized boy and I obey.”


“I’m a hypnotized boy and I obey.”

“Keep saying it over and over until I tell you to stop, and each time, feel it become even more irresistibly true.”

“I’m a hypnotized boy and I obey… I’m a hypnotized boy and I obey…” As he chanted the phrase, Nick’s voice was growing softer and dreamier by the moment.

Matt instructed him to open his eyes and then drew the unresisting young man to his feet and led him back to sit in the chair he’d originally occupied, still mindlessly droning his new mantra. The hypnotist silenced him and then went to work in earnest with an extensive battery of deepening routines along with highly sophisticated neurolinguistic programming. (Matt hadn’t exactly lied when he said he wasn’t an MD. But he was a PhD. Several times over, as a matter of fact, having been a bona fide child prodigy who had earned the first degree, in psychology, by the time he was seventeen. And he worked as a black-ops interrogator/brainwasher for agencies so clandestine that even the CIA didn’t know much about them. In addition to the large fees they paid him for his services, these agencies also shielded his ‘hobby’ from the scrutiny it might otherwise have attracted.)

At last, satisfied that Nick’s personality had been completely recast into the will-less robot slave persona Matt intended him to retain for as long as it suited him, the hypnotist sat back to admire his new toy now sitting motionless and blank in the chair. Damn, but he was good-looking! And all the more-so now that his facial muscles were so completely relaxed. Matt was really going to enjoy this. The hypnotist smirked as he thought of the careful list of acceptable and not-acceptable acts he’d been given by Madam Cherry. Well, young Nick was certainly going to be expanding his repertoire now! His ability to refuse no longer existed.

“Stand up, Nick,” Matt ordered.

As if sleepwalking Nick rose to his feet and then just stood. He was so palpably lacking any further intention that he could easily have been something inanimate, a statue or a clothes dummy. The hypnotist walked around him, taking in the view from all angles. He ran his hands over the motionless, unprotesting boy, exploring the shapes and textures of his beautiful body, the soft skin of Nick’s throat, the tender plumpness of his lips, the firm, hard muscles of his chest and back,. He fondled Nick’s ample yet still soft basket and then squeezed the cheeks of his butt through the close-fitting denim. Matt felt his cock harden with interest; oh, yes, at the very least Nick was going to be breaking his rule against bottoming!

Matt began to undress the young man. It seemed, to him, a little like playing with a plastic action figure, or undressing a particularly cooperative child for bath-time, although, of course, much more fun than either. Nick didn’t undertake any of the tasks himself, since the hypnotist hadn’t told him to, but he accommodated whatever was required, raising, lowering, bending or straightening his arms to allow the t-shirt to be pulled off, and as Matt dealt with his shoes and socks, and then his jeans and briefs, lifting one foot or the other as needed, but always returning to his motionless stance afterwards. When the boy was completely naked, Matt stepped back and again surveyed his catch. As he had already guessed, the young hustler had plenty of meat between his legs, even when it wasn’t erect. And his sculpted chest, broad shoulders, narrow waist and firm little ass were even more perfectly formed than the hypnotist had anticipated from their clad contours. But the real marvel, in Matt’s opinion, was Nick’s absolutely flawless skin. The hypnotist was something of a skin-freak. He loved expanses of unblemished, creamy flesh (tanned or pale, white, gold, or brown, it didn’t matter), and this lad was so perfectly pristine that he might truly have been as artful and artificial a construct as the nude statue his posture was currently suggesting. At the tempting sight, Matt abandoned self-restraint and literally attacked with hands, lips and tongue every inch of that beautiful smooth skin. Massaging, nuzzling and licking he savored the taste and smell (part healthy, clean young male, and part the lingering subtle scents of high-quality men’s toiletries from Nick’s personal grooming). He found it so delicious that it was all he could do to keep himself from actually taking a bite.

Nick simply stood and let the hypnotist molest him in whatever fashion, as blankly indifferent as a tailor’s dummy. He was so deep in trance that, despite all the stimulation, he wasn’t even getting an erection, not that this troubled Matt, who knew that just a word or two from him and Nick would be as ready for action as a bull at the stud. The hypnotist, on the other hand, was definitely rock-hard, so much so that his pants were feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He decided to remedy that. “Undress me, Nick… and make it sexy.”

Although in this case, he had an extra agenda, one of the reasons in general that Matt hired hustlers for his amusements was that, in addition to their being, by definition, already primed to provide sex, they also came with a well-practiced sexual skill set already in place. (The hypnotist’s mastery of his art was such that he was more than a match for the most reticent, up-tight, or even hostile young man, but it saved a lot of time and effort if he didn’t need to chip away at too many ingrained personal taboos, and, as much fun as it might be for Matt to mind-fuck some inexperienced or straight young stud into sucking his first cock or giving up his ass-cherry, he usually found that training him to do it properly was somewhat tedious.) Nick proved to be no exception to that rule. His expression still deliciously vacant, he set about obeying the hypnotic command with the same imagination and expertise he would have brought to the task had he been awake and doing it of his own free will. First, he tugged Matt’s shirt free of his trousers, but instead of beginning to undo the buttons, he just used the front of the shirt to pull Matt in to a deep kiss, one so intense that it left the hypnotist dizzy and gasping for breath. Only after thoroughly exploring Matt’s mouth with his tongue did Nick begin to unbutton the shirt. As each button was popped open, he covered the newly exposed portion of the hypnotist’s hairy chest with soft, feather-light touches, kisses, and occasionally gentle, teasing nips. When the shirt finally hung all the way open Nick slid his hands around under it to caress the smoother skin of Matt’s back. He then sank to his knees, pulling the hypnotist’s slim waist to his lips and began to lick and suck Matt’s navel. By this point the hypnotist, squirming with ticklishness and lust, was so hard that he felt at this rate his cock would tear a hole in his khakis long before Nick got around to relieving him of them.

The hypnotized call-boy, completely oblivious of the chaos he was creating, merely continued with the undressing process. He eased the shirt off Matt’s shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Then, still avoiding Matt’s increasingly strained fly, he bent and, tapping the hypnotist’s feet, indicated that the shoes and socks were to come off next. Since Matt was wearing loafers, it took almost no time for Nick to bare his feet. Tossing the shoes and socks aside, he hunkered down even lower and began to kiss and lick Matt’s feet, rubbing against them with his stubbly chin like a dog or cat begging to be petted.Matt had never felt anything quite like it. The ridiculously erotic combination of scratchy, tickly whisker-scruff, soft lips, and smooth moist tongue, unfamiliar on the sensitive skin of his feet and ankles, had him so overwhelmed that he was forced to resort to one of his own self-hypnotic fail-safes in order to avoid creaming in his shorts right then and there.

Half gasping, half laughing, he cried, “Nick, for God’s sake leave my feet alone for now and get my pants off!”

Nick immediately left off what he was doing and straightened back up, his face now level with the increasingly obvious wet spot on Matt’s trouser front. With unhurried concentration he undid the hypnotist’s belt, unbuttoned the trouser top and then pulled down the zipper. The fine gabardine immediately slid down Matt’s legs and pooled around his ankles, leaving him naked except for his rust-colored designer briefs.Then, after gently kissing the inside face of the hypnotist’s upper thigh, just below ball-level, Nick got the hem of the briefs in his teeth and slowly, slowly, slo-o-owly drew them down. As soon as the waistband cleared Matt’s cock-head, his dick shot out of its confinement as if spring-loaded. The hypnotist was dripping pre-cum all over, so there were soon sticky tracks on Nick’s face and then, as he drew the shorts lower and lower, in his hair. The normally fastidious escort would have been more than a bit put off by that (and, had he been under his own control, very careful in his approach to avoid the possibility of it happening in the first place), but his entranced awareness didn’t even register it now as he continued to tug Matt’s underwear down around his ankles.

As soon as he was able, Matt freed his feet from the confining tangle of clothes. But before he could utter another word, Nick had pounced on his cock and was sucking it like, well, like the professional he was. All of the old jokey lines - sucking the chrome off a bumper, sucking a V-8 engine out through the tailpipe - seemed tailor-made for describing Nick’s oral gifts. Matt was grateful that he’d already invoked his own brand of climax control, for he was certain it would otherwise have been ‘game over’ right that instant.

Realizing that, hypnosis or no, if he didn’t take charge of the pacing he’d lose control of himself and the situation altogether, Matt, somewhat forcibly, withdrew from Nick’s talented mouth. “Stand up,” he commanded, and as Nick instantly obeyed, the hypnotist (mostly to give himself time to think) grabbed the young man and began to kiss him. This time it was Matt’s tongue that was doing the tonsil-mining. The hypnotist’s hands roamed freely over Nick’s compliant body finally settling on his ass, and that made up Matt’s mind. It was time for Nick to be indoctrinated in the pleasures and practice of bottoming.

“Your dick’s getting hard, Nick. You’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your life, but you won’t be able to cum until I tell you to.” For a moment the hypnotized boy looked vaguely confused, but then he gasped. His cock sprang to rigid attention, his head fell back, his mouth open in a soundless “Oh” as arousal roared through his body. Matt continued, “From now on everything I do or ask you to do will be the best sex you’ve ever had. You’re convinced I’m the best lover you’ve ever been with. You’ll do anything for the pleasure I give you, won’t you, boy.”

Oh, yeah!” Nick groaned with helpless lust. His body shivered and squirmed under Matt’s continuing caresses, and his cock, like the hypnotist’s, became moist with excitement.

“Follow me.” Matt led his spellbound plaything out of the study and up the stairs to the master bedroom.

Once there, first things first. Madame Cherry’s had a very good reputation (at least among those who knew of and patronized such services) for only providing safe, clean, healthy escorts, and, as far as appearances went, Nick was in perfect physical condition, but Matt wasn’t willing to bet his life on that. Since the trance nullified the escort’s own judgment, responsibility, and even sense of self-preservation, the hypnotist took it upon himself to make sure they were supplied with protection before proceeding any further. He handed condoms and lube to Nick and ordered him to prepare them both. The young man suited himself up with professional efficiency, and then, kneeling, smoothed Matt’s condom onto his twitching cock with his lips only. Even as the hypnotist was moaning with pleasure at the sensation, he found his mind struck by the oddest random thought. Was there, he wondered, some sort of training school for prostitutes? They all seemed to know that particular trick and use it! Then he answered himself, “Probably just word of mouth!” and nearly burst out laughing at the unintended pun.

Regaining control of himself, the hypnotist asked (even though he already knew the answer), “Do you want me to fuck you, Nick?”

“No,” the boy answered with hypnotized honesty.

“When was the last time you bottomed?”

“Last year, with ____ ____ (Nick named a very well-known figure from the theater world). He paid Cherry an extra $3000 on top of my regular fee, and got me an audition for a national television commercial.”

“Well, Nick, when I count from ten down to one and snap my fingers you’re going to forget that you don’t like to be fucked. It will be erased from your mind completely and you’ll never remember it again. You’ll know that you love to have a cock up your ass. And since you also know that whatever I want to do with you will be the best sex you can imagine, you’re so hot for me you’ll beg for it. Ten, nine… going deeper, eight… deeper…any bad experiences with anal sex fading from your mind… fading…, seven, six… only remembering the pleasure…, five… so much pleasure… you love cock…, four … forgetting everything else…, three… deeper… you love cock, two… deeper… you love to be fucked… no other memory…, and… one.” Matt snapped his fingers and Nick’s face blanked briefly, as though his mind were a computer rebooting. Then the hypnotist asked once again, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Oh, God, yes! I can’t wait to feel you in me. I need you to pound my ass until I can barely stand. Please, please fuck me!”

Matt almost started laughing again, thinking that the new hypno-bottom Nick sounded as though he’d watched way too many porn flicks. But he merely said, “Well then let me at your ass so I can get you ready,” as he squeezed out a liberal application of lube onto his hand. Nick meekly presented his tight little bottom, looking at Matt over his shoulder with eager, unadulterated desire on his handsome, hypnotized face.

Hypnosis notwithstanding, Matt knew that Nick wasn’t really the practiced bottom-boy he had been hypnotically tricked into believing himself to be, so the hypnotist was prepared to take his time greasing him up and getting his ass used to the penetration. However, as soon as his slick fingers first made contact with Nick’s hypnotically hungry hole, the boy began to writhe and moan in ecstasy, begging for more, more, MORE. And by the time his ass was accommodating three of the hypnotist’s fingers, he was completely incoherent, thrusting himself onto the invading digits and humping the bed helplessly.

Seeing no point in delaying further, Matt positioned himself and drove into Nick’s more-than-ready ass, wrapping his arms around the boy’s heaving chest as he began to thrust vigorously. Nick matched him thrust for thrust, driving the hypnotist’s dick in deeper and deeper into his insatiable hole, all the while groaning rapturously, “Yeah, fuck me, yeah, OH YEAH!” Matt pulled out briefly to flip Nick over onto his back. He hoisted the boy’s legs onto his shoulders and then recommenced his pistoning hip action, now able, as he fucked, to watch Nick’s face at the same time, flushed with pleasure and exertion, expression glazed with sex and hypnosis both.

Realizing that he was very close to the point of no return, in between his own gasps of pleasure Matt commanded, “At the count of three you will cum, Nick. It is the best orgasm you’ve ever had. One… two… three!” With a howl that topped all of the previous ones, Nick began to shoot all over his own stomach and chest. A few of the most powerful spurts even reached his face and open, panting mouth as he thrashed helplessly. And the spasmodic contractions of Nick’s ass as he orgasmed were all it took to bring the hypnotist right along with him. Like the star of his own porno flick, Matt whipped his cock out of the suctioning, squeezing hole, ripped off his condom, and added his own load to the accumulating mess on Nick’s face and chest, finishing up milking himself with his hand until he was screaming almost as loudly as the boy.

As the spasms finally subsided, the hypnotist collapsed, still breathing hard, to lie beside the spellbound boy. When he could trust his vice, Matt said, “Deeper into your trance, Nick… Close your eyes and sleep… sleep… sleep… you can’t move… can’t think… no awareness of anything until I say your name again.” Then he began to massage the totally inert, oblivious young man, smearing the cum that drenched his motionless body all over until all of Nick’s beautiful face and body, all that flawless tanned skin, shone as though it had been shellacked. He then cleaned himself up, after which he recaptured Nick’s attention and led the obedient stud, fragrant with sex juices, back downstairs to where they’d both left their clothes.

“Get dressed, Nick, and then sit in the chair again.”

When that had been accomplished Matt then commanded, “When I touch your shoulder, I want you to count backwards from one thousand. With each number I want you to say ‘I’m a hypnotized boy and I obey… I’m going deeper and deeper into trance’, and each time you say it you will feel it happen… you will obey, and you will go deeper and deeper and deeper. You will be aware of nothing else until I touch you again, at which point you will stop counting and respond to your new, much deeper level of hypnotic control.”

Matt lightly tapped Nick’s shoulder and then, as the boy began to murmur sleepily, as before, “One thousand… I’m a hypnotized boy and I obey… I’m going deeper and deeper into trance… 999… I’m a hypnotized boy…,” helplessly digging a new sub-level in his own hypnotic enslavement with the irresistible power of the mantra, the hypnotist picked up his phone and dialed a number.

“Madam Cherry’s Escorts,” the voice sang out when he connected.

“Cherry, it’s Matt.”

“Oh, you.” Suddenly the fruity voice was all business and not in the least feminized or gushy. “Well, did it work?”

“I’ll let you judge.” The hypnotist held the phone to Nick’s face.

“…going deeper and deeper into trance… 885… I’m a hypnotized boy and I obey… I’m going deeper and deeper into trance… 884… I’m a hypnotized boy and I obey…”

When Matt returned the phone to his ear he could hear Cherry laughing fiendishly. “Well, well, well, how the mighty have fallen! And I may assume you were able to take care of that little ass-fucking issue so the finicky young shit will drop the attitude and start earning some real money for me?”

“Oh yeah, consider the attitude adjusted. The only thing dropping from now on will be Nick’s pants. I’ve turned him into a power bottom. I’ve also made him a little more guy-oriented, so he’s not going to be wasting so much of his time chasing ladies. Don’t worry, though. Your boy will still be perfectly capable of plowing an ass or a pussy, if that’s what the client wants. And as we agreed, I retain the use of him whenever I want.”

“Of course, dear boy,” the fruitiness of Cherry’s public-persona voice was back. “And besides, if he’s as completely hypnotized as he sounds, it wouldn’t make a particle of difference if I said otherwise, now would it?”

Matt chuckled. “No, it wouldn’t. Glad to do business with someone who appreciates the realities. By the time I let young Nick leave here, I’ll have so many hooks in his mind I’ll be able to reel him in any time, from anywhere, no matter who might try to interfere. But if, at some point later on, you want me to teach him any other new tricks, I’m happy to do it for the same cash fee-arrangement, or else you can send me another of your boys for us to ‘share’.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Toodles,” and Cherry hung up.

About a week later, Nick’s private cell-phone buzzed. It wasn’t a number he recognized, but something made him answer anyway. “Hi, Nick Phillips.”

“Hello, Nick, it’s Matt Hardwick.”


“Matt Hardwick… your master.”

In an instant the handsome young man froze in place, his face wiped blank of all personality and expression. “I’m a hypnotized boy and I obey… I’m a hypnotized boy and I obey…” He droned helplessly, over and over, as though he’d never stopped.

“Come to me, Nick,” and the phone went dead as the hypnotist hung up.

Like a sleepwalker or an android robot, Nick closed the phone, picked up his car keys, and marched out of his apartment without a backward glance into his new life.