Hypno Harem (6 page)

“NO!” she exclaimed loudly, but her hands were already reaching down to remove her shoes. Once those were off, she found herself standing, hands raising her dress so they could slip underneath and pull her pantyhose to her knees. She sat down again and they rolled the hose off her left foot, then the right. She nervously arranged her dress around her now naked legs. “What are you going to do?” she said, a tremble in her voice.

“Punish you, Dr. Starke,” Woody said quietly. He opened the cardboard box and pulled out something wrapped in white tissue paper. “You’ve been very bad and you’re long overdue for some discipline.”

From the paper he removed something that looked like a large ping-pong paddle, except it was entirely polished wood. Holes of different sizes had been drilled in it. “I got this today at Taboo Toys. The clerk said it’s very popular with the fraternity crowd. The holes reduce wind resistance.”

“You’re going to
spank
me?” she said, stunned.

“I’m going to hit your rear end, yes, but much harder than a mere spanking. What I'm going to do, Dr. Starke, is give you a sound
beating
.”

Emma tried to stand but her legs refused to lift her from the chair. “HELP!” she screamed. “HELP! BECKY! ANYONE!”

A moment later, the door opened and Becky looked in, concern on her face. “Dr. Starke? What’s the matter?”

“Call the police!” cried Emma. “Hurry! Woody, he’s crazy. Dangerous!”

But Becky didn’t seem to hear her. Instead, she looked at Woody. “Nothing’s the matter, Becky,” he said with a smile. “Everything’s fine. It’s late. Go lock the door to the anteroom and turn off the lights. Then sit at your desk until you hear my voice. If someone knocks at the door, don’t pay any attention. Don’t answer the phone. Don’t answer your own phone. Do you understand?”

“Sure,” she pleasantly. “No problem.” She closed the door. A moment later, the lights in the anteroom went out. Woody turned to Emma. “Now no chance of being disturbed. Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Emma sat and stared helplessly. A nightmare. That was the only explanation. She was home asleep, having a nightmare. She shut her eyes tight and willed herself to wake up.

“It’s not a nightmare,” said Woody’s voice. “It’s real. Open your eyes and stand up.”

Her eyes opened. Her legs lifted her from the chair and she stood.

“Put the pantyhose in your chair.”

“What?” she said, confused.

“The pantyhose. You’re still holding them. Put them in your chair, then come around to this side of the desk. There’s more room here.”

Against her will, her legs took her around the desk. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Well, Dr. Starke,” Woody said in a light tone. “You’re already doing whatever I want and as for hurting you, that’s what I’m about to do. In spades.”

A gasp and sob escaped Emma. “Lean over your desk,” Woody told her.

Her body obeyed promptly, without resistance. She felt like a marionette, arms and legs on invisible wires manipulated by someone else.

“Lie on the desk, feet on the floor.”

She complied, lying on top of several papers, a book, her nameplate.

“Pull your dress up. All the way to your waist.” Her hands gripped the hem and she pulled it up until her naked rear was exposed.

“Well now!” Woody exclaimed appreciatively. “You have a very nice ass, Emma. Yes, indeed. Very trim for a woman your age. Say ‘thank you’ to the nice man.”

Emma’s mouth opened and the words “Thank you” came out.

“Exactly how old are you, Emma?” Woody said in an overly sweet voice, as if he was talking to a child.

“I’m forty-two,” she said, the words had a high, wee tone. She felt very strange. He was behind her and out of sight now. She hadn’t been exposed like this since she’d been spanked by her father for some forgotten misbehavior. She remembered his voice as she lay over his lap, explaining that he was not hurting her because he wanted to. He loved her. He wanted her to grow up and have her own children, and when she did, she or her husband would sometimes have to spank
them
for their own good, just as his father had spanked him. He too had been calm and friendly.

“Forty-two? My, my!” said Woody. “Emma, from now on, I want you to call me ‘Sir.’ Say ‘I’m forty-two,
Sir
.’”

“I’m forty-two, Sir.”

“Good girl! And when is your birthday, Emma?”

“December ninth.”

“Sir.”

“December ninth, Sir.”

“Well, you’re a very pretty girl, Emmie. Do you know that?”

Strangely, the compliment flustered her. She didn’t know how to respond, except that she should say
something
. It would be rude not to. “Uh, nobody’s called me a girl in a long time, Sir.”

“Well, that’s a shame. For right now, you’re going to be
my
little girl.”

“Yes, sir.” She was starting to feel strange, as if she was getting younger and smaller. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to fight the feeling. That’s all it was really. Just a feeling. She was still big. She was a
big
girl!

“And you’ll do everything I tell you.”

“Uh…”

“Won’t you, Emmie?”

“Uh, yes, Sir.” His voice seemed to keep getting… bigger. And she just kept getting smaller.

“Because you’re a good little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yeth, sir.”

He leaned over her and she felt him slip something around her neck. A moment later he tightened it. Then she heard a metallic
snap
.

He stepped back. “Do you know what that is, Emmie?”

She smelled fresh leather, felt a tightness around her throat. “Is it a cah, cowwah…” She was having trouble with some words. She couldn’t say them right. “A cah… “

“Yes, it’s a collar. It’s a dog collar. Do you know why I put it on you?”

“No, sir.”

“Because, Emmie, you’re my bitch now.”

“I am, Sir?”

“Yes. That collar is going to stay on you all the time, day and night, until I get my diploma. I locked it just now. The only way you can get it off is to cut the leather. And if you do that, I’ll know and I’ll be
very angry
. And we don’t want that, do we?”

“No, Sir! But, but…”

“But what?”

“People will
see
it!”

“Just wear something that covers it up. It’s cold. No one will think it’s odd to be wearing a turtleneck or a scarf.”

“But I don’t
wanna
wear a cowwah,” she whined. She sniffled. “Please, Sir. Don’t make me wear it.”

“Sorry.”

“
Pleaasse
, Sir? Pretty please with sugar on it?”

“No and don’t ask again. “

In that small part of her mind that was still functioning like an adult, Emma felt not only frightened but humiliated.  Bent over the desk in her own office, ass exposed, collared like an animal,
called
an animal. And now she was talking like a four-year-old! Sir was regressing her. The observer in her adult mind realized that although she didn’t want to wear the collar, much less be beaten, she accepted his right to do to her what he chose. In psychology circles, they’d say she’d
internalized
Woody’s authority.

Fuck psychologists! She hated everybody! Well, everybody but Sir. She began to cry.

Woody patted her on the ass. “Now you’re going to need to be a brave girl. Do you think you can do that?”

“I… I don’t know, Sir.”

“Will you try? For me?”

“Yeth, sir. I’ll twy for you. I’ll twy weal hard!”

“That’s my girl!” he said with real affection.

Then he hit her.

I
t
stung
!
When little Emmie was six she’d been stung by a bee. The pain came out of nowhere, no buzz of warning. One moment she was playing in the backyard, the next she hurt and hurt.

This was the same. Sir was being so sweet to her and then, all of a sudden she hurt!

“Ohh!”
she gasped.

“Wait a moment,” Sir said. “The pain will lessen. Count to ten.”

She counted. “One… two… thwee…”  When she was done, she realized the worst of it had faded.

“How does it feel now?”

“Not like it did, Sir.”

“If I wait between blows, you’ll have time to get over the worst before I hit you again. That’s the humane way to beat someone.”

“Is that what you’re going to do, Sir?”

“Oh no, Emmie.”

Crack!

“Ahhhh!”

“I’m going to hit you fast and hard.”

Crack! Crack!

“Ohhhhh!”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!”

Three blows landed in quick succession, one on the right buttock, the other on the left, then the right again. Her ass was on fire!

Crack! Crack! Crack!

A blow on the left butt, then right butt, then the left again! It burned like she was sitting on coals!

“Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!” She screeched at the pain. “Oh, please stop, Sir. I’ll never be bad again. Never, never!”

He ignored her, swinging the paddle again and again.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Left, right, left! “Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!” This time all three blows landed on her left butt! Emmie was in a dazed, foggy state of mind but her body was on high alert, registering every blow, tracing the hurt as it radiated from the point of impact to join with the pain from previous blows. It was like heat, making her bottom feel overheated, as if sunburned. She began to sweat from the extreme warmth.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Three more blows on her right butt.

“Ohh! Ohhh!” She had to get away! Run! Hide!

Frantically, she raised her upper body from the desk and for once her body obeyed. She was on her feet, pushing away from the desk when she felt Woody’s hand against her back. He shoved her hard and she fell back on the desk.

She felt his hand in her hair. He gripped it and pulled her head back and up. He leaned over so she could see his face. “You caught me off guard, Emmie. That won’t happen again.” She felt his other hand grip her collar. He yanked it and the pressure cut off her air.

“Gukkkk!”

“You’re my bitch, Emmie. My. Bitch. Do you understand?”

The collar, too tight. She couldn’t speak
. “Gukkk!”

He let go of the collar. “Do you?”

She gasped for air. “Yeth… yeth, sir.”

His eyes locked on hers and she felt the force of his will inside her mind. He was right. She was helpless. He was stronger than her, much stronger. Much bigger. She was little and small. She was his little girl. She belonged to him. Sir could do as he wanted with this bitch.
All night long.

W
oody
studied Emma’s face, head raised from the desk by his fist in her hair. She was staring back at him, pupils huge, tears streaking her cheeks. She looked scared and vulnerable, even childlike. And something else. Submissive. Yes, that was it. She still struggled, trying to escape the pain. But she wasn’t fighting
him
. He’d mastered her.

He liked the feel of her hair, soft and silky like her daughter’s. He pulled her head back further. She winced, shutting her eyes as if she could shut out the pain.

“Open your eyes, Emmie.”

She obeyed. “Look at me.” She turned her head as far as she could, big blue pupils filling the corners of her eyes, staring at him with an animal intensity. His bitch.

“Open your mouth, Emmie,”

She obeyed and he thrust his fingers in her mouth. She flinched at the intrusion.

“Suck my fingers.” Her lips closed on them and she began to suck, tentatively at first and then with real energy. He shoved his hand further in her mouth. She gasped but kept it up, teeth and lips tight around him.

Then she did something he didn’t expect. He was simply testing her, asserting his will to see if she resisted. Far from resisting, she closed her eyes and started making little sounds.
“Hm, hmm, hmmm.”

She was
mewing
, just like a kitten.

He felt his cock stiffen. Nuh-uh! Time for that later maybe, but right now he needed to finish the job at hand. He took his hand out of her mouth and pushed her head back on the table. “Don’t try to get up again, Emmie. Do you understand?”

“Yeth, sir.… Sir?”

“What?”

“I like it when you do that, Sir.”

“Put my hand in your mouth?”

“Yeth, sir. I like it.”

“I see. Well, let’s see how you like
this
.” He picked up the paddle and swung hard.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!”

She twisted and squirmed but stayed flat.

He was hitting her with real force now. Her ass had turned a bright, vivid red.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Ohhh! Ohhh! OHHHH!”

Something different about that last cry. What? Her voice was higher, shriller. What was going on?

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Ohhh! Ohhh! Oh my doodness!”

He glanced down. He could see the desk between her open legs. It shone. Why? He touched it and felt moisture. It shone because it was reflecting light. He put his hand to her pussy, which responded to his touch by pushing against his hand.

She was wet! The bitch was actually getting aroused!

He didn’t know whether to be angry or amused. Whichever, the discovery made his hard dick get harder. He swung the paddle.

Crack!

“Ohhh!”

“Emmie, you whore! You
like
this, don’t you?”

“Like what, Sir?”

“You’re wet! This is getting you hot!”

“Uh, is it, Sir?” She sounded genuinely surprised. She probably was. She wasn’t thinking like a mature woman right now. It was her
body
, which at the moment was in a sense older than her mind, that was responding to the pain. He swung again.

T
he blows
hurt and then again they didn’t hurt. Just at the point where they’d become unbearable, Emmie felt a rush of endorphins that enveloped her in a feverish euphoria. It swept over her, flushing buried guilt from her subconscious just like the sweat carried toxins out of her body.

Crack! Crack!

“Ohhh! Ohhh!”

“You nasty little girl!”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“Ohhh! Ohhh! My doodness!”

“Say it! Say, ‘I’m a nasty little girl!”

Crack! Crack!

“Ohhh! Ohhh. I’m a nasty little girl, Sir!”

She
had
been bad. It was bad, so bad, to put her own name on Paul’s work. The guilt had eaten at her for years. Sometimes she had nightmares where he came back to publically accuse her. It was right that she be punished. And who better to punish her than the inheritor of the mantle of Otto Popper, the distinguished scientist whom she’d harassed into an early grave.

Crack! Crack!

“Ohhh! Ohhh!”

“Bitch in heat! Say it!”

“I’m a bitch, Sir.”

“Bitch in
heat
!”

“A bitch in heat, Sir.”

With every blow her guilt diminished a little. The pain was cleansing her. She no longer dreaded it. She
craved
it.

Crack!

“Ohhhh!”

“Filthy slut!”

“I’m a filthy slut, Sir!”

Crack!

“Ohhhh!”

“Filthy, nasty, sick little bitch!”

“I’m a filthy, nasty, sick little bitch, Sir.”

She was bad, but no longer a bad woman who stole credentials and schemed for promotion. She was a bad, nasty slut of a little girl and she
liked
this new identity. It was not only more bearable, it was more fun.

Crack! Crack!

“Whaaa! Whaaaaa!”

She began to wail, childish sobs pouring out of her.

“Whaaaaa!

A wild, churning storm of heat and emotion spread throughout her, turning her mind to mush. Her ass was aflame. Her little pussy was aflame. 
All
of her was aflame, heat filling her every orifice.

“WHAAAAAA!”

Heat of pleasure! Heat of lust! Heat of pain!

“WHAAAAAA!”

W
oody
put down the paddle. He was drenched in sweat. So was Emma. So was Emma’s ass, which was shiny and crimson. It was time to stop.

“Whaaaaaa!”

She was making too much noise. Someone in the hall might hear her. The bitch was too far gone for spoken commands. He mentally willed her to be quiet but it did no good. She’d passed into a state of excitement and childishness that couldn’t be reached, at least not right now. He’d have to gag her.

He walked around the desk and picked up the pantyhose, bunching it in his hand. Too small. It would do to hold a gag in place but he needed something to stuff in her mouth. He looked around. Nothing. He opened the door to the anteroom, where Becky sat quietly in the darkness. “Hi, Becky. How’s it going?”

“Just fine, Mr. Goodman. What’s up with Dr. Starke? She upset?”

“She’s fine. I had to give her a beating is all.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Are you wearing panties or pantyhose?”

“Panties.”

“Take them off and give them to me, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll just pop to the ladies room and be right back.”

“I can’t wait. I need them to gag Dr. Starke. Just take them off here.”

“Uh, okay. Would you mind, uh… looking the other way?”

Woody turned his back to her. “Sorry. How’s this?”

“Fine.”

A moment later Becky chirped. “You can look.” She held out a pair of pink cotton panties.

“Perfect. Thanks, Becky.”

“No problem!” 

Woody went back in the office.

“Whaaaa! Whaaaa! Whaaaaaa!”

She was still lying on the desk, wailing loudly, even though he’d stopped hitting her. He balled the panties and pushed them into her mouth, shutting her up in mid-wail. Then he looped the pantyhose around her head, slipped it between her teeth and jerked hard so that it pulled her lips back, forcing the panties deep against her throat. He knotted the hose behind her neck. That did the trick.

“mmmmph… mmmmph… mmmmph.”

He doubted her muffled sobs could be heard even in the anteroom and certainly not in the hallway. “Look at me, Emmie,” he told her. Somewhat to his surprise, she heard and complied, lifting her head to stare at him through teary eyes, mouth cruelly cleaved by the pantyhose.

His cock stiffened. He smiled; having the power to rudely silence the woman he used to fear and loathe was a real turn-on. He’d never done bondage, hadn’t even given it much thought. His fantasies were more mainstream, the most daring of them nothing racier than maybe a pair of girls. This though,
this
was sort of exciting.

The two legs of the pantyhose hung loose behind Emma’s neck where he’d knotted them in place. He took her arms, lying limp on the desk beside her body, and crossed them behind her back. Then he used the legs to bind her wrists tightly together, which held them at the small of her back and pulled back her head so it was raised off the desk.

He stepped back to admire his work. “Emmie, look at me.” She obeyed, blinking at tears, still sobbing under the gag. Her eyes were red and there were lines in her forehead. It was probably uncomfortable, maybe even a little painful, having her head pulled back like that. Too bad! The idea of causing his onetime nemesis pain and discomfort made his cock harder.

She was drooling. He guessed that the gag made it hard to swallow. He dug out his phone and took a photo. Nice shot! He held the phone so she could see it. “Don’t worry,” he laughed. “I won’t tell anyone you’re kinky! This will be our little secret.”

“Nuhh… yuhhh… guhhhh –
guhhhh!”

She was trying to tell him something between sobs but he couldn’t make it out. He strolled back behind her. Her ass positively
glowed
. He stuck his finger in her slit. Still wet. Good. He unzipped and his eager cock shoved its way through his pants. Her bound arms made a convenient handle. He gripped them and pulled her backward, pressing his own body forward.