Hypnosis and the Hounds: Final

Slut learns to be an Object

Graeme reached out a hard black hand and grabbed me by the hair and yanked me to my feet in front of him, head bowed to the side.

He slapped my face, then slapped my wobbling 48G breasts again and again, all the while his voice was hard, cold and on the edge of a loss of control I had never seen for the years I served him in the army as his 2IC.

“Dear frigid little Corporal Thomas, who wouldn’t look at any of the men, wouldn’t let any of them so much as compliment her round little ass and huge white titties is a slut. A FUCKING SLUT. All the years I dreamed of plowing your tight little red cunt, fucking those milk white jugs and painting that blue eyed face of yours with some hot black cum, and you tell me you are a slut when I CAN”T EVEN GET HARD ANY MORE?”

Graeme roared as he slapped my tits, then my face, then my tits. I knew the power he had in his hands, he could have knocked me out or left me with teeth missing, but his slaps were not damaging, just reminders that he was in charge, and I was in trouble. I felt myself grow wet at his display of power and control, not only of himself, but of me. I felt so deeply ashamed that Slut had never been free to serve her Sgt when she was Jan. She had never been free to admit she touched herself thinking about blowing him in the cab of the truck when she was his codriver, dreamed about him tying her to the A frame of the cable recovery vehicle and leaving her to be used by every soldier in the platoon. Slut could admit such things, where Jan never could.

“Kiss my ass, you worthless white whore!” Graeme screamed as he released my long red hair and let me fall to my knees in front of his chair.

I kissed his feet, first one shoe, then another. I looked up into his eyes and told him the truth, because Slut is free to do so.

“Thank you Sgt. I have always longed to kiss your ass. Please, allow me to show how sorry Slut is because Jan never was free to admit she wanted to be your whore. Let me worship your black ass.”

I was undoing Graeme’s belt and tugging at his pants, he pulled his own hands away, his rage filled face now full of shock and confusion. His hands raised to either side as if afraid to interfere.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” Graeme asked.

“Slut is going to follow your orders, Graeme.” Michael said softly. “Slut is going to kiss your ass. Slut sees your power and your desire, she understands you are a powerful man and deserved to be worshipped and served by sluts like her, and she is going to prove it to you?”

Graeme lifted his ass and allowed me to yank down his jeans, his boxers, then I worked off his dress shoes and socks. His large flaccid black penis lay like a sleeping serpent over heavy over full black balls.

I kissed and sucked his cock into my mouth, stroking his balls as I burrowed closer to him. I then put my hand under his ass and pulled him forward on the chair. I pushed his long black legs up, knees high, to expose his ass.

Part of me that was Jan noted his legs had gotten thin, like he had spent too much time behind the desk and while diet had controlled his weight gain to a little pot belly, the massive muscles of the tree trunk legs I used to admire had thinned to a shadow of themselves. It was time I taught him to remember his power.

Burrowing my face into his ass, I began to suck and lick his puckered brown hole. It was sweaty and unshaved, somewhat rank from a long day of work and no shower. I lapped it up, and began to push my long married pink tongue into my former Sgt’s tight asshole.

He moaned as I worked my face into his ass crack, prying his ass cheeks farther apart to burrow deeper. Working my tongue in to loosen his tight pucker. I rimmed him like a god on earth, rimmed him like the slut I was. Rimmed him with panting, drooling, moaning passion.

“Fucking whore, fucking slut. Goddamned whore. Eat my black ass you worthless cunt!” Graeme groaned as I worked his asshole.

That was too much for Father Mathus, my Anglican priest. He dropped to his knees beside me and began frothing at the mouth in his contempt and outrage.

“You Jezabel, you Whore of Babylon. Pretending to the world that you were a virtuous woman, when all you are is a dirty whore. Every day you knelt to take communion from me, you should have been on your knees taking my cock. You dirty little whore. God has revealed your sins to me whore, and I will punish them!”

He had married my husband and I, he had baptized all three of my daughters. Now he was spanking my ass so hard he left handprints. The clerical collar on his purple dress shirt was the same he wore at Sunday service, but now it wrinkled as she strove to paddle my ass for my harlotry.

Each strike drove me harder into Graeme’s ass, and I moaned. I deserved this, I needed this. I was Slut, I existed to serve great men. I was honoured to be of use to such great men. I would beg for his correction and discipline, if my tongue wasn’t deep in my old superior’s bowels.

Michael dropped a box beside Father Mathus. It was full of plugs and vibrators, of riding crops and floggers, of nipple clips and restraints. Far from stopping Father Mathus from abusing me, Michael was providing him a range of implements to use on the therapy bitch, on the female object that was there to unburden the worthy men.

I had switched from tongue to fingers, as I began to work my fingers into Graeme’s ass, and worked my mouth up to suck his beautiful black balls. His cock was semi hard now, not standing, but full and leaking as it rubbed against my face when a strong stroke from Father Mathus pushed me forward.

Father Mathus had switched to a cat o nine tails style flogger. It made a lot of noise, but hurt less than his hand. He began to work my ass as if painting my pale white flesh with the scarlet of my sins.

He was fumbling in the box for something, finally coming out with a long dildo like toy made of stacked balls. Father Mathus dropped the flogger and tried to ram it up my tight little ass. Michael stopped him, long enough to pour a half bottle of lube over the large toy, and then squirt some into my no longer virginal asshole, his fingers working it in to my ass as he coached Father Mathus.

“You are a man, women are given to you to use for your pleasure, but they are not given to you to break. They are not people, they are property, and you do not damage property that has been generously loaned to you, do you Father Mathus? You use it, you show that property what it was put on this earth to do. You show that property what it is to be mastered by a man!”

Michael’s words had been for Father Mathus, but they went through me like a knife. With a groan I took Greame’s big black cock into my mouth. I milked his prostate with my fingers deep in his ass, as I sucked his cock, swirling my tongue around his heavy mushroom head as I sucked the precum out of his cock like it was holy water, and my only hope of salvation.

Father Mathus began to work the big toy into my ass. It was torture, each ball passed through my sphincter and allowed it to snap tight, making the next ball force me open again as it entered me. It was like a cock made of cockheads, each one raping me open again. He poured on lube and laughed at my body’s reaction.

“You like that slut? You need that? I see you pushing back into this. You like having your slut ass fucked don’t you?” Father Mathus asked. I groaned my helplessness as I sucked Michael’s cock.

Father Mathus began to frig my clit with his fingers as he worked the heavy toy into my ass. I was no longer able to use the pain to hide from the pleasure, I was so close to cumming that I began to whimper.

That was when Graeme bellowed like a fighting bull, like a rodeo bull released from the gates. His cock, not fully hard began to jump in my mouth as he dumped spurt after spurt of cum into my mouth. I worked his prostate with my long fingers deep in his ass, and milked him dry into my mouth.

He grabbed my head so hard I feared he would leave marks, holding me in place, face screwed up tight, no longer even breathing as the force of his first orgasm in who knows how long bend his strong black body in half.

I came. I blasted cum all over Father Mathus as he drilled my ass and played with my pussy.

Roughly, he pushed me face down, and burrowed his own face into my cunt and lapped at me like a starving man at his last meal. When he pulled back, his face was transformed, glowing, almost haloed with the soft accepting gentleness of the priest I knew as my spiritual advisor, confessor, and authority.

That was when Mr Patel, my principal walked over and took up my leash from the ground. He grabbed it and used it to pull me onto all fours. Taking hold of the dildo stuck in my ass, he used that as the second handle to walk me over to his chair. He pulled out the toy, his dark Hindu face smiling beatifically as he watched one of his most respected teacher whimper like a white bitch when he pulled the dildo out of her well fucked ass.

“Now Slut, you have been holding out on me for too long. You have dressed to conceal that body from me the entire time you have worked for me. You have played the prim and proper woman, the frigid housewife who wouldn’t even say the word cock, let alone suck one. This isn’t true is it? You are really a dirty slut who exists only to please men, aren’t you?”

His words were gentle, his smile soft. He was an educator, like Jan was. Jan was deep inside me, where Slut usually hid, but both Jan and Slut heard Mr Patel’s words and accepted them as truth.

“Yes Master Patel, I am a dirty slut who only exists to please men. Please, let me serve you.” I said it, and I smiled. Not ashamed, but wanting to prove that I was a good girl, that I could learn, and that I was ready and eager to accept my instruction.

“Body’s like yours should be dancing for men, for all of us to see and enjoy. I would pay good money for a lap dance from a slut like you. Why don’t you show me what a married white whore like yourself would do for tips? Give me a lap dance to help me forgive you for hiding your slut self from me.” Mr Patel demanded, eyes still gentle, but voice firm.

“Yes Master!” I was getting excited. This was a chance for me to prove I was a good girl. To prove I wanted to serve, that I could bring happiness, could bring joy. That I was a useful object, deserving of my collar and my training.

I thought about a movie I saw with my husband in the theater. One that made me horny enough to give him a quiet hand job in the theater. 9-1/2 weeks. There was a scene in it where Kim Bassinger gave a lap dance, strip tease to “You can leave your hat on.” I let that music flow through me, and with eyes now burning with passion of my own, I turned on the man I taught for, my own principal.

I first straddled him backwards, letting my ass rub against his crotch, then bend forward to run my hands down his legs, raising my pussy and ass to right in front of his face to see, then I stepped off as I felt his hands running up my thighs, and his breath on my pussy.

Not yet. Not until you can’t stand it.

I turned and straddled him frontwards, now standing, kissing the top of his head and pillowing his face between my huge heavy breasts. Usually I hated them, called them udders, tried to hide and minimize them in everything I wore, but right now they were my glorious tools of temptation, I gloried in their sensitivity, their size, and Mr Patels reaction to them.

I could feel him motorboating my breasts, and I giggled.

I dropped into his lap, and began to kiss his neck, his ears, his throat as I ground my pussy upon his crotch. I could feel him grabbing my hair and forcing my head back. As I arched backward, he dropped his mouth to my left breast and sucked it.

“Oh yes Master Patel, suck my breasts, BITE THEM, mark them!”

I felt him take my nipple deep in his mouth, he worked it deep, sucking harder than a breast pump, raising my areolae in swollen hypersensitivity. He switched breasts to the other one, sucking and biting, leaving hickeys all over my tits.

I was grinding on him, but he wasn’t done, he yanked me to my feet, stood me between his legs, and began to finger fuck me while he gnawed upon my breasts.

I was helpless, I couldn’t do anything but surrender to his powerful thrusting fingers and his dominating, demanding mouth.

Graeme called out, “The little slut likes it, she likes her Principal teaching her what a whore she is doesn’t she?”

Father Mathus called out.

“Admit it whore, you love everything we do to you. You need everything we do to you. You want us to treat you like the slut that you are!”

I screamed out as I began to cum. “YES, YES, YES, I am your slut, your whore. I need you to use me, to discipline me, to train me to be the best slut I can be to serve you properly!”

I came and came, shuddering so powerfully I lost control and fell into Mr Patel’s lap. He drew me into his lap and stroked my long red hair

“Good girl Jan. Good slut. You are a good slut. You have pleased me” He said, kissing my tears away. When I turned to face him, he kissed my mouth, and I sucked his tongue as he slid it into my mouth and gave me the kiss of a master to a slave girl.

I eventually slipped to my knees before them. My priest, Father Mathus reached down and cupped my chin, he raised my eyes to look at him.

“God made you a slut, so you could serve the pleasures of men. Pleasing men is God’s will and your purpose. You have pleased me, and pleased God. You are a Good Girl, and a Good Slut.”

I kissed his hands, before he strode past me to the door beside Mr Patel.

Finally Graeme, once again the calm controlled picture of martial virtue stood before me. His face softened from black iron to something almost gentle.

“I never knew you were a slut like that when we served together, but at the time, neither one of us could have acted on it. You were a good slut tonight. You were the slut I needed tonight. You made me feel whole and healthy for the first time in a long time.”

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then stroked the hand print he had left on my cheek. I was in tears with the emotions welling up inside me.

Graeme moved to stand with his fellows at the outside door.

“Same time next week, right?” Graeme asked.

“With the slut.” Father Mathus clarified.

Michael laughed softly. “Of course. Slut lives only to serve.”

He stroked my hair, and I felt a euphoria wash through me. This wouldn’t have to end!

Michael took out his gold coin and held it before me. I knew what he was going to do. He was going break the trance and take this away from me. I crawled on hands and feel to run away, I would not go back to what I was before, I would not give up these memories.

Michael had one foot on my leash, and I was brought up short. He reached down and picked up the leash, then slowly wrapped it around his fist to shorten it, and leave me on my knees facing him.

“Now Slut, you will watch this coin, and count back with me from ten. When we count back from ten, Jan will be back in control, she will not remember what Slut has done, but she will feel all the good things that Slut feels, she will remember she is a Good Girl and that she has helped good and worthy men, that she was a good therapy bitch.”

I groaned as his calm tones soothed the panic in me that all of this would be taken away.

“Ten” He said, and I echoed.

“Nine” I could feel Jan and Slut mixing and mingling. Slut was always inside Jan, but never allowed to come out. Now Slut was sliding back inside Jan, filling the broken places, filling the empty places, filling the needs she never admitted she had. Jan and Slut would never be wholly separate again.

When we counted back to one, I/we knelt naked save for my stockings in the middle of the therapy room. There was only Michael and me, with some scattered toys I chose not to see, not to think about.

“You should dress now Jan, and let me drive you home. You have had a long and heavy therapy session, and you will feel very tired, and very sore. I have never been prouder of anyone I have worked with than I was of you tonight. You brought a lot of healing, a lot of hope to the men of my erectile dysfunction group.”

I dressed as I felt Michael’s words sinking into me, taking root in the fertile soil of my own insecurities, hungers and needs. I stopped thinking about my clothes, the toys on the ground, the aches of my body, and heard only that I had helped. I had brought healing. That Michael was proud of me.

I looked to him, eyes just barely meeting his as I put on my shoes.

“Was I a Good Girl?” I asked.

“You were the best girl ever.” Michael said smiling. “Can we count on you next week, Jan?”

I smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

I had never felt so in control of my own life, so powerful, so at peace. I loved what Leashholder Therapy had done for me. I new my daughters were stressed from University life, mid twenties and finding out adulting was all stress and compromises. I wondered if they would benefit from Michael’s therapy?

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/vtqh8j/hypnosis_and_the_hounds_final