Graceful Madame J

• Posted by Hypnotic Hart Sep 4 - Filed in Arts & Culture - 324 views

  It was early afternoon as my flight touched down at JFK and I was shattered. Fortunately, my meetings weren’t until the following morning so I had the rest of the day (and night) to chill out, relax and re-energise. That seemed like good planning: must’ve been why I’d decided to fly out early and stay overnight rather than arrive just-in-time as was my usual custom.

  Having finally cleared through border control I strode purposefully through the baggage hall, dragging my wheelie cabin suitcase behind me, and out into Arrivals only to be caught off-guard by a guy holding a board with my name on it. Perhaps in my efficiency I’d also ordered a car to take me to my hotel rather than just jumping in a cab. Strange. I didn’t really remember, but then it had all come together quickly and booking sites are so good at taking your money from you with just a simple click that you don't remember.

  The chauffeur took me outside to a stretch limo and opened the door. “There must be some mistake,” I protested.

  “This is you, no?” he said, pointing to my name on his iPad. “No mistake.”

  Oh well. I was here now; may as well enjoy it! I took off my jacket and handed it to the driver as I climbed inside. Although it was light outside the tinted windows and dark leather interior presented more of an evening feel inside, which was further enhanced by the purply-blue ‘club-like’ LED lighting. I grabbed a water out of the fridge as we started to move and slumped down with a deep relaxing sigh.

  It was only then that I realised someone else was there with me. “Wait, hang-on,” I panicked and desperately fumbled around for the intercom or partition opening buttons. “There’s definitely been some mistake. I’m in someone else’s car!”

  “It’s OK Steve,” said a smooth, confident, almost soporific and somehow instantly relaxing voice, “you’re in the right car.”

  “How… how do you know my name?” I stammered.

  “Just relax. It’ll all come back to you soon enough,” said the reassuring voice.

  I sat back and looked quizzically across the limo bench, studying her for the first time. A young, Asian looking girl sat cross-legged smiling sweetly back at me, her foot gently swaying in time with… in time with what? The motion of the car? Her long black hair cascaded naturally over her shoulders with her sharp, dramatic bangs (or fringe as I would call it) juxtaposing her warm sweet face. She wore round wire-framed glasses with what looked to me like little cat’s-ear corners creating yet another contrast by drawing the otherwise circular rims into square edges. Her dimpled smile and bright red lips gave way to a slender neck and pert bosom, which was partially obscured by her hand mindlessly playing with a large amethyst pendant necklace. I noticed the chunky silver ball ring on her index finger, simultaneously complementing and contrasting the pendant whilst emanating an air of self-confidence

  It was as my eyes were drawn to this and the thoughts of the complexity and contradiction I’d observed in this warm, sweet, innocent looking lady crossed my mind, that I first noticed what looked like a silver watch or bracelet under her black denim jacket sleeve. My cock twitched.

  As it did she leaned forward and brought her hand up to rest her head on. Surely she couldn’t have noticed; it must have been a coincidence, but this action subtly and naturally exposed the large, stainless-steel Patek Philippe on her wrist, a black hairband casually accompanying it.

  

  My eyes met hers: deep and black. She smiled, subconsciously licking her lips before she spoke, visibly aroused at what must have been my eyes glazing over. “You know now don’t you?”

  “Yes, Madame J”, I heard my disembodied voice reply.

  “Good boy.”

  My stomach erupted with the arousal growing beneath it.

  “Tell me what you know”.

  I explained how I knew we’d met on a professional adult chatline service when I’d stumbled across her profile and called her looking for some hypnotic relief. I remembered that she’d been hypnotising me for months ever since then: calls; video chats; messages. Every opportunity she could to condition and programme me to be here right now, and yet for me to have no recollection of any of it until I discovered the watch on her wrist just then.

  I remembered that in one of our early calls she’d hypnotised me and interrogated my subconscious to find out what I really wanted: “you wanted someone to hypnotise you, to turn you into their little fuck-toy without you even realising. To give you the permission to do what you want to do and be the things they wanted you to be. And I wanted a fuck-toy to play with for my pleasure. So here you are.

  "SLEEP!”

  The glint of the purply-blue limo lights flashed across her ring as her fingers snapped in front of my face. My eyes closed instantly as my mind and body sank deep into my seat.

  The world dropped away, swallowed in darkness, soft lights flickering behind my eyelids like the fading echoes of her command. My limbs slackened. Time bent. I floated. Her voice followed me into the depths, soft as silk and sharp as a whip.

  "Good boy... deeper now... every breath pulls you down, every heartbeat binds you tighter to me."

  I moaned as my cock stirred once again in my trousers. The sensation no longer mine; no longer mine to act on. My arousal, my thoughts—mine no more.

  She whispered instructions into my pliable mind. Key phrases. Commands. Conditions.

  "Whenever you see me touch my ring, you will feel a wave of arousal ripple through your body—so strong you’ll forget where you are.

  "When I flick my wrist, the one wearing this watch, your spine (and other things) will straighten. You will become alert, desperate to serve.

  "And if I twirl my pendant..."

  I whimpered.

  "...you will remember that you belong to me. That your mind, your body, your pleasure are mine to command."

  Each suggestion was accompanied by the feel of her fingers dragging the cool surface of her ring down my chest, or the flash of her watch in my peripheral vision. She was embedding them. Burying them deep.

  Her voice slid over me, warm and slow: "And you won’t remember these triggers consciously. You’ll just feel them. React to them. And you love how helpless it makes you."

  She laced in pleasure with obedience, submission with arousal. Each new phrase causing my cock to twitch; desperate to escape the shackles of clothes that held it.

  Then, her tone shifted — firmer, deeper.

  "Stand."

  I did. Instantly. Reflexively. As best I could in the back of a limo at least.

  "Now drop to your knees."

  This was easier. I collapsed before her, like a marionette whose strings had been severed and rewoven to her fingertips. My body no longer felt like my own — only an extension of her will.

  She slowly uncrossed her legs and placed one booted foot on each side of my head, trapping me between her thighs. Her heat radiated through the thin fabric of her skirt. The musky scent of her arousal filled my lungs.

  "Nuzzle in. Deep."

  I pressed forward without hesitation, burying my face between her thighs, my nose pushing gently into her panties. They were already wet. The fabric clung to her folds, slick with anticipation.

  "Good boy," she whispered. "Feel it. Inhale it. Let it soak into you."

  My arousal surged. I moaned into her, dizzy with pleasure, helpless with need. Her hand stroked my hair once, then settled on the back of my head, holding me there, worshipping her scent; her power.

  "Remember this," she murmured. "This feeling. This helpless desire."

  And then—

  Darkness.

  I blinked.

  I was sitting upright in my hotel bed. Fully dressed. Room tidy. My suitcase stood open in the corner. The limo, the pendant, the warm, wet pleasure between her thighs — all gone.

  Had I imagined it?

  I shook my head. My heart pounded. My cock throbbed.

  Had I dreamed it?

  I could still smell her.

   

  ---

   

  It was getting late, so I decided to go out and get some dinner and before long found myself stepping into a club. Music thumped like the echo of a trance. Lights flared violet and red, and the air pulsed with rhythm. I hadn’t planned to come here. Hadn’t even known I would.

  But here I was.

  A scent in the air. A sound in the background. A shape behind my thoughts.

  And then the lights parted—and there she was.

  Madame J. On stage. Dancing.

  It was a like a dream. She wore thigh-high boots, a black corset, a pendant glinting between her breasts, a ring catching strobes of red. Her Patek flashed with every flick of her wrist. And I remembered.

  She danced for the crowd, but her eyes were on me.

  She touched her ring.

  A bolt of heat raced down my spine. My knees buckled. I stumbled forward, eyes wide, heart hammering.

  She licked her lips. I dropped to my knees without a thought.

  She flicked her wrist. Her watch caught the light.

  My posture snapped into obedience. Back straight. Eyes alert. Cock rock hard.

  Then she twirled the pendant between her fingers.

  My mind emptied. A warm, delicious fog flooded me. I was hers again.

  She danced like she was casting spells—hip rolls punctuated with precise gestures. Each movement reactivating the trail she’d buried in my mind. I felt my breath hitch with each hypnotic flourish.

  At one point, she raised her hand, fingers pointed toward me like a silent gun. She snapped.

  I gasped.

  And in the silence between beats, I obeyed.

  She mouthed the word "Come"—not as a release, but a command. I rose and walked to the exact spot she had planted in my mind.

  She smiled as I knelt again in the front row, the rest of the club oblivious.

  Then she descended from the stage. I rose again—no conscious thought behind the movement—just obedience. She slid her arm into mine, casually, like a date guiding her partner out after a dance.

  We walked together, my vision slightly hazy, my mind still soft and suggestible, caught in the warmth of her spell. She hailed a cab, and I watched as she leaned down to whisper the destination to the driver—her pendant momentarily freed from the cage of her bosom.

  In the backseat, she slid in beside me and crossed one leg over the other. She took my hand, placed it on her thigh, then guided it higher, beneath the hem of her dress.

  No words. No permission needed.

  Her panties were damp.

  She pressed my fingers against her folds through the soaked fabric and leaned her head on my shoulder.

  "Keep playing," she whispered. "But don't you dare cum."

  I obeyed.

  She kept her voice light and casual, striking up a polite conversation with the cab driver—asking about local events, restaurants, weather. Her tone betrayed nothing. But beneath that façade, she rolled her hips slowly, just enough to grind against my fingers.

  I explored her rhythmically, slowly stroking along her slit, slipping just the tip of one finger inside the edge of her panties. She exhaled a quiet, satisfied sigh and turned her head slightly to kiss the corner of my jaw.

  The cab driver chuckled at something she said. I didn’t hear it. My ears were full of pulse and lust and the wet sound of her pleasure as I moved my fingers in tiny, obedient circles.

  She never stopped talking. But under her breath, she whispered the occasional trigger. Flicked her ring. Brushed my wrist with her pendant.

  My mind was a mess.

  When we arrived, she pressed a folded bill into the driver's hand and thanked him sweetly. As we stepped out of the cab, she leaned in close and murmured, "You kept your fingers busy like a good boy. Now it’s time for the rest of you."

  And we disappeared into the hotel.

  I was her sleeper. Her programmed toy. Activated.

   

  ---

   

  She led me through the lobby, fingers laced through mine, silent but purposeful. In the lift, she didn’t say a word—just pressed the button and stared ahead, her hand resting idly on my chest so I could see her ring and Patek perfectly balanced in my lower periphery.

  When we entered the room, she motioned toward the deep armchair near the window. “Sit,” she commanded.

  

  I obeyed, lowering into the plush recliner as she moved slowly in front of me, swaying with every step. She turned to face me, legs apart, and began to unbutton her blouse one loop at a time. My breath quickened with each reveal of soft skin beneath. The pendant glimmered as it gradually came into view.

  She slid her blouse off her shoulders, revealing the pendant fully. It rested against her chest, nestled between the curves of her breasts. She smiled down at me, fingers lifting the chain slowly.

  My heart pounded.

  

  She lifted it from her skin, held it aloft, and let it dangle. The jewel spun gently in the dim light, casting glimmers across my face.

  "You love this pendant, don’t you?" she whispered.

  I could only nod.

  Her hands reached behind her neck, beneath her thick black hair and suddenly it was free. She held it aloft and it began to sway rhythmically back and forth, her voice melting into the motion.

  "Watch it swing... back and forth... and let your thoughts fade away..."

  My eyelids grew heavy. My breath slowed. Her voice drew me deeper and deeper, until—

  I blinked.

  I was naked. Still in the chair.

  She was straddling me, still swinging the pendant in one hand. Her other hand gripped my shoulder, or was it my neck? Her bare chest rose and fell in slow rhythm with mine. Her beautiful form silhouetted against the city lights behind her.

  "You’ve been such a good toy," she purred.

  The pendant dropped, trailing down my chest, then lower... lower still... until the chain was coiled expertly around my cock like a cock-ring. Locking it tight. Holding it hard. Hers.

  She adjusted it just so, and I felt the jewel itself resting low—touching my asshole.

  I tensed in helpless ecstasy.

  And then she sank down onto me.

  I moaned. I felt her wet lips part as she adjusted herself. And I was inside. My hips jerked—but I couldn’t move.

  She began to ride me. Slowly. Purposefully. Racking back and forth, up and down. The pendant bouncing gently with each motion, bumping and teasing my ass.

  "You can’t cum," she whispered. "Not until I command it."

  Each thrust drove me to the edge. Each time I thought I’d break, her voice pulled me back under.

  Then she slipped one finger between us, parting the pendant, teasing what lay behind it before her digit was in me.

  My body convulsed with pleasure. My senses blurred.

  I felt her body clench around my cock—once, twice—as her euphoric cry sent a tremor through my chest.

  I gasped. Shaking.

  Still she didn’t let me cum. And somehow I was unable to.

  She leaned in and kissed me deeply, and whispered, “on your knees.”

  I slid down from the chair to the floor, dazed and trembling. She sat back on the edge of the bed, legs parted.

  I looked up into her eyes. She smiled.

  “Come here and worship me.”

  I crawled forward, placing soft, reverent kisses along her thigh.

  I was at her feet, eyes unfocused, mouth open.

  “Deeper,” she said.

  My tongue obeyed.

  I explored her slowly at first, tenderly. She moaned, tangled her hand in my hair, and pushed me deeper. She guided my rhythm with wrist flicks, with moaned commands, with subtle taps of her boot against my back.

  When she touched her ring, I licked faster. When she flicked her watch, I became more desperate. She moaned. Over and over. Her thighs sometimes squeezing as the joy overwhelmed, then her hands pulling me back in as her legs eased open again.

  I came without cumming. I surrendered my will over and over.

  With dancer's grace, she rose just enough to guide me by the hair, pushing me backward until I was flat on the bed. She climbed onto the mattress and straddled me, slowly inching forward until her slick, eager pussy hovered just above my mouth.

  And then she lowered herself down.

  Her thighs framed my vision. Her scent overwhelmed me. I licked again, deeper now, as she rode my face, grinding down with complete control. My hands clutched the sheets as she rocked with exquisite rhythm, her cries growing louder.

  I felt her hand snake down my body behind her. Then I gasped—silently, mouth still working—as she wrapped it around my still-bound cock.

  The pendant’s chain was tight, pulsing. She twisted her hand slowly, rhythmically, stroking and squeezing without mercy.

  I moaned into her.

  And then she twisted herself around. Graceful. Fluid. Contorted like the dancer she was.

  Her mouth wrapped around the head of my cock. She took me deep. Her throat relaxed. And she sucked.

  It was maddening.

  She was grinding against my mouth, and sucking me down in the same breath. Her pendant tapped against my ass with every motion. I could feel her tremble, feel her climax building again as my tongue continued to explore from this new angle.

  Still I couldn’t cum.

  Still she didn’t let me.

  Her muscles clenched, her moans echoed through the room, and I felt the wild, intimate rush of her release once again.

  And then she slid off me, breathing heavily, eyes wild and radiant.

  I don’t recall everything that happened. She used me from every angle: bent over the bed; straddling my lap; pinned beneath her; me behind; me on to. Her body was fire and silk, her breath like commands whispered into my soul.

  Hours passed. She’d broken me, rewritten me, remade me.

  Finally, as dawn began to creep through the window, she reached down one final time and squeezed the pendant around my cock once more, positioning herself over my cock. And as she sank down hard on to it she cooly whispered:

  "Now."

  In that moment, the entire night rushed back as one giant thought, one bundle of emotion—every whisper, every command, every session we'd had across weeks, months—her voice in my ear through headphones late at night, her messages that left me dizzy and aching, the way she played me through the screen before we’d even met. The glint of her watch as she toyed with me. The flash of her ring when she knew I was watching. The subtle pull of her pendant through each layer of my psyche. The inside of the limo, her finger pressing into my ass as I knelt before her, her scent on my face, her boot on my chest. The cab ride. Her soaking panties against my fingers while she laughed with the driver. Her descending upon me like a goddess. Riding my cock with grace and fury, her pendant teasing my ass while she coaxed me deeper into submission.

  All of it surged inside me.

  She pressed her finger back into me as the pendant bumped rhythmically with every grind of her hips. The sensation was overwhelming. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.

  I exploded.

  A cry echoed throughout the room, my body convulsing under hers as pleasure erupted: white-hot; overwhelming; obliterating all thought. I didn’t know where I ended and she began. I was hers. Entirely.

  I collapsed beneath her. Spent. Shaking.

  She curled in against me, wrapping my arm around her. I pulled her in close. My body still buzzing, cock still twitching, bumping into her back.

  "Good boy," she whispered.

  I held her tighter. Safe. Owned. Complete.

   

  ---

   

  My alarm was ringing.

  The hotel room was clean. My clothes were folded. My suitcase packed. A bottle of water and an aspirin on the nightstand. I was in bed… alone.

  I shook my head. Must’ve been a dream. A wild one.

  I showered, dressed, grabbed coffee from the lobby, and headed for my meeting.

  As I arrived at the client’s office and stepped into the lift a woman in a grey pencil skirt stepped in beside me. She checked her phone, then adjusted the large, silver watch on her wrist.

  My cock twitched.

  I blinked.

  She smiled.

  "Good morning."  Her voice smooth. Familiar.

  I swallowed hard as my thoughts scattered.