A sequel to Fixation...

They are lithe, dark, beautiful women, and they sit at night on the covered back porch of a beach cabana. They wear little to cover their bodies and nothing on their feet.

Regarding said feet, one of the beauties has the toes of the other in her mouth. She sucks lovingly, longingly on them with practiced skill and ease.

"Are you awake or 'tized," asks Stella, the recipient of the worship. "I can't remember."

With a last, lingering tongue caress around a toe, the other pulls away so that she can speak.

"I'm awake, Mistress," Naz says. "But I am still very much under your control and will do whatever you say. And, of course, I can be easily put in a trance, if you wish."

"Yes, having you under right now would probably make this easier. Slave: Sleep now."

Naz's eyes briefly glaze over before fluttering closed and staying that way.

"Can you hear me, Slave?"

"...Yes, Mistress."

"Good. When you wake up, I will be gone. You will be free of my control, with all of your memories back, and none of the implanted triggers I gave you having any further affect. I won't make you feel one way or another about any of this. You can feel about it however you're going to feel. Just know that, while I think you're great, I feel like I've taken this as far as it's going to go. I need something different, something more. Well, that's about it. Count backwards from 20, then wake up."

As Naz begins counting backwards, Stella gets up and walks onto the beach, then disappears into the darkness.

Soon, Naz blinks, shakes her head, and then comes fully awake. She sighs with the onset of awareness.

"Really? Dumped by hypnosis? How lame is that? Well, it is what it is. I wonder if there are any other hypno-mistresses around here looking for a suggestible, barefoot slave."

Naz ponders her predicament. What can she do? She wants to be hypnotized, to have her mind controlled, to serve and obey a sexy mistress, specifically as a barefoot and brainwashed slave. Now that Stella no longer wants to dominate her that way, who will she find as a replacement?

There is, of course, the Internet and all its vast resources. But Naz doesn't relish the thought of the searching, the seeking, the trying out...basically the everything of starting over.

As she mulls over what she will do, she absently strokes her bare sole with her fingers. The self-caress elicits a small shudder of pleasure. It would feel so much better if the touch was Stella's, teasing her while she was blissfully entranced. It would feel even better still if she was attending to Stella's lovely feet under the hypnotic compulsion of her mistress's command.

But neither is the case. She is here alone, wide awake, and in complete control of her own mind. And that just won't do.

Then, she remembers. She remembers that before she ever wanted to be submissive, to serve and obey Stella, she wanted to be the exact opposite. She wanted to hypnotize and brainwash Stella into the doting, barefoot slave that she herself became and now desires above all else to be.

Well, isn't that interesting. How could she have forgotten that? Obviously, Stella brainwashed that desire right out of her head. She must only be remembering it now that she is no longer under Stella's control.

So, does she still want that? Actually, no, she doesn't. Maybe Stella continues to have some kind of hold on her, or maybe not. Either way, she wants only to be back under that dominating influence. And not just anyone's, only Stella's.

Well, she does have an option. It isn't the best one. No, it certainly isn't. But she has no other prospects at the moment. So she'll choose to do it.

She makes a call, asking if she can pay a visit. The answer is yes. With a heartfelt thanks, she hangs up, gets herself together, and leaves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Naz arrives at a house. She knows it well, it and its owner. She takes a deep breath. This is going to work. It's going to be worth it...right?

She knocks on the door. A moment later, it opens.

"Hello, Cyril," Naz says.

"Hello, Naz," Cyril says.

He is a nondescript man with bedazzling eyes and a compelling voice.

He ushers his guest inside, then closes the door. Without being told, Naz removes all footwear. Once barefoot, she follows him to his den. He sits down and offers her a seat. She takes it.

"Is it just me, or do I only see you when you need something?" Cyril says.

"I guess it has been like that for a little while," Naz says. "Sorry."

"It's okay. So, who is she?"

"She?"

"Who is the gorgeous woman that you want me to help you brainwash this time?"

"Ah, right to the point. Got it. Her name is Stella."

"Tell me what you want me to do to her and why."

"So, you'll help me?"

"My help comes with a price."

"I know. I'll pay it."

"You will, indeed. Now, tell me."

Naz tells him. Cyril listens without reaction. 

"I'll help you," he says when she is done.

"Thank you!"

"No thanks are necessary. Just payment."

"Now?"

"Now, as well as later."

Naz nods knowingly. She has a good idea of the price, though not exact knowledge.

"Ready when you are," she says.

Naz blinks and shakes her head. She realizes that she has woken up, which means that she had just been asleep. Or no, not asleep. Hypnotized.

She doesn't know what just happened, or more accurately, she doesn't remember. But she has a pretty good idea. Cyril is one hell of a hypnotist, which is why she's here. If he doesn't want her to remember going under, or anything she said or did while in a trance, then she isn't going to remember. If she isn't okay with that, then she shouldn't be here. But she is okay with it. In fact, if Stella had been the hypnotist, she would crave it.

Looking around, she sees that she is still is Cyril's den. She is alone. Her bare feet are shiny and glistening on an ottoman in front of her. In her lap resides a towel. A nearby clock shows her that more than three hours have passed.

So, her first installment for Cyril's help has been paid. Now, what? She gets a feeling. There's something she should do. Something Cyril wants her to do. She uses the towel to wipe her feet clean. Then, she gets up, exits the den, and goes to a nearby room.

Entering a doorway, the first thing she sees is another pair of bare feet. They are lovely and almost instantly recognizable: They belong to Stella. As Naz walks fully into the room, she sees her former mistress sittings in a semi-reclined lounger. Her back is mostly upright, and feet are elevated. Straps secure her arms and legs to the chair. A gag covers her mouth. Her eyes are open, and they dart around the room in a panic.

Naz approaches the chair, savoring the arousing site of the beautiful, bound, barefoot woman therein. Stella's eyes find hers and lock onto them. Now, both women stare at each other, wide-eyed, though for very different reasons.

Though Naz has no memory of this chair, she has knowledge of it. She knows it has both mechanical and electronic components. And she knows how to use them. She nods to herself, understanding that Cyril has implanted this insight into her mind. And in all likelihood, he did so when she herself was in the very position that Stella is in now.

On a nearby shelf, Naz finds a remote control. She picks it up and points it at the chair. Stella squirms against her bonds and shakes her head vehemently. Does she know what's going to happen? Does she know what the chair does? Or, is she simply fighting to break out of a strange and scary situation?

Naz doesn't like seeing her soon-to-be-again mistress under duress. She presses a button on the remote.

The lounger comes to life with whirs, hums, and blinking lights. From behind the headrest, a thin mechanical arm unfolds itself, slowly extending up over the back of the chair. Attached to the arm is a small, sleek helmet embedded with circuitry and LED lights.

The helmet moves across the headrest, then begins to descend. In a few seconds, it slides over the top of Stella's head. Its LEDs begin to flash slowly, rhythmically.

Stella continues struggling. But not for very long. Soon, she begins twitching in time with the flashing lights. Her eyes lose their focus. They start to droop drowsily. Then, they close and stay that way. Her body continues twitching for a short time, but then, even that stops.

Naz has watched the whole process with a combination of fascination and utter arousal. Now she knows she must wait a little while longer. Seconds stretch on for what feels like interminable hours until, at last, she knows it's time.

She presses another button on the remote. The helmet stops flashing. It retracts and slowly moves back to its stowed position behind the headrest. Stella remains as she was. Naz isn't entirely sure if that is asleep, hypnotized, or something else. Though she thinks it is likely hypnotized, or a state akin to it.

"Can you hear me?" Naz says, removing the gag that covers Stella's mouth.

"...Yes," Stella says in a monotone drawl.

"Listen carefully: You do want to be my hypno-mistress. You do want me to be your barefoot, brainwashed slave. Understand?"

"...I do want to be your hypno-mistress. I do want you to be my barefoot, brainwashed slave."

"You never ended our relationship."

"...I never ended our relationship."

"Somehow, I broke free of your control. As soon as possible, you need to hypnotize me, and brainwash me back into your doting plaything."

"...Somehow, you broke free of my control. As soon as possible, I need to hypnotize you, and brainwash you back into my doting plaything."

"Excellent," Naz says. "Now we can go back to the way things were, the way they need to be."

Naz puts the remote back on the shelf where she found it. Then, she undoes the straps that bind Stella to the chair.

"At the count of three, you will wake up. You won't remember being hypnotized, nor anything that led up to it. You'll feel relaxed, refreshed, and very horny. You'll want to get started with me right away. One...two...three."

Now it's Stella's turn to blink, shake her head, and come fully awake. She sits up, sees Naz, and smiles desirously.

"You've been a naughty little slave, trying to leave me like you did," Stella says, as she stands up.

"So I have. What are you going to do about it?"

"Sit in the chair."

"What?"

"You heard me. Sit in the chair."

"How do you know about the chair?"

"I'm not sure...but I do. In you go."

"I don't want to. I mean, I understand that I have no choice in being placed back under your control. But, don't you want to hypnotize me at home? With a pocket watch? Or, better yet, with part of your body?"

The memories of being hypnotized as she has described brings forth an involuntary sigh from Naz.

"For a supposed submissive, you're awfully willful," Stella says. "Let me explain how this works: I command, you obey. My command is to sit in the chair. So do it."

Naz frowns. This is what she wants, but not how and where she wants it. She doesn't want it to involve Cyril, any more than it already has. She wants to go home. She wants Stella to control her mind there, in private.

She meets Stella's gaze. It is steely and unyielding. It tells her that this is how it will go. Stella will get what she wants--which is what Naz has brainwashed her to want. Frankenstein meets her monster.

Naz climbs into the chair. Stella begins strapping her in.

"But, you're not into bondage," Naz says.

"Being into it isn't the point. I don't trust you. Not until you're thoroughly brainwashed into submission again. Though I will say...bound and barefoot is a good look for you."

Naz resists the urge to utter an empathetic likewise.

Stella finishes restraining her soon-to-be-again slave. She finds the remote and presses the button.

Even before the helmet slides into place over her head, Naz begins to tremble. Is it fear that causes it? Anticipation? Desire? All three are likely.

Out of her peripheral, she sees movement behind Stella. Cyril enters the room. Stella notices him, too.

"Hello, Cyril," she says with a smile. "Thanks for capturing my little runaway for me."

"No thanks needed," Cyril says. "Just--"

Payment, thinks Naz knowingly, just before he says it and just as the helmet activates.

This isn't how she wanted it, not here, and not in Cyril's presence. But this is how it's happening.

And then, very quickly, conscious thought becomes difficult. Sensations bombard her. She is tickled. She is caressed. She is massaged. Her arousal grows. It blossoms.

She is now past thinking or knowing anything. Still, aware or not, she is getting what she wanted. Desired. Needed. Under the power of the machine, she sinks down into a state of utter suggestibility and submission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They are lithe, dark, beautiful women, and they sit at night on the covered back porch of a beach cabana. They wear little to cover their bodies and nothing on their feet.

Regarding said feet, one of the beauties has the toes of the other in her mouth. She sucks lovingly, longingly on them with practiced skill and ease.

Stella, the recipient of the worship, sighs contentedly. She gazes lustfully at her slave, Naz, who is deeply hypnotized and mindlessly dedicated to her task.

This is how it should be. The way it was. The way it will be for a long, long time. Yes, there is the matter of payment. She owes Cyril for his aid in getting Naz back. When he calls, mistress and slave will both answer.

But that will be when it will be. For now, there is nothing more, nor different, that Stella could ever want.