Links in the Chain by Maurislave on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

Two bare feet came off the ottoman; the inspection over. Their owner's expression didn't change, still completely blank except for the small upwards curl in her lips - an indication that even her empty brain felt some pleasure from her Master taking such a close look at her goods.

"How are you feeling, Laura?" He knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

Her voice was sleepy, but not slurring. Faint, but certain. "I... don't feel much, Master. But I'm happy to be here, with you."

He smiled. It was hard to understate just how out of character it was for her to be so simple, honest and affectionate. This was Laura Goldberg, queen bee of the infamous Sigma Omicron Upsilon Beta sorority. She was pretentious, haughty and had a gaze which could make even the most fashionable, prestigious student feel underdressed and unworthy. She was the top of the chain of command of a campus-wide network of bullies and divas.

But here she was. Barefoot, brainwashed, and quietly content with just being that. At the bottom of the chain of command.

He was Cyril Wellington. He was little known to the others on campus. He wasn't pledged, and he hadn't distinguished himself in sport or study. He hadn't even been the one to hypnotise Laura.

All the same, when his mouth opened, she froze with attention.

"Tell me the story of how you got here again, Slave."

"But, Master, you already-"

"I just want to hear it again."

"Okay, I..."

I was cleaning up, after a party. It was meant to be no guys allowed, but someone (probably Maria) had let it slip online. So, most of the people who hadn't gone home were upstairs. That was going to be a problem for the morning.

Down there, in the main room, it was just me and Joy. I was surprised, actually. Joy's smart, like, the smartest in the house. She had a 4.0 GPA and everything. But more than that she's the biggest party girl in the sorority, she had been wild, she'd got off with like four guys that night, and flashed a dozen more. But she was still downstairs.

Joy sobers up quick, so she was lucid. Once I'd finished with the mop, I turned around to find her leaning on the kitchen worktop. Her tits were practically hanging out of her tank top. That's what I noticed first.

"Didn't see any guys who measured up, huh?" Her voice was cracked from a night of singing and shouting, but I could sense something in it. Playful? No, it was more than that, but I couldn't work it out at the time.

I just sighed back. "Even if there was someone who wouldn't ruin my reputation, I couldn't go to bed when the juniors were still up."

"Why not? They're adults." Joy shook her entire body a bit, but it was mainly her chest that I noticed wiggling. "You can have fun, too, Laura!"

"They need me to scare off the fuckboys." I whipped my hair back for emphasis. "And it has to be me. Someone else would do it wrong."

Joy giggled, and her hand stroked my arm. She was always like that, I didn't think anything of it. "Haha, okay, fine..."

I raised my eyebrows. I was innocently curious of what would follow the pregnant pause.

"But now the fuckboys are all gone. You can have fun now."

I blinked. Joy's grip on my arm tightened. She pulled me closer. I flopped into her like a ragdoll. I practically bounced off her chest. She smiled and bit her lip. I smiled, confused.

And then she kissed me.

Now, I've kissed girls before, of course. But, like, as a bit. Or just a quick peck to show affection. Or, like, not really kissing but just putting on a show to excite some boys.

I'd never been kissed like that.

I'd never kissed back like that. Because Joy was good.

My tongue was on the roof of her mouth. I couldn't even tell where hers was. Everything dissolved into abstract sensations of cherry lipstick and warm desire. Two hands wrapped around my waist and pulled me in. My hands moved by instinct up her back to hold on to her shoulders.

We entwined.

I was on my back, held against the sofa by Joy's weight. Her top and bra were discarded and my lips were wrapped around her nipple. Her hand was between my legs. She said words, I couldn't understand them.

I was lost. I was confused. It made sense to me that the gender of the person doing those things to me wouldn't matter, but it was still weird that I'd gone along with it. All it had taken was one long night and one cheeky wink, and suddenly I was doing everything she wanted.

Did I care at the time? Of course not, I was horny as fuck.

It was at the point I was actively holding it in. Both because Joy gave no sign of stopping, and because some part of me didn't want to admit a girl could do that to me. The reason didn't matter, my entire body was practically burning with repressed need to release.

And then Joy's free hand dropped a shiny gold medallion in front of my eyes. She pulled herself back, leaving my lips open and puckered.

'Shock' isn't the right word to describe what I felt. It was beyond a shock. A shock would be if she'd taken out a whip or something. There was no expectation I could connect this to. I was about ready to burst, for my friend and a woman at that, and she'd just pulled out some silly prop from a magic show.

Maybe it was that shock. Maybe it was something else.

The reason didn't matter, my eyes followed the medallion. It felt like it wasn't even moving, like it was a single shining arc of light in front of my eyes.

I was aware of two things. First, that my libido was still nearly overwhelming. Second, and more strangely, that Joy had taken off my socks. That got to me somehow. That was the proof that she was having her way with me. The cold night air against my toes proved that I was at her mercy, even more than the weight pinning me against the bed, or the transfixing light.

Joy said things. Things I don't remember as words, but just as sensations. The sensations confirmed what I was feeling.

I was in a submissive position. I was under Joy's control. I was horny... and hypnotised.

I was under hypnosis, and desperate for release.

I would not be released from hypnosis, and the only way I could release the sexual tension was by dropping deeper. By letting go completely of conscious thought, and letting Joy reshape my mind.

She pinched my nipple. I remember that was what broke me. That was what sent me over the edge to the point where the pleasure was unbearable.

I came, and I don't remember anything else.

"... And when I woke up, I belonged to you, Master."

Cyril stretched, and removed a pair of feet from his lap which were... helping him enjoy the tale. He turned to those feet's owner. "So what do you think, Joy? Did she tell it well?"

Joy was on the sofa beside Cyril. She retracted her legs back under her butt. She had been the main party planner and secretary of the sorority. Now she was the second-to-last in the chain of command of Cyril's slaves. She answered with a sickening sweetness in her voice, as if she could flatter her Master into a promotion. "I think she got it right, Master. But she left out..."

"She left out the why." He smirked at Laura. "You might not have worked it out yet, since I haven't ordered your brain to start working again, but Joy did not hypnotise you out of her own lust. She did it under my own suggestion."

"I still enjoyed it, though." Joy added with a wink.

"Of course, you didn't even need a suggestion for that part." Cyril looked to another corner of the room. "But let's continue the tale. Tell me how you came to serve me, Joy."

Joy nodded in the same direction Cyril looked. "Well, it starts with Maria inviting me into her room..."

Maria is, in a way, the shared daughter of our entire little family. She's the same age as Laura and me, and the rest of the leadership. But she's innocent. Homeschooled, you see, and not the type who went crazy immediately after leaving the house. We adopted her into Greek life to protect her, because a girl as pretty as that needed bitches as fierce as us in her corner.

And she was always very grateful for our protection. She always had weird ways of showing it.

So I didn't really question it when I came in to her room to see it set up like some sort of budget Thai massage place.

Seriously, she had gone all-out. She had one of those fancy bulbs with adjustable colour and had drawn the curtains, so the entire place was filled with a soft, greenish light. She even had some scented candles out on her desk.

"Hey, Maria, you know we can't have candles in here, right?" I didn't really know what else to say.

Her hand covered her face. "Oh no! I-I didn't realise! Should I throw them away?"

"I mean, I guess they'll help me relax. That's what you wanted to do, right?"

Maria made some adorable noises of affirmation as she nodded.

"Then... Let's throw them out after you give me that massage you promised." I winked. She lit up and guided me towards the bed.

At her request, I took my socks off. I supposed she didn't want her bed to get dirty or something, it was a reasonable thing to ask. Then I just settled down into Maria's mattress. It was the exact same bed as every other room in the house, but somehow hers just felt softer and squishier - more accepting of my body, more ready to support my weight completely.

I felt entirely weightless.

Maria had placed a pair of headphones on my ears, so all I could hear were some soothing waves rolling along a beach. My nose was filled with muted scents which still overpowered anything else but that slight hint of flowers. My eyes were closed, so all I saw was my own imagination showing a flower-filled seaside.

But then the massage started. And my image broke.

It wasn't a normal massage. She wasn't even on my back. Her fingers were on my feet, but moving with all the care I would expect from a masseuse.

I could have said something right then, but I didn't. I think I'd thought that it was my fault for expecting something normal from Maria. She'd probably read something dumb online and followed it. I must have decided to humour her.

So I let her trace spirals on my feet. Mostly she did it with the soft touch of her fingers, but at regular intervals she would switch to her nails, shocking me with the sudden intensification of the feeling.

I didn't flinch, though. I didn't move. My body had no energy to fight back. Whenever her nails scratched my bare flesh, I had the instinct to kick out, but my muscles wouldn't follow the instruction.

And those regular reminders of the spiral pattern invaded my subconscious, I think.

I was still visualising the flower-field-by-the-sea. But now it wasn't a static image. It swirled like I was viewing it through a pool of water. No, to be specific, it spiralled. It was nice, though, to imagine I was lying down in the middle of nature's beauty, Maria guiding me into true relaxation.

At some point, I broke.

I didn't feel it. I think the cloying scents kind of masked the ticklish feeling, and maybe the noise from the headphones drowned out the alarm bells in my brain.

I don't really know how.

But I do know that when Maria removed the headphones and I opened my eyes, I was different. I hugged her, thanked her, then kissed her. I offered to give her a foot massage in return, and she accepted.

At that point I knew, for both of us, it was the done thing.

I knew we were both brainwashed. I knew that we both linked that brainwashing to our bare feet. I knew I needed to finish the job and complete your conquest of our little family.

"And once you were done, you came here to me. Just as I planned." Cyril couldn't remove the smugness from his voice. No-one else in the room minded.

"Exactly, Master. Your plan was as solid as your control, it feels like. We were all doomed from the start." There was no anger in Joy's voice. No bitterness that she had lost her free will to this man. It was like they were talking about a game. Where Laura had just blanked out her own personality, Joy had apparently embraced her new position.

That was good, but Cyril had other slaves to attend to. He turned to another girl in the corner. "Well, it's not like Maria could come up with the idea herself, is it, dear?"

Maria shook her head in a slow daze. While she had flawlessly carried out the actions that had been triggered into her, now that she was fully faced with the reality of her eternal servitude, she had broke further. She seemed barely aware of where she was.

Cyril sighed, he supposed she would need a deeper conditioning session, later.

For now...

"I could tell you the story instead, Master?"

The voice came from a beanbag at Cyril's left hand. On it sat Amy, the ex-second-in-command of the sorority, and now second-in-command of Cyril's new harem. He had known her before as the classical College rich girl. Prim, uptight, well-dressed, and disdainful of anyone who wasn't.

Like Joy, she had taken quite eagerly to her new position. But unlike her friend's playful flirtatiousness, Amy took this new life really quite seriously. She had answered his question with the earnestness of a teacher's pet.

"I suppose you are the protagonist of Maria's tale, in a way. Go on."

I was fresh off my own brainwashing. When it came to Maria, I didn't see any need to wait.

One thing I always like about Maria is how she seems shorter than she actually is. She just has a small presence to her. She's the only girl in the house I feel tall next to, and she knows I like that.

Maybe that has something to do with why, the second I demanded she take off her heels to match me, she did what I asked. She didn't even question me. I didn't even need to use a haughty voice or anything. She just kneeled down and undid the straps.

When she turned her head upwards to stand back up, I was already over her. I put my hands on her shoulders, putting in the slightest, most gentle amount of force. Just enough to tell her to stay down.

Her mouth opened with a question. Her big, innocent eyes locked on to my small, dark gaze.

Her mouth hung open.

I said only: "Stare."

I pushed myself upon her. Not physically, in the real world I just kept the tiny amount of pressure to keep her frozen in place. But in the mental world, I attacked with an empty space. I gathered up what was missing in my head - free will, revulsion towards going barefoot, highly specific standards in men - into a spiralling mass of nothing. Then I pushed it, into the form of a black spiral on the whites of my eyes.

And I forced it to cross the gap between us. To start twisting into her mind, to find the white matching its black, and erase it. To make her think like me.

Or, more appropriately, not think, in the same way I didn't.

Maria is a trusting girl, so the spiral entered her eyes easily. Her gaze quickly became a larger, cuter mirror of mine.

Maria isn't the brightest bulb, so before she could conceptualise what was happening, the hypnosis had made progress in her mind. I saw a slight, blank smile on her lips. I could feel her mind changing to match what I wanted her to be.

But Maria is still a human. We, by our nature, like to think we have free will. So she still resisted. Somewhere in her mind, there was a solid bedrock of will. It prevented the spiral from erasing her immediately.

Her brows furrowed, but her mouth couldn't move. She could only resist, not fight back.

I could still attack.

My hands moved up from her shoulders, lightly caressing her pale, perfect neck. Her lips curled up slightly more from my tickling touch.

Then my fingers moved down. I traced her collarbones and then followed the curve of her body down to her chest.

At the same time, my toes enveloped hers. I let her feel cold, bare skin against hers. It was a reminder that I was in control, that I was above her. It was also a reminder that her feet were bare. She was smiling despite her feet being unusually exposed, despite the fact she would look like some sort of weird hippie to anyone passing by.

My fingers hooked her bra, moving it a few inches out of the way so I could reach my goal.

Maria flinched. Her feet arched, lifting just a bit off the ground.

I don't know which it was that finished her off.

Was it the burst of sudden, erotic pleasure? The feeling of goodness to overwhelm her brain's negative resistance, which then synthesised with the positive thoughts of love (of being barefoot) and obedience (to Master) I was trying to instil in her and took over her brain?

Or was it the fact her feet lifted off the ground? The sudden break of a circuit, a weakness in her stance to mirror the weakness in her mind - a crack in her composure which undermined the wall of resistance in her mind and sent it crashing into ruins?

I don't care that much which it was.

But she relented. She broke out into a full, gleeful smile. Her hands helped mine bring her pleasure as I gave her instructions and listened to her repeat them to confirm her understanding.

We both obeyed.

At this point, Maria was smiling in recognition, nodding along to Amy's words. Amy, for her part, was sprawled along Cyril's lap. Her painted toenails wiggled towards their target, ready to do the job she was already fully conditioned to do.

Cyril put a hand in their way. "Not yet, dear. I want to hear one last story."

"Do I have to? It would be more efficient to just serve you now, you know the story..."

"Amy, I order you to tell me the story of how I brainwashed you."

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she blinked. "Well, I was in the class I share with you. Psych 302, I think?"

"That's right."

"And I decided to take a nap. You told me you'd wake me if the prof was going to ask questions."

"He didn't."

Amy sighed. "Thanks, Master. Anyway, when I did wake up, I was in an empty room somewhere."

"An abandoned lab in the main department."

Amy sighed. Again. "Thanks, Master. Anyway, I was strapped to this weird metal recliner chair. There was a dome above my head, like a hairdryer at a salon but covered in wires and flashing with LED lights..."

"Why did you stop?" Cyril arched an eyebrow.

Amy looked around the room. "Look, we all know this part. We all did it for our conditioning. Hairdryer thing lowered, I struggled but couldn't move, lights started flashing, started getting a weird tickling sensation in my brain, my brain shuts down, you run me through the commands, I repeat them back to you, I'm your slave."

The other girls in the room nodded their agreement. Cyril laughed. "Okay, that's fair enough. But you missed an important detail." He gave her a loving stroke along her left sole for emphasis.

"Oh yeah, I was barefoot when I was in the chair, because..."

"... Brainwashed slaves are barefoot." Echoed the other three girls in the room.

---

Hey anon, time for your foot fetish hypno story!

This time I decided to combine two things I am familiar with through exposure but not fully conversant in: American university settings, and foot fetish things. The former lent itself to a slightly hornier story than usual, which actually made the latter slightly easier because I could lean on the general tropes and just write general horny. I feel like it turned out well, but maybe there were a few too many things going on.

Anyway, credit to CyrilQWellington, obviously, for the inspiration.

And credit as always to my hypno-writing TA Dormiria for proofreading.