Paul picked up the phone against his better judgement. He liked to think he was in control of his actions. He knew there was no reason to call Her. It was simply just a fantasy that existed solely in his head. He thought he should just beat off, shoot his load, and forget about it. As simple as that.  Nice and easy, no head games, no fear of Her taking control, but ultimately, no satisfaction.

Was it really that much more satisfying to be seduced, teased, and even enslaved by her voice and her feminine charms. He tried to tell himself no, but there he sat with the phone in his hands. Everything in his body was telling him to put it down, but there he sat on the verge of calling again.

She had told him before that he would become addicted to her voice. That he would come to find her irresistible, when his entire being told him he could resist her. That her web of seduction was inescapable once he was entrapped.  That he would look upon her as the sexiest, most beautiful woman/Goddess he had ever known. Were these merely suggestions he had come to believe because
of a couple of so-called “hypnotic trances” she had claimed to put him under?   Or, was she just that sure of herself and the effect she had on men?  Maybe it was both.

The rationalization was kicking in again. Paul thought, “what could it hurt just to listen to her voice on the answering machine.” God, he felt like such a pervert sometimes when he called just to hear her voice. How weird is that?? The funny thing is that it excited him. Not just some ordinary excitement, but a butterflies in your stomach, stirring in your crotch kind of excitement that he had come to enjoy immensely. I’ll hang up if she answers, he thought. He lost the argument every time.

He thought the answering machine would pick up on the second ring, but when it rang a third time it was anything but the answering machine.

“Hello?” It was her sexy voice. Paul froze for a split second and then automatically without a second thought he responded, “Woof, woof, woof.”

Mistress Marquesa chuckled and said, “Very good slave-boy. I see your conditioning is working. You called right on time, and that bark is music to my ears. You are becoming such a good boy.”

Paul didn’t know how she would be expecting his call, let alone saying he was right on time. As for the barking, it was something he started a couple of weeks earlier on Mistress Marquesa’s suggestion. She thought it would be cute for him to identify himself with a bark the second he heard her voice whether
live or on her answering machine. He remembered thinking, absolutely not, when she suggested it.  But instead of saying no, he found himself nodding in agreement when she said it would please her greatly. “What can it hurt?” He thought. And after a couple of weeks it had become automatic, almost natural
to bark for his Mistress. His rationalization was that if he didn’t want to do it he wouldn’t. She wasn’t going to make him do anything he didn’t want to.

Paul obviously had little clue as to just how much of his resolve Mistress Marquesa had skillfully dissolved away. Whenever he caught himself following one of her commands or instructions his reasoning was always the same. What the heck. I’m not hurting anybody. It’s no big deal, if it was something I really objected to I’d tell her no. Paul didn’t realize that he had never
said no.


Even Mistress Marquesa’s induced amnesia had worked. He obviously didn’t remember that he had been programmed to call at this very time. During his “chat” with Mistress Marquesa last week she had learned that he watched ESPN Sportscenter every afternoon at 3:30pm. She had suggested that on Monday afternoon when he heard the opening music for the sports highlight show it would sound a bell in his mind. It was very distinctive music, very recognizable. When he heard it he would begin thinking of his Mistress.   Thoughts of how beautiful and sexy she is would dominate his mind to the point that he would find his favorite sports show distracting. He would feel compelled to turn off the television and call her to hear her sexy voice. He was told to call at 3:45pm. Here he was, right on time and he didn’t even know it. He was becoming a better conditioned slave than even the Mistress
thought possible.

“Slave boy, how are you today??”

“Fine, Mistress. I guess I was just calling to say hello. I didn’t expect you to answer. I won’t keep you long.” He saying that out of courtesy, but he really didn’t want the conversation to end. He had been hard since he heard her say “Good boy.” Another conditioned response Mistress Marquesa had
implanted post-hypnotically.

“Paulie…you don’t mind if I call you Paulie, do you?”

“Uh…no I guess not.” Secretly he hated it.

“Good boy…good slave boy. Now Paulie, uh slave Paulie, today I want you to serve, I want you to serve me.”

These were the words Mistress used to induce near immediate hypnosis in Paul. The past couple of weeks she had worked at his conditioning to get him to the point where the mere mention of a post-hypnotic phrase would entrance him almost immediately. What took more than 30 minutes 3 weeks ago now took mere seconds. Even Mistress Marquesa was impressed with her handy work.

“I want you to serve me slave-boy…you do want to serve don’t you slave paul?   You do want to be my “good boy” and please me…isn’t that what you want more than anything in the world?’

“Yes Mistress.” Paul replied in a trance induced monotone.

“Where are you and what are you wearing?”

“I’m in my living room, and I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”

“I see. It’s a warm day today here in Los Angeles slave-boy. Perfect weather for a slave boy who wants to ‘serve me.’ I would imagine you’re feeling very warm too. Aren’t you feeling a bit warm?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“I thought so. It’s almost unbearably warm. Don’t you feel like taking off your shirt and pants? You’ll feel so much more comfortable.”

“I’m o.k. Mistress.”

“Comfortable…so much more comfortable…cool and comfortable without your clothes. So hot wearing so many clothes…so cool and comfortable naked for your Mistress. So comfortable…so right…naked and cool for Your Mistress.”

Paul felt himself getting more and more uncomfortable he unbuttoned his shirt and kicked off his shoes.

“What are you doing slave boy?”

“Mistress, I’m really kind of warm…I think I’d be more comfortable if I was naked while talking to You.”

Mistress replied in her sexiest voice, “Good boy…good obedient slave boy.   When you obey, you are a good boy. You want to be a good boy for Mistress Marquesa.”

The onslaught of the Good boy suggestion bombarded Paul’s senses…his cock was getting harder and harder and he was falling deeper and deeper under her spell. His cock was pointing straight up and he was as excited as ever been with a woman. She was turning him to sexual jelly. Soon he would refuse her nothing.

Mistress continued her artful manipulation of this overmatched male. “Slave boy, did I tell you I bought new panties? New sexy panties.”

This was another post-hypnotic suggestion that Paul responded to beautifully.  He went to his room and in his dresser he retrieved a pair of red satin thong bikini panties he had purchased last week at Mistresses suggestion. He bought them thinking he would send them as a gift to her at a later date. He put them away and forgot about them. Until now. He put them on and was quite a sight with his engorged cock sticking out the top of the panty waist band. He never thought of how ridiculous he looked. His only thoughts were of his Mistress. How she excited him to levels he never knew existed and how he wanted, no, craved, to please her. He wasn’t consciously thinking of how the
panties excited him, but his subconscious had him a frenzied lust, a trance of sexual lust.

Paul was not a cross-dresser, and Mistress Marquesa had no desire to use this particular slave as one of her cross-dressing experiments. But, he had said something to her once when he scoffed at her mentioning one of her slaves wearing panties. This was in his macho, pre-slave-conditioning days. He had actually laughed at the thought of a woman making a man wear panties. Here he was, red satin panties and all, but in his mind she wasn’t “making” him do anything at all. In his mind if she had forced him to do it he would have said no. He was doing this just because…well…just…well just because.

She continued, “where are you now slave boy??”

I’m in my bedroom lying on my bed, naked except for a pair of red satin panties I thought I would be more comfortable in.”

“Good boy…good obedient little slave boy. Remember…the more obedient you are…the more pleasure you feel. The more you please me…the happier you are. Repeat that for me.”

“The more obedient I am the more pleasure I feel. The more I please You…the
happier I am.”

“Now slave-boy do you have the panties I sent you?’

“Yes Mistress they’re right here in my night stand.”

“Get them and put them over your head and in your face.”

Paul did as he was told and the Mistress proceeded.

“Breathe in the fragrant aroma of Your Mistress. Feel your will drain with every breath as you submit to the powerful aroma of your Mistress. You crave this scent…you are addicted to this scent. Stroke yourself and smell…stroke yourself and breathe. Feel your excitement…smell your mistress. Feel your hard cock and smell your Mistress. The Mistress is your excitement. Make the connection slave boy. Inhale deeply…deeper…deeper…feel your cock get harder and harder…only your Mistress can excite you like this. You are becoming addicted to My scent…you want more…you crave My aroma…love the smell of My pussy. You have never felt such excitement. Breathe in…breathe in…that smell is your
excitement…soon just a whiff of My fragrant panties will send you into a lustful frenzy. You want to be controlled by My panties. You want to get to the point where a simple command and a whiff of My panties will cause you to shoot your load with absolutely no manual stimulation. You want to be a slave to My panties. You want to be My panty slave.”

Paul was stroking wildly…thrashing about on his bed. Still in a trance, yet wildly excited, breathing heavy and stroking his cock raw…he could feel the sting of rawness at the tip, but he didn’t care.

“Slave boy…you do want to be my good boy don’t you?’

“Yes Mistress.”

Sometime in the next week you will hear the words, “clean shaven.” When you hear the words “clean shaven” you will feel an irresistible compulsion to “clean” yourself for me. You want to shave your cock and balls smooth for Your mistress. You do not want any unsightly hair on your shaft or around
your balls. What will you do when you hear the words, “clean shaven, slave boy?”

“I will want to shave my cock and balls clean for you mistress. I want you to see my cock and ball without any unsightly hair.”

“Good boy…very good little slave boy. You have pleased me today. How do you feel?”

I am always very excited to talk with you, but I still don’t believe you think you can get me to do all the things you say those so-called “slaves” do for you.

“Oh…we’ll see Paulie…remember to be a good boy and watch your Sportscenter show next Monday. Maybe we’ll have a chance to talk again soon. Good bye slave boy.”

“Woof…woof…woof.”