by Morgan Wolfe
“Hello,” she said. “I’m at nine-fifteen Fairmount, room two-eleven. We need the police. My mother just tied up my boyfriend and poured gasoline over everything! She was going to burn him alive.… No, she’s tied up herself now, but… look, just send someone. It’s complicated.” She began to laugh. “No, no. I’m not high but I think I may be a little hysterical. Please hurry!… Thank you!”
Straitjacket
Three months later they drove to the facility where Emma had been sent. It was a two hour drive and they took Woody’s car. “I’m glad you’re coming with me,” said Candi. “But you didn’t have to, you know.”
“I want to. You need some support in this. It’s is a lot for one person to shoulder. Besides, I wanted to show her that I don’t hold a grudge. That might speed her recovery.”
“Woody,” said Candi, squeezing his arm. “You’re so sweet.”
“Here’s our turn.” He steered on to a side road past a sign that said “Harrow Hospital for the Criminally Insane.”
The two waited for Emma to be brought to the private family room for their visit. The door had a glass window where an attendant would check on them every few minutes. An attendant showed them a buzzer to be used if there was a “problem.”
They sat tense and nervous until a nurse and two stocky female attendants brought Emma in. She was wearing the orange uniform worn by all inmates. That was shocking enough but both were disturbed by the sight of Candi’s mother in a straitjacket.
“Surely that’s not necessary,” objected Woody.
“Ms. Stern has violent outbursts from time to time,” said the nurse crisply. “She had one just last night.”
“But this is her daughter!”
“I’m sorry. Doctor’s orders.”
Candi hugged her mother. “Oh, Mom, it’s so good to see you!” she said with resolute cheer. Emma let herself be hugged but when Woody tried to touch her, she jumped backward. “Doan leh hm tuh me! Kee hm ‘way!”
Startled, Woody realized that they’d been so distracted by the straitjacket that they hadn’t noticed Emma had a rubber bit gag between her teeth. “Good God,” he exclaimed. “Why the hell have you gagged the woman? Don’t tell me that’s necessary.”
“Last week, she nearly bit an attendant’s ear off,” said the nurse. “I’m truly sorry. I realize this is very disturbing to you, but when she’s out of her cell, we have to take precautions.” The nurse and attendants left the room, although one, a sturdy black woman, stayed just outside the door. “Call if you need me,” she told them.
Candi and Emma sat at a plain plastic table in soft plastic chairs. Woody dragged his chair a little distance off. The last thing he wanted to do was agitate the woman. He noticed that everything in the room was made of soft materials or bolted down. Emma’s hair, which she had always been careful to keep in a modern, stylish cut, had grown long and shaggy. She’d lost weight and her face was drawn and lined.
“Mom, I know this is hard,” Candi said. “But you’re going to get better. I just know it. I mean, it’s not like you actually injured anyone. The judge said you can be released as soon as you’re… uh…”
“Thane?” sneered Emma. “Ath thoon ath I thane?” She fell into a high, incoherent mumble though the gag and Woody realized that she was laughing. “Thath the prollem. I tham thane! He puh me heah. He did!”
“Who did? Woody? Oh Mom. You’re wrong. Woody wants you to get well.”
“He ith ebil, Canthi. EBIL He huth oo.”
“Dr. Starke,” said Woody, unable to keep silent. “I’m not evil and I love your daughter. I would never do anything to hurt Candi!”
Emma looked at Candi imploringly. Her eyes were wide and wild. “Doan lithen thoo him, Canthi. He dethroy oo! Doan oo thee? Hee may mee thay thoth thingth.”
“Made you say what things?”
“He may mee thay he conthol my mine to Cocketh an’ otherth.”
Woody stood. “I made you say I controlled your mind? You mean when you had that breakdown in front of Dr. Crockett and the committee? Assuming I could control you mind, why would I want you to say so?”
“To may me soun clathy! Thath why!”
“I had you say I control your mind to make you sound crazy? But that’s the problem, Dr. Starke. You do think I can control your mind.”
“Buh I nether thay tho! No one belief me. Yoo may me!”
“I controlled your mind so you would say I controlled your mind so you would look crazy. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yeth! Yeth!”
“And I suppose you’re going to say I made you ambush me in my apartment?”
“Yeth! Tho I geh puh heah, in looey bin!”
“But you almost burned me alive, Dr. Starke. If it hadn’t been for Candi, you would have!”
“You plan whole thin. You made Canthi come, safe yoo!”
“You mean you think I sent some mental command to Candi to show up at my apartment so she would save me? That’s crazy. Assuming this was all some scheme of mine, if she’d been two minutes late, the place would have been an inferno!”
“Yoo may mistay!”
“I what?”
“She said you made a mistake,” said Candi.
“Yoo time wath off.”
“What?”
“Mother says your timing was off. Mom, I’m sorry but that’s ridiculous. I decided to come to Woody’s apartment on my own. He didn’t ‘command’ me.”
“Yoo doan know he contro yoo! He too cleveh.” Tears spouted from Emma’s eyes. “He ebil, Canthi! EBIL! Geh way from him. He may yoo his bith.”
“He’ll make me what?”
“His BITH!” Emma screamed through the gag. “His bith, his bith.” She jumped from her chair and charged Woody, trying to butt him with her head. The door flew open and the attendant ran in, followed by two more. They seized Emma and held her still.
“I’m sorry, folks,” said the black attendant. “But this visit is over. She’s out of control again.” They wrestled Emma out of the room. “His bith, bith, BITH!” she screamed as she was dragged down the hallway.
Candi began to cry. “Oh Woody!” She pressed against his chest and he put his arms around her. “I should never have come,” he said. “If I hadn’t been here, she might not have come apart. Go ahead and cry, baby. We’ll find a place to have a bite and then drive back.”
Daisy, Happy and Brownie
“It’s good to be home,” said Candi as they walked through the front door to her place.
“Sure is,” agreed Woody.
She hurried toward her room. “Now I can put it back on! I felt positively naked not wearing it the last few hours.”
“Well, that wouldn’t have done,” said Woody. He raised his voice. “Hey! We’re back!”
Tiffany and Sandra came running out of their rooms with wide grins just as Candi emerged from hers. ‘
“Get your clothes off,” Woody said. “I’ve got presents for you three.”
“Present!” said Sandra, unbuttoning her blouse. “I love presents!”
“What is it?” asked Tiff, pulling down her skirt.
“You didn’t mention anything about presents,” said Candi, shrugging off her top.
“It’s a surprise,” said Woody. He went into the kitchen and fetched a small sack from a cupboard, then settled on the sofa as the three girls stripped. A moment later, they were all naked except for their dog collars.
The three were a glorious sight. Candi’s round breasts contrasted with Tiffany’s small, pert ones and Sandra’s large, full ones. Candi was the tallest, with long blonde hair and a muscular build from tennis and swimming. Tiffany was thin and small, wearing oversize glasses, her red hair in a short pixie cut. Sandra was voluptuous, her plump body full of the promise of earthy pleasures. All of them had shaven vaginas. On her left hip, each had a tattoo of a marionette dancer suspended on strings.
“Sit,” said Woody.
Candi, Sandra and Tiff got on their knees.
>
“Lie down.”
The three lay on their stomachs.
“Roll over.”
They rolled onto their backs.
“Beg.”
They got back on their knees and put their palms together as if in prayer. “Pleasssse,” said all three in union.
“Good girls.” Woody rose and crossed the room to the three. “Open wide,” he told Candi, who promptly obeyed. He took a puppy munchie from the bag and put it in her mouth. As she ate it, he did the same with Sandra and Tiff.
“Chewy,” said Candi, working on the munchie.
“Good for your teeth,” Woody told her. “Now, I’ve decided that when the three of you are wearing your collars, you need to go by different names.”
“What’s wrong with the ones we have?” asked Tiff.
“They’re women’s names. You bitches need dog names.” He opened his hand to show three dog tags. “So I got you these. They attach to the ring in the front of your collar.” He stood in front of Tiff. “You’re always in a good mood, so from now on, you’re ‘Happy.’ Go put it on.”
Tiffany, or rather Happy, scurried to her room. Woody stood in front of Sandra. “I’m going to call you ‘Brownie,’ on account of your hair.”
“Thank you, Sir,” said the newly christened Brownie. She left to put on her tag.
“What am I, Sir?” said Candi.
“Well, at first I thought I’d just leave your name the same, since you’re sweet as candy.” Candi blushed happily. “But then I decided that although it fits you, nobody calls their dog ‘Candy,’ so from now on your name is ‘Daisy.’ You like it?”
“Oh yes, Sir!” She took the tag and ran to attach it.
A few minutes later, Daisy, Happy and Brownie were back in the living room. “Sit,” Woody instructed. They quickly got to their knees. “Now, has everyone had a shower today?”
The three nodded.
“Washed your hair? Used mouthwash?”
They nodded.
“Had an enema?”
“Oh!” said Brownie in dismay.
“What?”
“I forgot.”
“Well, go take care of that now. Happy, give her a hand. It’ll go faster.”
The two girls rose. “And Brownie?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Paddle for you.”
Brownie bit her lip. “Yes, Sir,” she said unhappily.
Woody went back to the sofa and sat. “Unzip me and get to work, Daisy.”
The girl started to rise. “No,” said Woody. “Don’t get up.”
“But, Sir, you’re across the room. How am I suppose to get to you?”
“What are you wearing?” Woody said impatiently.
“My collar.”
“And what kind of collar?”
“A dog col— Oh!” Daisy got on her hands and knees and crawled to Woody. She unzipped his pants and tenderly pulled out his already stiffening cock. She put her mouth to it and licked delicately.
“Go slow,” Woody said. “I don’t want to cum. I plan on doing Happy’s ass and I need to stay hard.”
“Yes, Sir.… Sir?”
“What is it? Keep licking.”
Candi put her mouth around the crown of Woody’s cock. “Aw you eveh goin let Moh out uv looey bin?”
“I’m sorry, Daisy, but her mind is too strong to be completely controlled. And she’s smart. Your mother is a dangerous woman.”
“Tho she theah reth of huh life?”
“Afraid so. The rest of her life.”
“Oh. Too bath.”
“Yeah, too bad.”
“Wha abow uth?”
“Uth?”
“Yeh, uth.”
“Oh, ‘us!’ You and me?”
“Aw of uf. Browie and Haffy too.”
“Well, this house is a little small for a man and his three bitches. Anyway, we can’t keep living together. Sooner or later that’s going to attract attention. For the sake of my career, I can’t have that. We might rent a duplex, live two on one side, two on the other, still spend evenings together. Be nicer if I could buy a duplex, but that’s not possible.”
“Why noh?”
“I don’t have the money. I think it’s time for you three to go to work.”
“Wee in school. Wee doan haf ow degreeth yeth.”
“Well, as to school, I’m not sure that isn’t a waste of time. It’s not like you girls are going to have careers.”
“We not?” said Candi in dismay.
“No. Not the kind you go to college for.”
Happy and Brownie returned to the room. “I’m clean now, Sir,” said Brownie contritely.
“Fine. Sit. Not you, Happy. Go bring me my tablet. I want to look up something on Craig’s List.”
Happy fetched the tablet. “Good,” said Woody. “Now tie Brownie to the table for her beating.” The bondage wasn’t really necessary but Woody had discovered that he really liked tied-up girls. He put at least one of them in restraint almost every evening, usually suspended from one of several heavy hooks he’d screwed into the ceiling. Sometimes he did all three of them. They looked cute hanging there, like wooden marionettes waiting for their master to make them dance.
He went to Craig’s List and began checking prices for escort services while Daisy sucked his cock with slow languor. Across the room, Happy was laying into Brownie with the wooden paddle he’d bought to use on Emma. The sound of Daisy’s slurping and the hard SLAP! of the paddle on Brownie’s soft flesh and her agonized shrieks made a pleasing background music. He could listen to it for hours.
The End
FROM THE AUTHOR: My name’s Morgan Wolfe. I'm a guy. I've been a truck driver, short order cook and ad copywriter. I don't do hearts & flowers bedtime stories. I write raw, edgy erotica about Alpha males and the women who love them. Some readers don't like my mind—which is dirty—but no one has ever said I don't do a smoky scene. C'mon, take a walk on the wild side!
Thanks for reading Hypno Harem. If you are interested in Woody’s further adventures in the dark art of mind control, let me know at:
[email protected]
Also by Morgan Wolfe:
Taking My “Best Friend’s” Little Brat
For years I'd watched my pal Jerry’s child Harper grow up beside my own daughter. I loved them both, even though I knew the one who called me "Daddy" was his and not mine.
But when I learned my so-called friend was responsible for the break-up of my second marriage, I began to think of payback. Then when eighteen-year-old Harper came on to me not once but twice in a way hard to ignore, something dark and dangerous stirred inside me.
I’m a decent man – or was. She was an innocent girl – or was. I bound her, forced her, humiliated her, used her mouth, her virgin cunt, her tight asshole. My rage against my onetime pal was just an excuse. It turned out I liked what I was doing. I couldn’t stop. I used her in shameful ways – again and again.
And yet… she always wanted more.
I never knew revenge could be so sweet.
TAKING MY BEST FRIEND’S LITTLE BRAT - Excerpt:
Suddenly I realized the truth. The brat had come downstairs and found me asleep. She’d unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock for inspection and amusement. When I stirred, she’d dropped it and slipped next to me like she was cuddling.
It came to me that Bud’s daughter was as horny as her old man and just as free of conscience. He felt entitled to play with anyone I was married to. She felt entitled to play with me. I lashed out and slapped her full across the face, so forcefully she lost her balance and toppled off the couch.
That rattled me. “Oh my God, Harper! I’m so… I didn’t mean to…”
She got on her knees but stayed on the floor, just in front of me. Her cheek was rosy red but her eyes weren’t teary; they were bright and alert.
“I deserved it,” she said calmly. “I read what you wrote. Your letter to Daddy.”
She dipped her head and started a
t the floor as if ashamed for him. “He’s like a slut. Like a slut that’s a man. He thinks I don’t know, but I do. It’s why Mom divorced him. He’ll fuck anyone.”
I didn’t want to hear this and I found myself defending Bud, though not with complete conviction. “No, Harper. Bud isn’t… He’s not all bad.”
“Bad enough,” she said, eyes still on the floor. “And so am I. I’m a slut too.” She looked up. “And I want you to treat me like one.”
“No,” I said with authority. “Absolutely not.” I started to rise.
She lunged forward, flipped away my robe, grabbed my cock, put her mouth around it and began to suck. If I’d had any doubt of her inexperience before, I didn't now. It was clear she had no idea what to do. I wasn’t excited but I was alarmed at the way her teeth gripped my penis.
More than alarmed, though, I was angry. I reached over, grabbed her by her strawberry hair and yanked her off. I stood up, still clutching her hair, my cock bobbing inches from her face, which had a dreamy look of anticipation, as if she’d been fantasizing just such a scene.
She looked up from the floor, where she crouched. “Go on,” she implored. “Use me. I’m a slut.”
I tightened my grip. She winced with pain and God help me, my cock suddenly stood out hard and perpendicular as a tree limb.
“You want to be my slut, Harper?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Whatever you want.”
“What if I hurt you?”
"I hope you do."
Also by Morgan Wolfe:
The Biker’s Runaway: An Unlikely Love Story
What happens when a girl falls in love with the man she’s always believed was her father? What happens when a man falls in love with the child he’s always thought was his daughter? What happens when the two have to live alone together for a long hot summer?