Hypno Harem 2: Harem-Scarem!

by Morgan Wolfe

  Daisy, Brownie and Happy stared at him in baffled disappointment, their faces filled with hurt.

  “I, uh, have a headache,” Woody said, feeling oddly guilty. “Anyway, you three better get out of here. Go on. Vamoose!”

  They tramped out of the kitchen and he busied himself clearing the table. A few minutes later he heard the sound of Brownie’s old Honda as it backed out of the driveway.

  Berta was still seated at the table, strangely slumped in her chair. What an unpleasant evening, Woody thought. He’d managed to get crosswise with every female in the house. Well, now that he and Berta were alone, maybe they could spend some quality time together.

  He knelt beside her. “Berta, sweetheart, you look a little down. Want some dessert?”

  She shook her head, a strange expression on her face.

  “What’s the matter? You can tell Daddy.”

  “Berta have tummy ache,” she said and threw up all over him.

  It was well after 11:00 by the time Woody got Berta cleaned up, got himself cleaned up and got the kitchen cleaned up. She was in bed now, fresh out of the bath, her hair in braids, wearing her Minnie Mouse pajamas. She looked cute, Woody thought, thirty-four-years-old or not.

  “Feel better now?” he asked solicitously.

  “Uh-huh. I’m sorry I got you messy, Daddee.”

  “Oh, well, that’s all over now.” He bent down to kiss her goodnight.

  “Daddee, read me to sleep.”

  “It’s late, Berta.”

  “Please, Daddee.”

  “Oh, all right. What do you—”

  “I want to hear Story.”

  “What story?”’

  “You know, Story.”

  “Oh, that story. Uh, well, are you sure? Last time I read you that book you got all, ah, worked up. I think it’s not a good book for sleepy time.”

  “Please, Daddee, please? I want to hear Story. Just one chapter. Then I’ll go sleep. I promise.”

  “Well, all right,” said Woody, not without misgivings. He went to the bookshelf and got the book. “Let’s see. Where were we?”

  “She was on the floor. They made her get up.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Woody found his place. “Here we are.” He pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down. Berta’s eyes twinkled with excitement. She pulled the cover up to her neck. “Go on, Daddee,” she said.

  Woody cleared his throat and began to read. “Then they made O get up and were on the verge of tying her, probably to attach her to some pole or wall, when someone protested that he wanted to take her right there on the spot. So they made her kneel down again, this time on the ottoman, binding her wrists and ankles to its legs. Sir Stephen told her that this once she would not be blindfolded because they intended to whip her afterwards and he wanted O to see herself flogged in the mirror opposite. She would not however see his face or that of anyone else since they would don masks for the occasion.…”

  Unit 156

  It was late Friday night when Jong pulled into Alpha Mini-Storage. He entered the security code at the gate, drove inside and parked the car. He and Mung walked to the row marked “H,” then turned and continued until they reached unit 156. Mung knocked on the metal door: three fast taps, pause, then two more.

  “Happy,” said a voice within.

  “Birthday,” said Mung.

  A moment later, Sook opened the door and they went inside.

  The interior was dim, lit only by an overhead bulb. It smelled of cigarette smoke and sweat. There was little in the way of furniture, just four straight chairs and a table with two packs of cigarettes, an ashtray, kitchen knife, wire cutter, scissors, pliers, clamps of different sizes and an auto battery.

  A naked Jana Blond sat in one of the chairs, bound with white clothesline and gagged with duct tape. She had a black eye and several bruises and burns on her body. Electric cord connected to the battery was taped to her breasts.

  “Any trouble?” asked Sook.

  Mung shook his head. “We take them to Ship Channel, tie cinder blocks to bodies. They sink fast.” He giggled. “Frenchman still alive.”

  “Not any more,” said Jong. “Any trouble here?”

  Sook shook her head. “Jana Blond perfect guest.”

  Jong smiled. “So nice of you get this space for us, Ms. Blond. Very convenient. Thank you!”

  Sook snickered. Mung put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. Jana tensed noticeably. She made a sound under her gag.

  Sook smiled. “Jana Blond say, ‘You welcome.’ She say, ‘So clever you find tracking device and lay trap for us.’”

  Jana made another noise. Sook pretended to translate. “She say, ‘Thank you not kill me.’”

  “Oh, no kill you, Ms. Blond,” said Jong. “You useful. For now.”

  Mung walked to the prisoner and took the cigarette from his mouth. He held the lit end near her face. “You like smoke, Jana Blond?”

  Jana’s screwed her eyes shut.

  “Open eyes, please, Jana Blond,” said Mung coldly.

  Jana reluctantly opened her eyes. Mung curled his lip in contempt and tossed the cigarette to the concrete floor, where he ground it out. He touched a finger to the corner of her right eye, then held it up for Jong and Sook. His fingertip glistened in the dim light.

  “Little tear!” Mung exclaimed. “Number one spy Jana Blond big crybaby!”

  “Oh, please no hurt me!” said Sook in a high falsetto voice. “I be good girl. I be good!”

  “I think Jana Blond lonely,” said Jong. He stroked her short platinum hair. “You no worry, Ms. Blond. Soon you have plenty company.” He turned to Mung. “We need more chairs. Also rope.”

  Mung nodded. “Also tape.”

  “Yes, yes. Not want disturb neighbors.”

  “I get tomorrow.”

  “Good. Tomorrow very busy day.”

  Another tear formed in Jana’s eye. The three Koreans tittered as they watched it trickle down her cheek.

  Milk and Cookies

  “O dined by herself,” Woody read aloud, “in a cramped cell where a hand passed dishes to her through a slot in the door. When she was done, two servants unlocked the door and chained O’s wrists behind her back. They draped a long red velvet cape over her shoulders and attached it to her metal collar. In the mirror…”

  He stopped and glanced at Berta, who was sound asleep. He smiled. Awake, she was a handful but so precious when she was asleep. Yes, she was bratty sometimes but a good girl at heart. A good girl.

  He took out his phone and snapped a photo. What would her patients think if they saw this picture? Their psychiatrist Dr. Roberta Crofts-Bailey in pigtails and Minnie Mouse pajamas? They’d think she should see a psychiatrist!

  Woody tiptoed out of the bedroom and turned off the light, careful to turn on her Olaf the Snowman nightlight.

  It was late but Daisy and the others were still out. Sometimes they didn’t get back until 2:00. That was all right with Woody. He needed a night to himself. He took a shower, put on his royal blue silk pajamas and went to the kitchen to make a glass of chocolate milk. He put some cookies on a plate and took his snack to his bedroom.

  He sat in bed, munching. Chocolate milk and oatmeal cookies! What was better? Truth was, it was nice just having the entire bed to himself. All this sex was great but it was starting to wear him down. He was even getting a little tired of it, which he’d never dreamed could happen. The thing was that when you could have anything you want, anytime you want, any old way you want, after a while you didn’t want it so much. No effort, no challenge. It just wasn’t as interesting.

  His mind drifted to the girls’ idea—demand, really—for dance lessons and a choreographer. He hated to sell the Lexus but he didn’t see any other way. Bills for four people added up, even with the girls working.

  The irony was he had this fantastic power and, except for the Lexus and a few other things, he hadn’t really taken advantage of it. He had the ability to plant ideas in people’s mi
nds and so far he spent most of his time making girls want to have sex with him. He ought to use it to make money. Warren Buffett was going to be in Houston for a book signing. If he could get close enough to Buffett to… But wait, wasn’t that robbery? Couldn’t he get arrested for that? That is, if anyone realized what he was doing.

  This was silly. Here he was worried about committing robbery when he’d made slaves of three women. And he’d had Daisy’s mom Emma locked up for life in an insane asylum. That was worse than robbery. Why didn’t that bother him? It should, shouldn’t it?

  Maybe it didn’t because the book had corrupted him, turned him evil just like the Ring worked on Gollum and others. Dr. Popper gave it to him because he’d been inside Woody’s mind and found him “good and pure, like der vittle hobbit.” Maybe he wasn’t anymore. Or maybe he never was. Was he really evil yet? Or just bad?

  Or maybe he thought too much. He’d worry about all this another time. Right now he just wanted to enjoy his snack. The cookies were tasty, though not as good as Mom’s. He remembered sitting at the kitchen table when he was a kid, swinging his legs because they didn’t reach the floor yet, drinking chocolate and eating fresh cookies, reading a comic book while his mother bustled around the kitchen, getting supper ready.

  He sighed. Happy times. Those were happy times. Safe and loved and not a care in the world. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could go back to those times. Just stay a kid. Not worry about sex or money or… or evil. Just read comic books and ride your bike.

  He was sleepy. He finished his milk and put the glass and plate on the bedside table. Time to go to bed. Maybe he’d have a nice dream.

  He turned off the light. The house was silent. The pillow was soft. Hmm, so soft. Alone in the bed, he could pretend to be ten years old again, no worries. Not a care in the world. Hmm, so….

  End of Hypno Harem, Part 2

  (Hypno Harem, Part 3 Coming Soon!)

  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, Part 2. If you are interested in Woody’s further adventures in the dark art of mind control, let me know at:

  MorganWolfe@gmail.com

  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 at 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?

  If you’re looking for a Taboo Family Romance that’s a real romance, a story of repressed passion and love released, the kind of tale that will give you a warm bittersweet feeling – this book was written for YOU.

  The Biker’s Runaway: an Unlikely Love Story is about a pair of very real people, Frank and Abby Mancuso. For nine months of the year Frank is head of the San Antonio chapter of the notorious Aztec Motorcycle Club. But from June through August he’s “Daddy” to Abby and her brother Greg, who leave their home in Austin to spend summers with him. He and the kids have a ball: swimming, camping and shooting fireworks. The climax of every vacation is the Renaissance Faire, when the three don costumes for a weekend of fantasy fun.

  But this summer is different. This summer Greg is interning in California and for the first time, Frank and eighteen-year-old Abby are alone together in Frank’s small house, both uncomfortably aware of her blossoming sexuality.

  Tensions are strained to the breaking point when the two are forced to face what they’ve long suspected. Frank isn’t Abby’s real father.

  Pulled by passion, separated by taboo, Frank and Abby hold back – careful not to touch, not to break boundaries, not to bare forbidden longings. Yet every night, each dreams of holding the other in a reckless embrace.

  Tormented, they count the days to the Renaissance Faire and the end of summer, when Abby will leave for college. The night before the Faire, however, passions flair and Abby flees for the home of a friend.

  But fate has one last trick to play. At the Renaissance Faire reality and fantasy mingle and sometimes explode – as Frank and his runaway are about to discover.

  Warning: this 28,000 word novella is for mature audiences only.

  Also by Morgan Wolfe:

  Hypno Harem, Part 1

  Hy
pno Harem is the story of Woody, a nerdy grad student in neuroscience, tormented by his graduate advisor, the formidable MILF, Dr. Emma Starke, who hates him because he’s a protégé of the late Dr. Otto Popper, her bitter academic rival.

  Woody’s in love (or at least in lust) with Dr. Starke’s haughty, beautiful daughter, Candice, who snubs him because he’s not a jock or frat. What the two don’t know is that Woody has a secret weapon. Shortly before he died, Popper, an Austrian Nobel Prize winner, gave him an unpublished book, the work of a lifetime. “It vill teach you to control minds, Voody. Dangerous it ist. More than atomik bomb! Never must you use it for evil. Make dot promise.”

  Woody promises. Well, all right, he can’t resist the opportunity to make Candice play with herself in public. That’s not evil though – just a prank, harmless fun. WHEE!

  But when Woody learns Candice’s mom intends to kick him out of the graduate program, he’s desperate to change her mind – any way he can.

  Will Woody successfully brain-hack Emma? Can he make the cougar and the kitten tame enough to lick out of his hand – and other places? Will he give in to evil? Will you spend $2.99 to find out and risk getting hot and excited reading this at work? WHEEE!Warning: Most Amazon mind control stories are fun frolics about horny boys and sedate girls turned into hot bimbos. This 28,000 word tale has an edgy BDSM dark side that is for mature audiences only. It includes bondage, spanking, domination-submission and dubious consent. Don’t buy it if that sort of thing upsets you.

  Also by Morgan Wolfe (with Madison Smart)

  Daddy, If I’m a Billionairess, Why Do I Have to Make My Bed?