"Rhonda, Mr. Bennett fuckthebabysitter. My fuckthebabysitter name is Rhonda Marks." The girl's voice sounded perfectly normal, calm and relaxed as she fuckthebabysitter posed with fuckthebabysitter her bra in his face fuckthebabysitter. She fuckthebabysitter seemed not to realize there was anything unusual going fuckthebabysitter on.
This was incredible fuckthebabysitter. This gorgeous doll fuckthebabysitter of a nurse apparently would do anything he said. But she didn't look or act fuckthebabysitter "hypnotized" in the join stereotypical sense: her eyes weren't fuckthebabysitter glazed, she spoke in a fuckthebabysitter normal voice fuckthebabysitter, she moved like a regular person and not a B-movie zombie fuckthebabysitter.
He regarded her for a moment. "One thing," he fuckthebabysitter said. "'Mr. Bennett fuckthebabysitter' is too formal, if fuckthebabysitter we're going to be," he fuckthebabysitter smirked fuckthebabysitter, "working closely together. From now fuckthebabysitter on, you fuckthebabysitter'll only fuckthebabysitter call me that fuckthebabysitter if other people are around. When fuckthebabysitter we're alone, it's 'master.' Do you understand?"
"Yes, master," Rhonda fuckthebabysitter agreed.
"Yes . . . master . . . ." Rhonda replied, still a fuckthebabysitter bit fuckthebabysitter breathless.
"Jasmine, sir," she responded, a slight Louisiana fuckthebabysitter accent fuckthebabysitter in her voice. "Jasmine Thibodeaux."
He had it: a gimmick from stage hypnotism. It was pure show business fuckthebabysitter, but it was fuckthebabysitter a harmless suggestion which wouldn't fuckthebabysitter get him fuckthebabysitter into trouble if fuckthebabysitter it failed. "Jasmine, raise your arms above your fuckthebabysitter head and clasp your hands together, and stay that way."
"Shh fuckthebabysitter," Paul said. "Not another word." Instantly, Jasmine fell fuckthebabysitter silent, looking scared.
Over the next few days, cautious experimentation confirmed fuckthebabysitter Paul's fuckthebabysitter guesses and fuckthebabysitter expanded his understanding of his new abilities. As he'd thought, he could control women but not men fuckthebabysitter. The--influence, whatever it was, could manipulate not only actions but fuckthebabysitter memories and fuckthebabysitter thoughts, and suggestions seemed not to wear off, at least join in the fuckthebabysitter short term. It didn't fuckthebabysitter work fuckthebabysitter over the phone, unless fuckthebabysitter he specifically told his target face-to fuckthebabysitter-face fuckthebabysitter ahead of time to fuckthebabysitter respond to phone fuckthebabysitter commands.
Paul smiled an evil smile. Ms. Sands was about fuckthebabysitter to experience a change of fuckthebabysitter attitude. All he needed fuckthebabysitter was to get her fuckthebabysitter alone.
"Paul," she said, "I need to speak with you for a few minutes, if you join don't mind."
Paul's fuckthebabysitter heart sank. Could he really have--? Yes, he decided fuckthebabysitter. He had already been fuckthebabysitter sick fuckthebabysitter when he'd landed fuckthebabysitter the Cortez fuckthebabysitter account. He remembered the day fuckthebabysitter he and Mrs. Cortez fuckthebabysitter had signed the join papers fuckthebabysitter; his throat had hurt so much, all he'd wanted was fuckthebabysitter to get out of there. Yes, he could have fuckthebabysitter made a mistake.
"It's all right, Charlene," he assured her. "Let it happen. Lose control fuckthebabysitter. Nothing matters but sex, right here, right now, with fuckthebabysitter me fuckthebabysitter, Charlene."
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