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Hypnotic Humiliation

by markhypnosub

Hypnotic Humiliation

Hypnotic Humiliation


It had been a hard practice. The summer heat was almost unbearable, particularly after we had finished running laps in full pads. Sweat was pouring out of every pore in my body as I quietly cursed the coach for pushing us so sadistically in this God-awful heat. As I finished the final lap, someone on the sidelines caught my attention. Spectators were common at our practices, considering we were now in real contention for the conference title heading into our final three games. But this guy seemed to have a problem with his underwear, because every time I looked over at him, he was casually adjusting his package. He was a good-looking kid of about 19, tall, with shoulder-length blonde hair, wearing our official team T-shirt, cut-off jean shorts and worn Nike high-tops. Obviously, a real fan.

 As the week wore on, I noticed that he was at every practice, showing up before we took the field, and hanging around until all the players had showered and headed home. This guy really should get a life, I thought. But as I watched him, day after day, I began to realize the depth of his obsession, as well as the growing signs of need in his shorts. If football players are his fetish, I thought, I'm going to give him an experience he'll really get off on.

 We won easily that week, completely dominating the TCU Horned Frogs. Yeah - they call them that for a reason - they're usually too damned horny to play worth a shit. We knocked their dicks in the dirt - and had a blast doing it! A bowl game was now a certainty.

 The next week after practice, the cute kid was there, as usual. As we left the field, I sauntered over to him, watching his eyes grow wide as I approached. As I stared down at him from my 6' 5" muscular frame, I saw his dick begin to grow in those shorts. Pausing for a moment to let him get a good look at my towering, padded body, holding my sweat-soaked helmet, I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "follow me.”

 Without even turning around to see if he obeyed, I walked briskly toward the north end of the field house, where no one could see us. When I turned around, he was there, eyes still wide and a small moist spot on the front of his shorts.

 "Do you know where the athletic dorm is?" I asked. He nodded. "My room number is 702. Be there tonight at 7:30 sharp.

Knock twice, wait five seconds, then knock three times." I abruptly turned away and jogged into the locker room without looking back.

 As a certified jock with an uncharacteristically high GPA, I had grown tired of the usual jerk-off courses football players are supposed to take. I decided to expand my horizons and go for a rather ambitious psych major. In the process, a few friends and I developed an interest in hypnosis. One of our instructors was a certified hypnotherapist, and he showed us how relaxation and visualization can help achieve many worthwhile goals.

Much of my success on the field I attribute to the ability to concentrate and focus - skills I enhanced through hypnosis. My friends and I had lately gained somewhat of a reputation in the dorms for helping underachievers psych up for exams, and visualize positive learning techniques and passing grades while in a trance. We were amazed at how well it really works.

Until that day at practice, I had never really thought of having fun with hypnosis, but the possibilities presented by the cute kid with the hard-on were too devlish to resist. I knew that since I already his attention and admiration, it would be an easy task.   

At precisely 7:30, I heard the specified combination of knocks on my door. "Come in - it's open," I said. Hesitantly, the kid opened the door and slid into the room. "Lock the door behind you," I commanded. He obeyed. I had purposely neglected to take a shower after practice. As I stretched out on the couch with only my jogging shorts and white socks on, I exposed my sweating pits and let the room become stale and musky. "Get on your knees and do not speak," I ordered. I began twitching my toes inside my sweat socks, and motioned him to come closer. With his nose very near my feet, I said: "You may sniff my feet. As you do, you will feel the power of my voice, and it will become easier and easier for you to obey my commands." I could tell he was getting excited, so I decided to move right on to the next step. Pulling my feet away abruptly, I told him to stretch out comfortably on the couch and stare intently at the darkened light fixture above.

 The induction was fairly routine; he was a willing subject.

After some temperature extremes and levitation exercises, I knew that he was in a deep trance. As he followed my voice and descended, floor by floor, in the imaginary elevator, I deepened the trance by suggesting that every word I spoke would soothe and relax him, making it easier and easier for him to respond to my suggestions. I then explained the essential part of my plan:   "Post hypnotic suggestions are specific and powerful sets of instructions which your subconscious mind willingly accepts while you are totally relaxed. They are not remembered by your conscious mind until a specific cue causes them to come flooding in with such intensity that you will automatically comply without thinking. You will hear my voice repeating them, over and over, until compliance is complete, after which everything will return to normal.”

 After the standard admonitions that each time he was hypnotized he would go twice as fast and twice as deep as the time before, I gave him the suggestion that every time I touched his forehead and spoke the word "sleep," he would immediately relax and let go, allowing my words to take him back to the pleasant, enjoyable place where he was right now. After a little practice, I knew this would enable me to hypnotize him easily, whenever and wherever I chose.

 Now for the fun part: "Whenever I mention a part of my body or an article of my clothing, you will have an erection. It will be neither stronger nor weaker than your usual erections, however it will remain with you until I specifically tell you to cum.

While you are erect, you will obey my every instruction - just as easily as if you were in a deep trance. The power and authority of my voice will be irresistible. After you cum, you will return to your usual cycle.”

 Then, I gave him the instruction not to remember anything that was said under hypnosis until the proper time, and awakened him from the trance. I invited him to come back the next night at the same time, then asked him to leave.

 The next night I devoted to re-enforcing the depth of the trance and each post-hypnotic suggestion. I started by talking about my sweaty socks. As instructed, his pants began to bulge obscenely, and I knew he was mine to command. "Remove my smelly socks with your teeth." He responded immediately. "Pick up my stinking shoe and put it over your mouth." He did. "Breathe deeply and feel the power of my voice and of my body. Now lick my toes." His head snapped to my now-bare feet, and he began working his tongue between my sweating toes. "Rub my ankles with your hands as you worship my feet with your tongue."

With both his hands now occupied, I decided it was time for the climax. "As you feel the power of my feet, your balls will begin to tingle and you will shoot a load of cum in your pants without touching yourself. CUM NOW!" His body began to twitch and shake, but his mouth didn't leave my feet. After a deep sigh, he pulled away, shook his head and looked confused. "Everything is fine now," I said. "Everything is returning to normal." As he left, he noticed the obvious wet spot in his pants. He glanced briefly at me, shook his head again and left my room with the confused look of a puppy who had just been beaten - exactly as I had planned.

 After two more conditioning sessions, I decided he was ready for his big debut. I told him I needed to work late with my receivers after practice the next day. I instructed him to wait until all the other players had gone. After working out the kinks in our post patterns and long bombs, my buddies and I headed for the locker room. I motioned for the kid to follow us.   As usual, the locker room stank big time - all the odors of the sweat, piss, shit and mildew from a dozen seasons of physical exertion had seeped between the cracks, creating a pungent mix that no cleaning agent could fully remove. I could tell the kid was awed by the place. One of my receivers looked at the kid and asked, "Who are you?" Before he could answer, I said, "He's mine.

Get used to him. You'll be seeing a lot of him." The kid started to protest, but I stopped him in mid-sentence. "My pads are full of sweat right now," I began, watching his pants begin to bulge obediently. My buddies looked at me curiously as I continued. "It was a hard practice today and my feet are really aching. Come over here and drop to your knees." The kid obeyed. "Untie my cleats with your teeth." My buddies' jaws dropped. They couldn't believe what they were seeing. As the ritual we had practiced in my room unfolded, one of my receivers whistled softly, "Man, look at that fag slurp on those nasty feet." Despite their jeers, though, I could tell they were getting excited by the scene. I removed my sweaty shoulder pads and had the kid suck all the juice out of them.

One of my buddies started jacking off shamelessly. By the time I had the kid licking the sweat from my armpits, all three of my teammates were too hot to protest. One by one, I instructed the kid to repeat the humiliation exercise on each of my buddies. One of them couldn't stand it, and shot a big load on the kid's hair as he licked his feet. The other two held back long enough to deposit their loads down his throat. As the three lay back, totally spent, I instructed the kid to pull out his dick and shoot his own load in his mouth.

 As the hypnotic spell broke, the kid once again looked dazed and confused, completely unaware of what had just happened. "This is our little slave boy, guys, the one with the cum in his hair," I laughed. The kid quickly felt his hair, and a look of terror spread across his face. "Hey, I don't know what you...." he began. I quickly walked over to him and touched his forehead.

"Sleep," I commanded. His eyes closed. "Deeper and deeper, fully relaxed, completely obedient. When I count to three you will awake and leave this locker room, feeling refreshed, invigorated and satisfied. You will look forward to the next time you are invited here. You will receive further instructions by phone.

Remember, whenever I say the word 'sleep' over the phone, you will go twice as fast and twice as deeply asleep as you are now, ready to receive my instructions. One. Two. Three." The kid awoke with a smile and bolted out the door, his dick still hanging out of his pants.   

We won the bowl game that year, completely dominating our opponents. It was as if we were inside each others' heads. My receivers never missed a route. Surely, a large part of our success was due to the fact that we didn't have to put up with girlfriends' mind games. All of us knew that complete domination and sexual pleasure were as close as the nearest phone.   


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