A lone snowboarder goes for the ride of his life.
She was responding better than he had let himself hope she would. Joel thought to himself how amazing this was. She would do anything for him, but first, she would do anything to him. He pondered the possibilities for a moment, then set to work.
Joel was a student of the fine art of neuro-linguistic programming (or NLP for short). He knew all about positive statements and the most effective way to get people to do as you wished them to. After all, you didn't get anywhere in business anymore without a little coercion. Sure, a friendly smile and a firm handshake were still part of the business, but he'd had his teeth bleached and his handshake was the result of practice - his hand was always slightly on top, a dominance trick he'd picked up at an Essential Skills seminar a few years back. Joel knew who he was, where he was going, and how to get there. He was going to make damned sure he had his way with Lucille in the way he wanted to, but with her thinking it was what she wanted the entire time. (The threat of sexual harassment was always hanging about - even in his fantasies.)
Joel drew up some things he'd like Lucille to do for him and phrased them in his most positive and hypnotic tone. "Lucille?"
She blinked comprehension, but did not speak. It was just as well. She could be a bit of a gossip and he wasn't in the mood for chatter.
"Lucille, you love my cock."
Her lips turned up in a slight smile of recognition.
"Yes. You're such a good girl, Lucille. You love my cock and want to worship it."
She leaned forward slightly. This was going very well.
"You want to worship my cock but can't think of the best way. It confuses you just a little bit to think of what the best way is to show your love for it. I will tell you because I am your friend and want you to do what makes you happy. Worshipping my cock makes you happy and I will tell you how the best way is to accomplish that. Would you like to know how to worship it, Lucille?"
"Yes. Tell me." She spoke in barely more than a whisper, obviously taken into some sort of alpha state by the pheromones and his use of language. Her eyes showed the glassy look of the drugged, but the same shine of one hungry for more as well.
"I will tell you, Lucille. Because I am your friend. You treasure me. You know that I hold the most beautiful cock you've ever seen and you long to worship it. Because you worship my cock, you treasure me above all others as possessor of it. I like you, Lucille. And that's good. It's good that I like you because I want to honor you with my cock. This is a great honor and you're so happy to have it. You know that it is a special honor and you love that I'm willing to let you have it, even for a short time. You know that you deserve this honor because you are my little cocksmoker, Lucille. I want you to tell me this now. Tell me you are my little cocksmoker."
Lucille spoke with flat affect, but the words were enough. "I am your little cocksmoker."
"Oh yes. That's a good girl. You're such a good girl, Lucille. I want you to remember something: You are my little cocksmoker. It makes you so happy to be my little cocksmoker. You want to worship my cock, but you will only be allowed to when I tell you you're my little cocksmoker. This will be my name for you when you are allowed to worship my cock. Do you want to worship my cock now, Lucille? Do you want to be my good little cocksmoker?" Joel thought perhaps he had gone too far, but the repetitiveness was often necessary in hypnotic states to drill the point home, and it was his favorite obscenity.
"I want to be your good little cocksmoker," she parroted.
"Excellent. Now I will tell you how to worship my cock, Lucille. You will be my good little cocksmoker. You will kneel before me, take my penis into your mouth, and give me the best blowjob you have ever delivered. You will worship my cock by blowing me, Lucille. Do you want to do that?"
"Yes. I am your good little cocksmoker."
She rose stiffly from Joel's desk and knelt before him.