Make her strip

I couldn't help it. With that defenseless lobe taunting me I lashed out and grabbed it without thinking. Ah well, she's under my control for now and as long as I don't do anything too strange she probably won't mind too much. Also my new over the shoulder vantage point makes two things abundantly clear. The first is that she is definitely not wearing a bra. The second is that she wasn't wearing a bra when she got her tan.

I cleared my throat and began my command. "Rachel; if you have anything related to smoking on you you should toss it in my private toilet. Any lighters, matches, cigarettes, or even anything that has a strong odor of cigarette smoke. Understand?" That should seem innocent enough but still get a nice result. Now all I had to do is hold her earlobe for long enough that she would have enough time to strip down. God just picturing her doing a seductive striptease to kill time was killing me. That had to be long enough.

She got up as soon as I let go and started complaining. "What? So, I just pitch my cigs and that's it? I was kinda hoping for the whole traumatic childhood, lets get to the real root of your smoking; your deep psychological issues, hocus pocus." She continued on opening the restroom door and began emptying her pockets. "Lint, an old wrapper, and half the cash I'm supposed to give you at the end of this." She places the items on the sink before picking the cash up and sniffing at it. Shaking her head and putting it back she continues."And that's everything I got on me doc."

Despite this she had pinched the center of her shirt up and begun to sniff at it. With a twisted face of mock revulsion at the scent she whipped her tanktop off with one hand. Swung it around the room once to make sure she had cleared her ponytail and dunked it into the shitter. As glorious as the perfectly bronzed knockers swaying about free of their green cloth oppressor were the look on her face was a thousand times better. Slowly shifting from the mock revulsion of smelling something unpleasant to the jubilant triumph of having handily trounced her shirt. To the bewildered incomprehension of why she would do that. To the shock and horror when she realized why she tossed the shirt. The all encompassing dread that she wasn't finished. And finally the shame and humiliation that she was being watched. She turned to me a panicked tapestry of harsh accusations and **** pleas for mercy written on her face. Yet her hands had already begun unbuttoning her shorts.

"Don't look, please don't look. Just make me stop." She half wailed as her right hand slid her zipper down and her left slid to her hip; thumb stuck in waistband ready to de-pants herself.

"Just calm down, take it nice & slow, and focus. Hypnosis can't make you do anything you don't want to do and I never told you to do anything like this. This is all you."

She let out a low groaning wail as she turned around bracing herself against the wall while her hands slipped her shorts off her hips, down her thighs, past her knees and around her ankles. The view was superb as she stepped out of the shorts and in doing so spread her legs. Each ass cheek was it's own entity separated by a half inch of flesh whose only notable features were a thin black string slightly to the left side and a dark brown cluster in the center that pulsed and twitched as the string touched it. While the string began up near the top of the ass cheeks in a delightful perversion of a bust line it ended at a small triangular bit of semi-transparent camouflage. Camouflage which failed in it's duty to hide a small pink-ish white cleft between two puffy brown mounds in no small part due to the mounds and surrounding area having been thoroughly cleared of any forestation.

All too soon the promised land is ripped from my view as Rachel staggers over to the toilet and deposits her shorts and hair band. Damn I didn't even see her take it out but her nearly white hair is definitively scattering about. She folds her arms behind her head lifting her hair out of the way as she goes to sit on the toilet. On the verge of a total breakdown the young lady is murmuring to herself eyes cast down. "There's no way the smell got in to... It wouldn't smell like that... Right? I can't risk checking. Can you do it for me? Just tell me I can keep this on at the very least. Please, I'll do anything if I can just stay here like this until this is all over."

I cast a glance over at the clock. Time's been up for a while now. She's just been flying on autopilot debasing herself and assuming that her body will **** her to comply even if she tried to resist. That has to be some kind of special hell.