Everyone always thought it took drugs, or magic, or hypnosis or subliminal messages to turn a woman into your personal sex slave. Jacob knew better. It took just two things; patience, and a good supply of massage oil.
They’d been dating for about a month when Jacob let it slip that he’d worked as a massage therapist. Unsurprisingly, Betsy jumped at the chance to get a free rubdown from her boyfriend. From there, it was just a matter of time before she was his.
He started slowly, working the oil into her skin, talking to her in a low, soothing voice about nothing in particular. He let her body lead the way, the constant touch stirring wave after wave of endorphins that lulled her into a state of relaxation and calm. It was a lazy Saturday, she wasn’t worried about the time. It was the perfect opportunity.
He gradually began to massage her erogenous zones, sending tingles of arousal through her body to intensify the dopamine high. Once he was convinced she was no longer thinking, only feeling, he began slowly rubbing her clit. She tried to hump his fingers, her body already primed for orgasm, but she was too relaxed to do more than gently squirm under his touch.
He kept going for hours like that, keeping her just on the edge of cumming, his slick fingers swirling over and over on her sensitive clit. Her voice became slurred with pleasure, then slowly melted into whimpers and moans as the heavy doses of natural drugs took their toll on her ability to think.
Only then, after time had lost all meaning for her and her thoughts had dissolved into a cotton-candy blur of mindless bliss, did Jacob begin explaining to her what he wanted her to become. She couldn’t respond with words; she was too deep for that now. But the way her moans intensified told him that she was turning into the good girl he wanted her to be.
That didn’t mean he stopped.
