Getting The Message free porn video

GETTING THE MESSAGE Hope you enjoy this story about the power of suggestion. See if you too can get the message ... ================================== He blinked and looked around. There seemed to be bright lights above and around him, but in front was just darkness - a darkness that rang with laughter and applause. Bewildered, the young man took a step back. As he did so, he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see a grinning figure in a glittering gold jacket. The apparition was gesturing, clearly trying to usher him in a particular direction, to steer him away from ... wherever the hell he was. The figure brought a microphone up and then spoke in a voice which was very close and yet at the same time boomed all around the young man. "And let's have another round of applause for Jake!" As he heard his name, memory flooded back and he found his bearings. He smiled uncertainly at the ... yes, that's right, the hypnotist. Then, waving to acknowledge the crowd packed into the Spiegeltent, he walked to the side of the stage and found the short flight of steps that led off it. By the time he had picked his way through the smiling crowd back to the booth where he had been sitting, another volunteer had already replaced him. Rohit and Simon greeted him with roars of approval. "Where's Macca?" Jake asked, looking around. "Gone to get you a beer," said Simon. "We reckoned you'd need one after all the talking you did up there!" "Talking? Why, what was I saying?" His friends exchanged amused glances. "Don't you remember?" asked Rohit. Jake shook his head ruefully. "Not a thing - or at least, nothing after getting up on stage." "We - ell," said Simon, "it wasn't so much what you said, as how you said it - or how you were made to say it." "How do you mean?" He had to say this last a little louder to be heard over the laughter and catcalls from the crowd, as they watched a young woman running around the stage on all fours like a dog. "I'm not supposed to tell you. The hypnotist said it was our little secret - I mean the audience's. Said if anyone told you, you might - what was the word, Rohit? Oh yeah, regress. You might regress and spend the next week, you know, talking that way." They both laughed again. "Talking what way, for fuck's sake?" But they wouldn't say, and he just knew from past experience they'd delight in keeping him in the dark. At that point Macca arrived back with the beers, which went down very nicely. Jake's throat was pretty hoarse, though from what, he wasn't sure. They watched the rest of the show and Jake really enjoyed it, even while wondering what on earth had happened to him up on stage. True to form, his so-called mates wouldn't let on. There was also another mystery. On the train home he found a piece of A4 paper neatly folded into the back pocket of his jeans. He read it, then threw it away. It was clearly nothing important, though he couldn't think how it had got there in the first place. Over the next few days, he had to put up with a stream of mocking but obtuse comments from his friends - though mercifully they didn't take to social media to reveal what had happened. His best guess, judging from the rest of the show he'd seen, was that he'd been persuaded to cluck like a chicken - or something of that sort. Served him right for being silly enough to volunteer to be hypnotised! Especially at a show which was, after all, part of a comedy festival ... A week or so later, he was chatting idly to a fellow student, killing time before a seminar started. She mentioned that she was in the Navy, who were funding her university education. She was hoping after she graduated to get a posting to work as an engineer on a submarine. Jake looked at her, puzzled, then excused himself and rushed off, his class forgotten. He had to get to his appointment! Though hang on, had he actually made an appointment? Perhaps he'd forgotten! After a moment's frantic googling on his smartphone, he found the place he needed - and fortunately, they could fit him in later that day. It was a big relief. When Jake got home that night, he felt very different. The full body waxing had been, well, a bit painful - not to say embarrassing, when it came to letting the therapist go to work on his crotch. But it had left him with skin that felt wonderfully smooth and clean. He had struggled to explain to the therapist just why he was having it done. And he felt it might be better not to reveal to his parents just how hairless he now was. But he was so glad he'd made the decision! The thing is though that something didn't feel quite right. There was something off-putting about the feel of his clothes on his newly shorn skin. But it was only when he heard a news story about irrigators wanting to increase their water allocations that he realised what was missing. He looked at his watch. Most of the shops would be closed by now. But then an idea occurred. Leaving his mum and dad in front of the television, Jake slipped upstairs. As quietly as he could, he entered his sister's bedroom and turned on the light. He'd hardly been in here since they were much younger and played together, so he had no idea where anything was. But eventually he found what he was looking for in a low chest of drawers inside the wardrobe. As speedily as he could - his sister was out with her boyfriend, but he wasn't sure when she might return - he rifled through the contents. Although she had some pretty pink panties, he wasn't sure cotton was really what he wanted. But at the very bottom of the drawer he struck gold - or rather, black lace. These panties were slinky and see-through, with a scarlet red bow. Perfect, he thought, slipping them into his pocket. He did wonder whether they might be missed - but he could always buy a similar pair the following day and replace them. A further quick search yielded a pair of black tights. That was easier - there were plenty of those. And with that he was out of the door and into his own bedroom. A few minutes later Jake was back downstairs, with the panties on in place of his jocks and the tights safely concealed under his jeans and socks. The pantyhose had been something of a struggle to put on, but the reward was the delicious way that the nylon clung to his depilated legs. And the panties felt even better ... That night he went to sleep with them still on - and they went with him to university the following day as well, so much was he enjoying how they felt. He went to a department store to buy another pair of tights and, after some reflection, purchased several, in a range of different colours. He had a much harder job of matching the panties and left a string of intrigued shop assistants behind him as he went from store to store. But he eventually found what he was after in a specialist lingerie shop. Once again, he decided to get more than one pair - though this time he opted for more variety, choosing everything from the skimpiest thongs to rather larger boyshorts. The young woman who assisted him was kind enough to let him try all of these on to ensure the right fit - and to change into one of them, plus a new pair of tights, before he headed home. He took a detour to visit a laundromat, where he carefully washed and dried his sister's underwear. By that evening the items he had removed were back in her bedroom - and hopefully she would be none the wiser. In the weeks that followed, he fell into the habit of wearing his new collection just about every day, and usually to bed as well. But it didn't occur to him to add anything else, until one afternoon when he was sitting in the living room doing some reading for an assignment. His father, who had stayed home from work with a bad head cold, was watching a nature documentary. Every now and again something from it would capture Jake's attention, before he returned to his homework. But when a segment started on salamanders, Jake lost all interest in both the television and his work. Why hadn't he thought about this before? Telling his dad that he was going into town to meet a friend, he went straight to the lingerie shop from which he'd acquired his precious panties. He was lucky to find the same sales assistant on duty, and she remembered him from the previous occasion. When she asked what kind of corset he wanted to buy, he really had no idea. Nor could he articulate quite what had prompted him to get one, although he was clear that he was going to be wearing it regularly and that it had to be as tight as possible. She gently inquired whether he was "transitioning," but the question made so little sense that he ignored it. In the end, she made the decision for him, selecting what she called an underbust corset. It was made of a mesh fabric, which she suggested would be good for the upcoming warmer weather, but with steel boning. She also persuaded him to buy a couple of camisoles to wear underneath it, to protect his skin. The purchases were expensive, but fortunately his casual bookstore job had given him enough money to be able to afford the occasional luxury. The only problem, he could see, was how he was going to put on the corset himself. When the sales assistant helped him on with it, she was able to lace it up impressively tight and he was struck by how much it altered his figure. But he had no idea what he would do if he were alone. Fortunately the young woman was able to help with that too. She said that she sometimes wore corsets herself and had figured out some tricks for getting by without a friend or partner to help. She told him to come back at the end of the day, just before closing, when she spent a good hour giving him instructions. And so began a new phase for Jake. As spring turned to summer, and it was natural to wear less clothes, it was no longer possible for him to don tights every day. But he still often slept in them - or more commonly the stay-up stockings he had come to favour. And he was never without a pair of lace panties and one of the two corsets he now owned. He always wore dark, loose-fitting tops to conceal both the corset itself and his changing figure. Regular waxings were also now keeping his body hairless. Of course he could no longer conceal the state of his arms and legs, but resuming a previous interest in cycling gave him all the cover he needed - though he did have to loosen the corset when he was out riding, or he felt his lungs might burst. If his friends noticed any alteration in his appearance, they didn't say anything. But they did comment on his increasingly sunny disposition. Jake shrugged that off - life was okay, he said, so why not be happy? Another change that he played down was a loss of interest in the opposite sex. He pretended that it was still there when out with his mates, but he avoided any possibility of hooking up with the women they were supposedly chasing. He even fended off advances from a couple of former girlfriends, who had seemed taken with his fitter-looking body and more cheerful demeanour. None of this worried Jake though, any more than not being able to recall even having an erection since he had first got waxed. It was not as if he was suddenly interested in men either. And while he was enchanted with his new taste in underwear, he derived no sexual pleasure from wearing it. It was during a conversation with one of his former partners, a rather intellectual type who never used one syllable where four would do, that it occurred to him what else he should be doing. She had just congratulated him on modifying what she rather grandiosely described as his "sybaritic" lifestyle. On hearing this he made his excuses, rushed home and went straight to the bathroom. He quickly found his sister's makeup box - but then stopped, baffled by the variety of cosmetics it contained. After a little thought, he headed back to his room and spent the next couple of hours watching makeup tutorials on YouTube. He was enchanted that some of them were by teenage boys, who seemed to have developed an amazing ability to transform into hot girls. Checking back with his sister's stash, he discovered that there were some items she didn't seem to have, so he made a shopping list for the following day. But in the time left before the first family member returned home he experimented with applying eyeshadow and lipstick, delighting in the dramatic way they changed his appearance. Over the next couple of weeks he gradually expanded both his stock of cosmetics and his skill at applying them. It took a lot of trial and error, and many an internet lesson, but gradually he figured out both what to do and how to get the best effect with his particular features. He did idly wonder how he might look if his hair were longer, but felt no inclination to depart from his usual closely cropped cut. He developed a routine of going into university each weekday morning, then heading home in the afternoon, skipping any classes that happened to be on then. This was the time when his house was most likely to be empty and he could practice his makeup skills. Everything would of course come off by the time anyone else got home. His studies suffered somewhat, but he made the time up by finding excuses not to go out of an evening. His mum and dad, although occasionally hassling him with questions about whether he'd yet found "a nice girl to go out with," didn't seem to mind him being home so much. For one thing, they had never really taken to his mates, who they regarded as rather loutish. One day he heard his sister asking his parents about something that was missing. From a moment he panicked, wondering which of his thefts or borrowings she might have noticed. But when she came into his room, her concern lay elsewhere. "Have you seen my yearbook?" she demanded. He stared at her blankly. "My high school yearbook?" she repeated. "Uh, no," he said. She snorted. "Fat lot of use you are ..." Jake barely noticed her take her search elsewhere. He was too busy thinking of his next purchase. But where to get them? After considerable thought, he decided to make a start at the lingerie shop. Fortunately Amy, the sales assistant he'd come to rely on, was working there the next morning. "Hi Jake!" she called when he entered the store. Looking round to check there was nobody else in the shop, and lowering her voice, she asked, "How are those corsets going?" In response, Jake hesitated, then lifted his black t-shirt to reveal what was underneath. "Oh wow!" exclaimed Amy. "You're developing quite the figure there, your waist is so much smaller!" Jake blushed at the compliment, but then explained what he was looking for. Amy frowned. "Hmmm. We don't carry many of those - and of the ones we do, I don't know if we'll have anything in your size. But let's see, shall we?" She led him to a rack of shoes at the back of the store. Every one of them had high heels of various descriptions. "See anything you like?" she asked. Jake looked at them, unsure what to choose. "Well, the heel has to be high, but I don't know if I'll be able to walk in any of these!" Jake missed the thoughtful glance this declaration prompted from Amy. The young shopworker had learnt enough by now not to quiz her favourite customer when he came in wanting something new. Nor did she bother dropping any more hints about catching up with him away from work. He clearly wasn't interested in her. That was frustrating, because ... well, she was intrigued by this good looking young man with the penchant for women's lingerie. She contented herself with holding up a striking pair of black and gold shoes with ankle straps and platform heels. "These should look spectacular," she said. "The platforms will be a little easier to balance on than stilettos. That's if they fit, of course. This is the largest size we do." Fortunately, Jake turned out to have quite small and narrow feet. He actually had to go down half a size to find the best fit. He waited patiently while Amy served a couple of other customers then, when the shop was empty again, watched carefully as she showed him how to walk in heels. He was a fast learner. By the time he left, while still far from comfortable, he was at least looking the part. On the way home he fired off a quick text, then spent the train ride happily contemplating an afternoon's makeup practice, this time wearing both stockings and heels. He had sometimes thought about borrowing other clothes from his sister's wardrobe and completing an outfit - but that had not seemed right, somehow. Nor had trying on any of her shoes, though he was beginning to regret that now. His phone rang. The number didn't come up, but he took the call anyway. "Hi, it's Jake," he said. There was a pause, then a voice said, "So, let us talk." Jake froze. After a moment, the same words were repeated. "So, let us talk." Jake slowly brought the phone down in front of him and stared at it, as if willing it to divulge some secret. Then he brought it up again and said, "Uh, sure. When?" The voice answered, "The fourteenth of next month, Sheraton Hotel, 9pm. Just ask at the desk, there'll be a room for you. Bring all your new stuff - you know the stuff I mean. Got all that?" Jake nodded. "Sure. See you then." The call ended and he looked again at his phone for a moment, then slid it into his pocket. Within seconds his mind had returned to imagining how his new shoes were going to look ... Three weeks or so later, it was a confident and carefree Jake that walked into the lobby of the hotel at the appointed time. He felt fit and toned, the previous day's waxing had left his skin smooth and shining, and he had never lost the thrill of wearing panties under his male clothes. Plus he had become adept both at applying makeup and strutting around in the platform shoes that he was carrying in a bag. As he approached the front desk, however, he felt a sudden tinge of uncertainty. Aside from being clear that he had to keep the appointment he had been given over the phone, he had not given this evening the slightest thought. Yet part of him did wonder what he might be in for. Still, it was with a firm voice that he gave his name and was handed an envelope. Inside was a slip of paper which he quickly read and discarded, plus a room key. He headed over to the lifts. The elevator he got in was crowded with young men in dinner suits, who seemed to be going to some kind of gala dinner. They all got off on the first floor and he had the rest of the ride up to himself. When he let himself into what turned out to be a fairly basic but well appointed room, he found three items waiting for him on the bed. There was a sleeveless black blouse, with a mesh panel on the front, a very short black skirt - and a bright blue wig. He stared at them irresolutely for a moment and then decided he needed to do his makeup first. Stripping down to a black lace thong and mesh corset, which just for once he had opted to put on without its accompanying camisole, he went into the bathroom and started applying foundation. After a moment, however, he went to get the wig. He didn't put it on immediately, but having it there helped with his choice of colours, especially the eyeshadow and lipstick. He decided to go with what he had come to think of as his Goth look, with a pale white face and heavy, dark eyeshadow combining to make his expressive blue eyes stand out. He flirted with the idea of bold, crimson lipstick, but opted in the end for a baby pink. When he had finished, he went back to the bedroom and looked again at the blouse and skirt. Reaching into his bag, he rummaged through the collection of stay-up stockings he had brought with him, before settling on a pair of black fishnets that he had only just acquired. He thought they might go well with the clothes he had been given and, when everything was on, that turned out to be correct. They fit him perfectly too. The only problem was that the skirt was really too short to conceal his stocking tops, but after tugging ineffectually at it a few times, he decided it would have to do. With the addition of his beautiful black and gold platforms, he thought the look was spectacular - but the best was still to come. He carefully put on the iridescent blue wig and adjusted it until it was sitting straight. With the fringe falling artfully down over his forehead and the long tresses at the side framing his painted face, he was utterly transformed. Without the wig, he might still have been taken for an androgynous young man in makeup. But with it, his transformation was complete. He sent a text and then sat down on the bed to wait. It was not long before the phone rang. He picked it up, but before he could say anything a voice asked, "What is your name?" That was an easy question to answer, especially after looking in the mirror. "Jacinta." "And are you ready, Jacinta?" "Yes." The line went dead. Jacinta switched the phone to silent and put it away in her bag. She stood up and went over to the floor-length mirror on the wall and once again admired her appearance. She looked so sexy! She was struck in particular by the curve of her narrowed waist, which compensated for the flatness of her chest, and by how good her long legs looked in the fishnet and heels. And she could appreciate now just how much the skirt added by exposing her stocking tops. She was still standing entranced in front of the mirror when there was a tentative knock. She had been expecting it. Opening the door, she found a rather nervous looking young man with a slightly battered face, wearing an ill-fitting dinner suit. She guessed that he had rented it, presumably for the function going on downstairs. But she said nothing of this, simply smiling and saying: "Hi, come on in." Her voice was soft and breathy, a far cry from the tones she had used down at the reception. As she closed the door behind her guest, she asked him his name. "It's Luke," he said. She noticed that he was looking at her with an almost dazed fascination, drinking in her stunning appearance. "Well hello Luke, I'm Jacinta, it's lovely to meet you." She leant in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Now," she continued without any preamble, "where do you want it, here or on the chair?" He seemed nonplussed by the question. "Um, wherever you like, really." "Okay," she said, dropping to her knees in front of him, "here's fine." She started to unzip his pants, but he reached down and said, with more than a hint of embarrassment, "Er, don't I have to pay you first?" "Oh yes," she said, putting a hand over her mouth and giggling. "Of course!" She watched as he pulled out his wallet and extracted some notes. She didn't count them but, after looking in vain for a pocket in her skimpy outfit, reached under her skirt and tucked them into her knickers. She resumed her efforts to reach inside Luke's pants, though it was a struggle, because there seemed to be quite a lump in there - and it was growing. Eventually, she managed to wrestle it out. It sprang to attention and Jacinta looked at it with interest. She didn't think she'd ever seen one quite this big, though in truth she didn't have a lot to compare it with. Her own was certainly smaller, but it was not as if she could remember seeing many others. She reached up to touch it and was rewarded with a moan from its owner. Well, it might look bigger, and also very different from this angle, but the warmth and hardness were familiar, as was the way it throbbed as she stroked it. Fortunately too, she had some idea of what do with it - a previous girlfriend had seen to that. Calling on her memory of those blowjobs, she used her tongue all the way up one side of the shaft, then down the other. Rather adventurously, she took first one ball then the other into her mouth, sucking on them and trying to ignore the sharp tickle of the pubic hairs that surrounded then. Then it was up to the tip again, running her extended tongue around the rim of the exposed purple helmet. She looked up and saw Luke alternately staring down in fascination and rolling back his eyes. Time to take the plunge ... As she opened her mouth wide and brought it down on his cock, three things happened. She nearly choked as its girth filled her willing orifice. Luke cried out, and for a minute she was worried she might have caught him with her teeth. And her own cock stiffened in response, the sudden erection straining against the flimsy panties. Jacinta gasped at the unexpected sensation. She would have drawn her head away in surprise, had Luke not chosen that moment to grab it and hold it in place. Recalling her task, she began to bob up and down, trying to clamp her lips over the inflamed head of his member and applying as much suction as she could. The motion was awkward and she was finding it difficult to breathe. But from the sounds that Luke was making and the tightness of his grip on her head, she was plainly doing something right. She could only hope that he wouldn't wrench her lovely wig off her busily fellating head. And as uncomfortable and unfamiliar as it might have been to suck her first cock, she was being rewarded by feelings of arousal and pleasure that she had not experienced for months. She felt no inclination to reach down and touch herself. After such a long period of quiescence, her straining member was getting all the stimulation it needed just from throbbing against the lace that held it in check, accentuated by the slight but perceptible thrust of her hips as she kept time with the motion of her head. So caught up was she with the feelings in her groin that it came as a complete surprise when Luke came in her mouth. The first jet of semen went straight down her throat, and so did the second. She half-gagged, half- swallowed as he continued to vent his seed into her tightly crammed mouth, unable to withdraw because of his firm grasp. She could only hold still as he roughly fucked her face, exclaiming wildly as the last bursts of pleasure erupted. And as Jacinta tasted the sticky fluid that he had deposited, she felt her own orgasm arrive, the first in so long that she had almost forgotten how it felt. Reflexively she tightened the suction on the still pulsing shaft in her mouth, using her tongue to lick frantically at the head, almost as if she could somehow taste her own cum. As Luke let out another gasp, her panties were flooded with her cream. It started to drip down her legs and now she did reach down, trying to use her hand to stop it running any further. Luke released his grip and she was able to open her mouth and take a shuddering breath. As he took several unsteady paces backwards and sat down heavily on the bed, she sank down into a sitting kneel. Wonderingly, she brought her cum-covered hand up and sampled her own spunk. Was it different to the generous load Luke had left there? She wasn't sure. Nor was she certain she liked the taste. But she licked her hand clean anyway and swallowed every drop of cum in her mouth. And all the while the still hard cock in her panties oozed out more ... If Luke had noticed that he had not been the only one to come, he didn't let on. After a few minutes he got wearily to his feet and came back to stand over her. He shook his head. "That," he said reverently, "was fucking amazing. You're ... so beautiful, so sexy ..." She smiled when she heard that and looked up at him, eyes shining and lips still glistening with a mixture of his cum and hers. For a moment she thought that he might reach down and kiss her, but instead he gestured awkwardly at the door. "I, er, should go." "Right," she said, clambering to her feet and surreptitiously trying to stem another flow of spunk down her thighs. "Just a minute." She hastened to the bathroom and grabbed two handfuls of tissues. She quickly used one to mop up the worst of the mess in her panties, then took the other one out to him. He nodded to her gratefully and cleaned himself up, dropping the tissues in a nearby bin. She walked over to the door and held it open. As he went out into the vacant corridor, he turned round to look at her. "Bye Luke - and thanks." She blew him a kiss and he responded with a grin, the first one she'd seen on him. "Thank you Jacinta - I hope I see you again some time." She gave him a shy smile and closed the door. She went straight back to the bathroom to get out of her sodden panties and clean herself up. Fortunately, the money she'd stashed in the back of them had stayed dry. It was also lucky that she'd brought a spare pair of knickers. There were cum stains on her skirt and stockings, but she sponged them off and thought they would be okay. She also repaired her lipstick and straightened her wig, which was very slightly askew. She sat back down in an armchair to wait, but it wasn't too long before another knock brought her to the door. This time there was a line of four men outside, again in dinner suits. They cheered when they saw her and asked if they could all come in. She hesitated, but then agreed that they could see her in pairs. And so began a very long and tiring night for Jacinta. She sucked more cocks than she could remember, sometimes singly, but just as often two at a time. They came in all shapes and sizes, a few no bigger than her own, but many much larger than Luke's. One had been so thick that she could barely get it into her mouth. The young men - she had the sense they were all football players - had obviously been told not to touch her and most were in fact both friendly and considerate. But a few got carried away and insisted on shooting their loads all over her face. By the time she had finished, her wig was matted with cum and, despite her best efforts, there were stains all over her clothes as well. And as for the carpet ...well, she hoped that whoever had paid for the room was ready for a cleaning bill! And then there was the physical toll on her body. Her jaw and cheeks ached unmercifully from the blowjobs and her stomach had become queasy from the litres of cum she had swallowed. Even on the soft carpet, her knees had been rubbed raw. And many of the men had insisted that she look at them while she sucked them off, so that her neck too was stiff and sore. She was also aching somewhere else as well. Every time she had wrapped her lips around a new cock, she had become hard. Somehow that excitement had not dissipated through her marathon session. She had come several times herself - though unlike the first couple of times she had been forced to use her hand to trigger the sweet release. Some strategically placed tissues had also spared any need to keep changing her panties. Some of the men had clearly been aware of her climaxes, but none had commented - so perhaps they already knew about what she carried between her legs? It had been twenty minutes since the last customer and she was just beginning to wonder about having a shower and repairing to bed for some much needed sleep, when another tap came on the door. She opened it to find a smartly dressed woman. Her handsome face was vaguely familiar, but Jacinta couldn't place it. She was just about to ask who the woman was when the new arrival held up a hand to forestall her. "That's okay Jacinta, you can let me in. I'm not a customer. But I will take the money, thanks." The voice told her all that she needed to know. "Yes ma'am," she said automatically, letting the woman in and then going to the drawer where she had stored all the cash she had received. She watched as the woman counted it once, then again to be sure. Her guest let out a low whistle. "My Jacinta, you have been a busy little slut, haven't you?" She divided the money into two portions, one of which went into her handbag and the other she left on the bedside table. She nodded towards the second pile. "That's yours. You, er, might want to buy yourself a new wig. I don't think you'll be able to use that one again - well, not in polite company anyway!" She went and sat down in the armchair. "And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to find out for myself how all those customers got so satisfied. If I enjoy it, I might even stay the night!" She gave a wolfish smile and pointed to the spot between her open legs. Obediently, Jacinta moved over to assume her place. As she did so, she asked, "Excuse me ma'am, but do I know you?" Her mistress gave a bright smile. "Well, that depends, Jacinta," she said, hiking up her skirt and pulling down her panties. "Do you remember going to see a hypnotist?"