The Hypnotic Adventures Of BeautyChapter 2: The Beast free porn video

Okay, so here's what really upsets me. If a guy refers to some other guy as naïve, or innocent, or gullible; well, that's derogatory, right? There's no way any of that would be viewed in a good light personally. But if he's saying it about a girl ... well, that's a whole different ballgame. Those traits in a woman ... especially a pretty woman ... turn men on; make them hard; make them aggressive; appeal to them.

I've had that problem my whole life. I'm too trusting, too quick to agree, too easily talked into things. I guess I learned from my many mistakes in judgment ... but the price I paid for that knowledge was very, very high. Eventually, I became a recluse at the ripe old age of twenty-one ... never trusting a man ... or another woman, for that matter. Women tend to display a wee bit of jealousy around me. And I don't know why. I'm not a threat to them!

In all of my life, only one person has seen me for something other than a sex object or menace. Only one person has ever seen me for ... me. And that, of course, was Riya. In high school, we were inseparable. But then she deserted me and left Baltimore for Cambridge. Oh, gosh, I was crushed. I ran right out and joined some new-fangled church ... I guess it was really a cult. Riya saved me, actually dragging the sheriff, the FBI and a news crew out to the compound, threatening to charge them with kidnapping and plastering it all over the internet if they refused to let her take me home. I had been introduced to sex while I was with them, of course, along with some forms of "physical coercion" that they reserved for girls who tried to escape their clutches. But she saved me! And it wasn't the last time. There was another "cultish" church a year later ... but I saw through their little act ... after a couple of their "elders" had drugged and had their way with me. I swore off churches. Being lonely is better than THAT!

In college I was seduced by an assistant prof, and I even moved in with him for a week. It happened again with a student my senior year. The first little fling ended with a broken jaw (it STILL hurts a little if I chew tough food a certain way). And in the second case, the guy REALLY got rough. No broken bones that time, but I was in a coma for a few days. Riya came home (again), sat with me until I woke up, and then made me press charges, even though I kept telling her it was probably all my fault. (I told her that I should have KNOWN not to upset him while he was drunk. That's just the kind of person he is. Well, the kind of person he WAS. He's in jail now. He got off with probation in my case, but the next girl DID have broken bones.) Oh, man; I can pick 'em, can't I?

So anyway, after that, Riya and I made a pact. No dating. She had her studies, and I had ... my little problem. And so, every Friday night ... every single Friday ... we got on the computer and video-conferenced. It's all I ever looked forward to in life. Period. She was all I had. She was my everything.

When she didn't finish the doctorate, I was absolutely floored. She'd published some academic paper, and evidently some dude saw it and wanted her to join "his team." And so, away she went ... to North Friggin' Carolina! How could she DO that to me?! I was still stuck in the same auto distribution company office in Baltimore that I'd been in for three years. During an "economic downturn," my position as area research manager had been eliminated. They'd offered me a secretarial position as an "interim" spot until they could reinstate me to management. But when things got better, others were moved back up ... that is to say, the MEN moved back up ... but I did not. And every day was the same ... the same parade of customers ... the same sorts of guys, hounding me, asking me out, flirting. Riya and I still talked every week. I was happy for her. Really. She'd finally found a guy ... someone she genuinely liked and respected. And loved. I saw it in her eyes, even on the video calls. My Riya was in love! But I was stuck. Alone.

And then, one day, out of the blue, she walked into the office. I squealed and hugged her, and I was so excited I couldn't stay still! We hadn't been together ... really together ... in eight months, since the last Christmas break period. The first thing she asked me was which office my boss worked in. And then she marched me right in.

"Hi there!" She said, smiling brightly. "Betty is quitting! Sorry for the short notice. She's had a better offer. You can keep her last paycheck!"

Mr. Morehead (who had made several passes at me over the past year ... some of which were quite physical, despite his being married) protested rather vehemently. As a final bit of persuasion not to leave, he showed me a letter from the head of the company which offered to reinstate me to my former position. But when I noticed that it was dated nine months before, I got mad and started crying. And I allowed Riya to lead me out of there. Forever.

She had arranged for movers, she told me ... for the next day! We went out that night and got drunk, and we talked and talked and talked. In my apartment, we shared the single bed ... though we both wore nightgowns, of course. No hanky panky. We weren't "that way," though we each swore that we were "tolerant people." Oh, gosh, I was on cloud nine! Leaving Baltimore! Leaving my horrible "stuck" life! And once again, my savior was my best friend. We threw the entirety of my life's accumulations into seven large cardboard boxes (four of which contained only books). The movers came, and within thirty minutes, the apartment was empty. Only then did I realize that all the cleaning supplies ... even the broom ... had departed, and there was no way to clean. But she dragged me down to the super's apartment and struck a deal with him to clean it, counting out four one hundred dollar bills. And then she led me out to her little red sports car, and off we went!

It should have only been a five hour drive, but Washington traffic was horrid! We stopped at a motel in Fredericksburg that had a restaurant, and we split a bottle of wine and had hamburgers and French fries, and then we split a piece of Boston Cream Pie with coffee and Kahlua. She told me that her boy friend (who owned half the company!) had promised to hire me "in any capacity where I might fit." She'd already arranged for an apartment near one of the universities, and she said she would introduce me to people during a party on Friday ... which was just two days away. There were lots of parties, she told me. This one was for a prospective customer ... meaning a major computer manufacturing firm (in this case from Japan). And, there was to be an employee party the NEXT Friday.

When we arrived in the Durham area, she bought me an air mattress and some sheets, blankets and pillows, so I'd have a place to sleep in my new apartment before my stuff arrived. I was forced to admit that North Friggin' Carolina was a pretty place to live. There were more pines than there were in eastern Maryland; and lots of hardwoods, too. Everything was so green! That night, she introduced me to Tony, her boyfriend. Nice guy, though I was a little surprised to think of him as her "type." But the thing that convinced me that everything was going to be alright was how he treated her. He was obviously head over heels, and it cheered my heart to see her with someone that truly loved her. The day after that, I went in and did administrative stuff. You know ... filling out forms, getting my security badge ... things like that. I still didn't have a position to apply for, but Riya had let everyone know that that would be decided later. The people all seemed nice, but they were still pretty predictable around me ... the guys flirted and the gals looked at me with a little mistrust in their eyes. Some things never change.

And that evening was the party at the big mansion for the client. It was nice the way Tony had it all set up. He had hired a bus that went all around the area and picked up the company people that needed to attend ... you know, like the marketing folks, the sales manager, key R&D people, etcetera. That way, nobody would have to worry about drinking and driving. Riya came over and picked me up. She'd gotten me a dress and some shoes to wear for the evening, since my stuff hadn't arrived yet. I soon figured out that I was to be window dressing for the event. I didn't mind ... not really. I tried to tolerate the men who stood too close; and while I did NOT tolerate the four different hands that caressed my butt, I never made a scene about it. I got tired of smiling. And in the end, I was very happy when the bus took us all back home.

The following week, I interviewed with several of the managers for executive assistant positions. One or two were sort of lecherous, and I was surprised when one female director showed obvious sexual interest. Riya mentioned several times about interviewing with the other owner of the company, William Smythe (whom she only referred to as "Billy"), but I hadn't met him yet. I picked up a few tidbits of gossip about him around the cafeteria and waiting rooms from some of the secretaries. None of them had ever actually seen the man, and a few expressed doubts that he even existed. Smythe was supposedly the brains behind the invention that launched the firm. "Quantum computing," they called it. I asked Riya about the rumors later in the week.

"Oh, yes," she said, laughing. "Billy exists alright! He's become one of my best friends here. You're just going to love him!" And so, I let the topic drop.

On that next Friday, I called Riya and tried to beg out of the employee party, but she told me that would be extremely bad form. And once again, I didn't argue. She had gone to SO much trouble to get me this job (whatever the job ended up being), and I didn't want to appear ungrateful. I was awfully tired, though, and my things were scheduled to arrive that day. Also ... I sort of dreaded wearing that skimpy little dress from the previous week's party, knowing that I'd be feeling more paws on my derriere before the evening was over. Riya picked me up again ... and she'd brought ANOTHER dress; this one bearing an awfully fancy label. It must have cost a fortune! But it was, if anything, even more daring than its predecessor. The matching shoes sported four-inch heels ... something that I was NOT comfortable in. It all fit perfectly. Riya was especially excited by my wearing it. And so, off we went.

The party was in full swing when we got there. The booze was flowing, and everyone was having a great time. Riya handed me a tall cranberry cocktail, and I was so nervous that I drank it down pretty quickly. I started feeling the effects of it, and went in search of hors devours. They helped a little, but made me thirsty; and before I knew it, there was another drink in my hand. People were nice, overall ... even the letches. The woman who had interviewed me earlier in the week took me aside and made some small talk before asking me the question that I'd half expected. She was very nervous, and I think I did a pretty good job of letting her down easy; telling her that I was flattered, but that I didn't go in for relationships like that ... but I truly wished her luck in finding someone who did. She held my hand (just a little too long) and thanked me, before going off to stalk the new girl in the secretarial pool.

By now, I had regretted drinking the two tall cocktails. I really needed to pee; and as if by magic, Riya was at my side. She led me across the lobby and pointed up the far staircase. Third door, she said. Can't miss it. I hurried up as fast as my wobbly heels would allow, but when I got to the top and looked down the short hallway of closed doors, I couldn't remember if she had told me it was on the left or right. Also, a couple of the doors obviously went to closets, and I didn't know if those were supposed to count. I approached the third door on the left and listened. I thought I heard a noise, so I knocked lightly. When no one said anything, I cracked it open and peeked inside. It was a bedroom. There was a man sprawled on his back in the center of a queen-sized bed, and the naked woman who was straddling him was moaning so loudly that it was no wonder they hadn't heard my knock. I watched them for several long moments until my guilt (and the urgent need to relieve myself) drove me to softly close the door and continue my search.

I tapped again on the door across the hall. Again there was no response, so I took a deep breath and opened it, ready for just about anything. It was a living room of some sort. Did bathrooms in mansions have sitting rooms outside of them? My need drove me to explore further, so I went in and let the door close softly behind me. There was light coming from an inner doorway (with an open door) to my left, and I tentatively wandered in that direction. When I finally reached it, I looked in and observed a very odd sight. It was a big room ... really big ... with one wall covered entirely with full bookcases. The other three walls were completely covered in white dry-erase boards, and there was odd mathematical scribbling everywhere I looked. In the center of the room were four desks, which all faced each other, each with a computer monitor, so that four people could work simultaneously, I guess. But only one man was there ... a BIG man, sitting with his back to me.

"Excuse me," I said. "Can I use your... ?" And he turned toward me.

He turned to his right to do this (that's sort of important in my narrative); and immediately, I took a step back, away from him. My mouth was open because I was in the process of asking him a question, and it stayed open. I can remember thinking to myself: He's wearing a mask. Why is he wearing a mask? But then a couple little things began to register in my brain. This mask made his head look huge ... and it only had one eye, right in the middle of the forehead. And ... the mask had no mouth whatsoever ... and ... no nose, either. In fact, the only thing that WAS on the mask, other than the single bulging eye, was an ear that looked too small, and was positioned generally where the right cheek should be. And then that one eye ... that single huge eye ... blinked. And I realized that there was no mask at all.

I screamed.

Okay, let's talk about screams. When people write a scream, it's usually "Eeeek!" or something ridiculously similar. In my case, a scream should probably be spelled: "Mwuaaaah!" only in the key of G, and as far right as you can go on the keyboard. I took another step backward, but my right heel slipped on the hardwood floor, my feet both jackknifed out in front of me, and I fell hard on my ass. Now he was moving toward me. He was just a wee bit shorter than I would describe a "giant" ... at first guess, I'd say maybe six-six and well over 250 pounds. I tried to use my feet to scoot back along the floor away from him, but my heels could find no traction. His hands were coming up from his sides, toward me ... and he said: "Cor, girl! 'Y okay?"

I took a breath. It was the first one since the scream, and it was nowhere near adequate to return the required amount of oxygen to my system. And so, I began to pant. Every part of me was tingling as if I'd just stuck my finger in an electrical outlet. I raised a single hand toward him, palm outward, and he abruptly stopped his advance. Still gasping, I rolled to my left until I could get my knees under me. I was looking at the floor, trying to get my breath back, swaying slightly on my hands and knees, and I finally decided to attempt speech. "H ... H ... How ... How ... How... ?"

And the man without a mouth said: "Crikey, love. Take a breath! How how how WHAT?"

I gulped and managed to inhale deeply. I forced myself to look up at him so that he could see that I didn't appreciate his sarcasm. "How are you talking?" I asked firmly.

"Ah. That. Sorry," he said. And he turned his face further to the right.

Immediately, it all became apparent. I'd only been seeing half of his face. Most of what was supposed to be on a face was on the left half. There was the other eye ... but it was substantially smaller than the right one, and it was about two inches lower that its mate. The nose was there, but it was immensely broad, stretching from the center of his face to his left cheek. And there was his mouth, too, but it was so far to the left that it was practically against his shoulder. The mouth was actually of average size ... but because his head was about fifty percent larger than a normal head, it appeared to be abnormally small. And the line of the mouth wasn't parallel to the floor ... it was canted at about a twenty degree angle to the left.

Now remember, I was on my hands and knees, looking sideways up at him. I studied him for several long seconds, and then looked back down. "Your right eye is dominant," I observed. That made sense to me. His eyes were spaced so far apart that he couldn't focus both of them on something at the same time. That's why he'd only been displaying one profile.

I had to look back up when he began making sharp, grunting sounds, and it took me a moment to realize that he was laughing. "Blimey, girl! I've 'erd a few comments about m' looks in m' day, but that's the first time anyone's ever said THAT!"

I took a deep breath and ignored him. I got my left foot under me so I could stand, but the damned heel was too high, and I twisted my ankle. My body jerked around when I accomplished that little maneuver, and I wound up sitting on my ass again with my legs in his direction and they were splayed apart. He twisted his head back to the left a little, and his larger, goggling eye widened even further in shock. He was blushing, and I realized that he couldn't look at me without seeing directly up my skirt. I allowed my shoulders to slump in resignation, and I burst into tears.

That REALLY had an impact on him. He closed his eyes and moved slightly away before opening them again and once more giving me a view of his deformed left profile. "Eer, now! Don't do that! Please, don't cry like that, Betty! I couldn't stand if it you..."

"I peed!" I sobbed.

He blinked. "Wot?"

I tried to corral my crying without results. "I peed," I told him between sniffs. "I came in looking for a bathroom, because I had to go so badly. I STILL have to go! Do you have one I can use?"

And he said something like "Lewsorer," and moved his left shoulder a little.

I studied his face carefully, and the thing I remember most vividly about that moment is that he was studying my face ... not my crotch, but my face. I said: "What?"

"Loo's over there," he jerked a thumb this time, indicating a door. When I didn't reply immediately, he said in slow, Americanized English: "The water closet. The toilet. The Bath Room."

"Don't make fun of me!" I barked. "I'm trying really hard here!" And he shrank back away from me a little. I tried to get my right foot under me, but again the heel slipped on the slick floor.

Suddenly, he reached for one of my feet; and I said urgently: "Don't!" Yet again, he shrank away from me, this time with real emotional pain lining his face around his eyes. My heart went out to him, and I let my shoulders slump again. "I don't want you to get your hands wet," I explained softly. "There's a puddle." I took a shaky breath. "Oh, I can't BELIEVE I did this! I'm SO embarrassed!"

Before I could do anything else, he'd dropped to his knees and he was unbuckling the accursed shoes, setting them aside when they were off. Then, he stood and offered me a hand, which I took gratefully and let him help me to my feet. He continued to hold it as he led me to the door of the bathroom. "Thank you," I said softly, smiling shyly up at his face. And I went in and closed the door.

Once inside, I stripped out of the dress and quickly relieved myself. Then I peeled off my soaked panties from my ankles; and not knowing what else to do with them, I wrapped them in tissues and threw them in the trash can under the sink. Of course, there was no bra with this outfit, and so now I was completely nude. I found a washcloth and cleaned myself, then I set to work on the dress. It was massively stained on the back, and smelled strongly of urine. I washed it out ... at least the bottom half of it, using soap from the hand dispenser ... over and over, and then tried to wring it out as best as I could. I found a huge, soft towel in a cabinet and wrapped it securely around me, tucking the thing tightly into itself just above my breasts. I opened the door and found him kneeling where I had previously sat on the floor, rubbing the hardwood with another towel. When he heard the door, he stood, shifting nervously. He appeared very startled by my appearance, and he couldn't keep from raking my body with his eyes ... though he was obviously trying hard not to. I somehow found that kind of cute.

"Do you have a hair dryer?" I asked him, before realizing my mistake. He was completely bald. He blinked at me. "Do you think you can find one?" I persisted.

"I ... um... 'Ere may be one in one of the bedrooms down th' 'all."

"Could you go look for me, please?"

He glanced nervously toward the door I'd entered from. "I ... um ... Yeah. Okay." He began to walk slowly in that direction.

"Wait!" I urged. He turned back while I asked: "How did you know my name?"

"You're Riya's friend, ain't cha? You were at th' party last week."

I tried to figure that one out. "Were you there?" I asked him. But he only smiled ... rather sadly, I thought ... and started for the door again. Startled, I blurted: "You're Billy, right?"

He looked back at me. "Yeah. I'm Billy. How d' y' do." And he was gone.

I went back to work on the dress, rubbing and patting the wrinkles out with another towel. I was immensely distracted from my chore by my thoughts. I had a hundred questions, but I didn't want to ask any of them to HIM; at least, not right now. A few minutes later, he was back with a hair drier.

"Found one in the loo down the 'all," he muttered, handing it to me. I reached out and took it, but before he could let go, I had laid my other hand on his.

"Billy! You're trembling! What's the matter?"

He released the dryer and snatched his hand away. "Nuthin'. I'm fine, thanks."

I studied him carefully. At long last, I realized what I'd done wrong. "Oh. You don't go out. You never leave these rooms, do you? You never let anyone SEE you!" He took a step back and shuffled his feet. I dropped the device onto a chair and advanced the step he had retreated. As I reached out and laid both my hands on his arms, he suddenly took on the countenance of a startled rabbit.

But before he could bolt away, I said gently: "Oh, Billy ... I'm SO sorry for all of this! I invaded your sanctuary and turned your whole evening upside down! I've been horrible, imposing on you, and asking you to help me, and sending you out, and..."

"Cor, blimey, Betty! Stop! Everythin's fine! I'm glad I could 'elp."

I tried to give him my sweetest smile. "Well ... thank you." I picked up the hair dryer and eventually found a place to plug it in. I had draped the dress over the back of a chair, and when the dryer roared to life, it killed conversation for several minutes.

At last, I turned it off and picked up the garment to examine it. I held it out to him. "Do you smell anything?"

He dutifully sniffed it. "Naw. It's fine."

I gave him another smile before taking it into the bathroom and putting it back on. I primped a little in front of the mirror, but because I'd left my purse downstairs, there was little I could do. I glanced at the door, wondering. Why was I so nervous? I went out and held out my arms, letting him inspect me. "What do you think?" I asked.

"Good as new," he declared. He turned a little to the right and let me see his smile. We stood, staring at each other. I had returned that smile, and now it just seemed to fix itself as a permanent resident on my face. He shifted nervously, obviously trying to think of something to say. Finally he muttered: "So ... I guess yer gonna give Riya what for!"

I kept smiling. "Why?"

He swallowed nervously. "Why, fer not warnin' you about me. About THIS!" He waved a forefinger around in front of him, indicating his face.

I contemplated him for another moment. "Can't you see, Billy? This is the way she wanted it to be. This is the only way it COULD be!"

He blinked at me for a long fifteen seconds before shaking his head slowly. "Sorry. I don't catch yer drift."

I grinned even more. "If she had told me about ... that, how do you think I would have felt BEFORE I met you? What emotion do you think I would have had?" His brow creased in thought for a few moments. Finally, he just shook his head, questioningly. So I answered. "I would have felt pity, Billy. Before I ever met you, I would have felt pity toward you. You don't deserve my pity ... or ANYONE'S. You deserve respect. And this way ... the way she set it up ... that's the first emotion I have toward you."

"Well," he said thoughtfully, " ... right after the emotion of scarin' the piss outta 'y."

I gasped and fixed him with a stare that contained as much indignation as I could muster before we both burst into laughter. When I finally stopped, I protested "Billy, you can't tell ANYONE what I did, okay?" He rubbed the bottom of his face thoughtfully, as if considering it. "Billy, please! You have to promise me that you'll never..."

"Alright, alright," he laughed. "Yer secret's safe w' me, love, I swear."

"You won't even tell Tony?" I asked, smiling. "You're best friends, right?"

He crossed his heart. "And yeah, 'e's m' mate ... but just between you 'n me, 'e can be a bit of a wanker sometimes."

"What's a wanker?"

He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet a little. "Uh ... y' know. A tosser ... a plonker." I guess my face must have looked pretty blank. Finally, he gave an exasperated grunt. "A bloke who just sits around an'..." He made a fist and pumped it in front of his groin in what I would call a rather ... crude gesture.

I felt my cheeks go hot, and I laughed again. Then I sighed. I had so many questions, and when I finally launched into a few of them, he answered readily. About the three walls full of equations, he said: "I don't wanna look at 'em right now. When I do, I start thinkin' in numbers instead o' English. Sort kills a conversation." When I asked about the computers, he showed me that he could tap into several different servers ... including the mansion security setup. When I had walked in on him, he had been "monitoring" the party downstairs. That's where he had first seen me, he said ... during the previous week's party on the security monitors. And, after I asked, he told me that, no (smiling, while I blushed), he could NOT tap into what was going on in the guest bedroom, across the hall. The cameras were only mounted in the "public areas," such as outside, and the hallways and major rooms downstairs. No bedrooms or bathrooms.

As he flipped through the various cameras, showing me the views, we caught sight of Riya climbing the stairs toward this upper wing. I glanced at him, and he at me, and I could tell that we both wished we had a little more time alone. Bowing to an overwhelming urge, I reached out and gently grasped his upper right arm with both of my hands. "Billy, I ... um ... I just want to apologize for the way I acted when I saw you ... and to thank you again for everything you did." He blinked down at me, obviously trying to read whatever signals I was sending. I wasn't entirely sure what kinds of signals I was TRYING to send. Suddenly, I felt like crying, but I held myself back, and took a shaky breath, instead; then I smile up at him.

"You realize that you had me captive here ... in your personal castle. I was a damsel in distress, naked ... wrapped in a bath towel, without anywhere to go. And you saved me. You're my hero!"

He cleared his throat. Nervously, he reached up with his free hand and placed it tenderly over mine on his arm, then he slowly led me into the living room, where he plucked a long-stem red rose from an arrangement in a vase and he handed it to me. I took it, smiled, and automatically held it to my nose. "You keep flowers in your apartment?" I asked him.

"Riya put 'em 'ere. Said it'd brighten the place up."

"Thank you." I couldn't keep the blush off my face. And Riya was suddenly there, grinning broadly, looking at the two of us. I considered taking my hand off of his arm, but I didn't.

"You need to go downstairs," she said, looking at me.

"Me? Why? Can't I stay here and talk for a little while?"

She shook her head. The smile never left her lips. "Nope. You're the entertainment. I promised Tony I'd find you and send you right down to him."

"Entertainment?" THAT didn't sound good.

"Yep. I don't think I've ever mentioned it to you, but Tony's an amateur hypnotist. When the parties are small, friendly gatherings, like this one, he sometimes tries it out. People laugh and have fun. He's put me under ... lots of times. It's really kind of nice."

I was seriously startled. "Hypnosis? Riya, no way! I'm not going to let him do that! Especially not in front of a crowd of people I've just met!"

She shrugged. "Well, it's your official introduction to the employee group, anyway. You have to go down. Now."