Gender: Female Age: Secret Location: United States
|Introduction: A scientist discovers more than she was looking for.|
My pen-name is Rachael Wright, and I love sexual fantasies. I began enjoying them when I was teen, and I married a man who learned to enjoy them with me. Eventually I started jotting down the ideas so that I could put a favorite fantasy aside for awhile, knowing that I’d be able to come back to it again later. Then my cousin (pen-name Anne Wright) wrote a sex-advice book that included an explanation of why sexual fantasy isn’t the same thing as lust. I got involved in that book by proof-reading and making suggestions, and to my surprise, Anne decided to use my fantasy notes as the basis for a sex fantasy cookbook, which is the last chapter of the book, and will soon be a web site. This is my first attempt to write a short story based on one of my fantasies. If you like it, please let me know, and perhaps I’ll write another.
If anyone else would like to write stories based on the 3D-Radio concept in this story, please do! I’d love to read them!
It began on the three hundredth and first day of experimentation after previous months of research and planning to test a theory that could create a reliable lie-detector by monitoring brainwaves. My basic idea was to send two radio waves through the brain of a person while they were being questioned, and examine the harmonic-resonance variations and correlate them to whether the person was answering truthfully or not. There’s a lot of money at stake for the best patent for a scientifically robust lie-detector, and I had been hired specially to test this theory of mine.
While the idea was simple, the execution was not. The transmitters and monitoring equipment had to be created just for this experiment, and it could take many, many months of scanning to find any useful frequencies, if there were any to be found. One transmitter would be set on a stable frequency, and the other would escalate from the minimum test frequency to the maximum test frequency in millimeter increments.
It was late in the afternoon, and my assistant Marilyn had been out sick. She and Bill usually rotated the role of test-subject, but today Bill had been doing it all day and was tired. Bill, I should mention, likes to whine.
“May I take a bathroom break again?” Bill asked.
“Put a sock in it, Bill, you just went a half hour ago,” I said as my attention was captured by some harmonic patterns I had not seen before. Any time that happens, there’s a potential for a positive correlation.
Bill made no further comment, and it was unusual for him to give up after only one whine, so that may have been why I spent a glance in his direction. He looked confused.
“Is there something else wrong?” I asked, meaning, “Let’s get this complaint over with.”
“Uh, put a sock in what?” Bill asked.
“In your mouth, Bill,” I sighed with disgust.
I started to turn back to my monitor, but Bill started to sit up. Maybe he really did need to pee.
Bill, however, took off a shoe, removed a sock, and put it in his mouth.
I folded my arms and watched, trying to figure out why he was doing this in lieu of his usual griping.
When he just sat there for awhile with the sock in his mouth, I got exasperated. “Take the sock out of your mouth, sit back, and get ready for the next question.”
Bill took the sock out of his mouth and sat back, but had a uncharacteristically blank look on his face.
“Sit up, Bill,” I said, planning to offer to let him go to the bathroom. He sat up, but he still had that blank look, and said nothing. Very uncharacteristic.
“Bill, do you need to go to the bathroom?”
“No ma’am,” he replied without looking at me.
I froze. The implications of what I had just heard were enormous.
“Bill did you need to go to the bathroom when you last asked for a bathroom break?”
Could this be?
“Bill, when you last asked for a bathroom break, were you trying to deceive me?”
“How were you trying to deceive me?”
“I asked for a bathroom break even though I didn’t need to use the bathroom because I was hoping you would think I really needed to and let me go. I was really just bored and I wanted to get up.”
I pondered Bill’s last few responses. His head wasn’t near the transmitter’s electrodes, but was only a couple of few away from it.
“Bill, you’re fired.”
No reaction, but then, I made a statement. I hadn’t asked him a question or asked him to do anything.
“Sit back, Bill.” He did, and another tact hit me.
“Bill, do you live in Topeka?”
Aha! “Bill, that’s a question you’re been trained to answer yes to, even though you know it’s false. You’ve been answering yes to that question for months. Why did you answer differently this time?”
“I don’t know.” Still that blank look.
“Bill stick your finger in your ear.”
“Which finger?” Bill asked.
“You left index finger, Bill.”
“Your left ear, Bill.”
Bill stuck his finger in his ear and left it there. I looked at a timer and jotted down the time. After five minutes with Bill not moving, I told him to put his hand down, and he did without a word.
It appeared that one or both of the radio frequencies was resulting not in lie detection, but in both lie suppression and a remarkable level of submissiveness. My mind reeled with questions: How long will it take to react to this discovery and revise the testing methodology? Why was I not either not affected or not affected as much? How would my company react? With a dangerously large potential for abuse, could I successfully hide this from my company? If I could hide this from my company, should I?
Well, there was definitely no hiding it. Bill is a blabbermouth. I sighed, jot down the equipment’s settings, and turned off the transmitter. This was quite a breakthrough, even if not the one sought, and it was late enough to call it a day and spend the rest of it thinking about all the new questions.
“What are you waiting for?” Bill asked.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Aren’t you going to play some questions for me to answer on the new setting?”
I studied his face. Normal. No more blank stare.
“Bill, what do you remember of the last few minutes?”
“I asked if I could go to the bathroom, and you didn’t answer. Then I noticed it was taking longer than usual for you to play a set of questions. Why?”
I’m pretty sure my eyebrows went up. “What do you say we call it day?”
“Uh, sure, no complaints from me.”
“What time do you plan to come tomorrow?”
“Uh, 9 o’clock, same as usual? That okay?”
“Okay, see you then. Go ahead and talk off.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice!” he replied and hurried out.
Marilyn was out the following day as well, which allowed me to test what I had decided overnight was the most urgent issue: Bill’s ability to recall anything from a time period when he was subjected to the frequencies I had used the day before. He had absolutely no recall. I was careful not to keep him in the dark too long in any single session, so that he wouldn’t notice what would seem to him as missing time periods. He did notice that I removed the clock from the wall, and complained, but to no avail. I also determined that the effects I had discovered required both frequencies, both within a very narrow range, but still wide enough that I could consider increasing the test increments by 5 millimeters, allowing me to cut the broad scan range by a factor of 80%. And I determined that the range of the effect varied with the power output of the transmitters, which wasn’t a surprise, and that the effect was either on or off, which did surprise me. It must have some kind of cascade threshold.
In my mind, I referred to the special frequency combination as the Alpha frequencies, expecting that there might be more with the same or similar effects, and I would identify them by other Greek letters.
When Marilyn came back, I gave Bill the day off with pay. For once, he didn’t complain. I started testing Marilyn on the Alpha freqs, but they had no effect. Odd, I thought, male and female brains weren’t supposed to be very different physically. A single frequency would be easy to test up and down, but making changes to a combination could quite some time to investigate. Since Marilyn had already been subjected to half the frequencies lower than the Alpha frequency, I continued adjusting them upward. In mid-afternoon, I found a Beta set of frequencies that created the same effects in Marilyn that I had observed in Bill.
Marilyn and Bill used to both work from 9 to 5, but I couldn’t do my new experiments while they were both there, so I changed Marilyn to a 6-2 shift and Bill to a Noon to 8 shift for a couple of weeks to give me maximum experimentation time without arousing suspicions too much. I encouraged both of them to take off as much time as they wanted for personal reasons, and whenever they did, I looked for casual volunteers in the company cafeteria.
There might be many other frequencies with notable effects, but at the end of those two weeks, I had answered all my technical questions. I was still in a quandary about how to hide my discovery, if I should hide it, or if I should post it all on the Internet so that everyone would be on a level playing field. That would also allow other people to develop tin-foil hat technology to block at least one of these frequencies, and I was leaning toward that alternative. Before I made a decision about that, however, I wanted to do a little field testing.
“Honey, I’m home!”
“Hi Rachel, you’re home early! Well, compared to the last week or so.”
I kissed my husband and replied, “Well, things have been going well at the office lately, and I’m going to switch back to normal hours, I think.”
“That’s great! Are you hungry?”
“Sort of,” I replied, slipping my hand into my purse.
“Would you…” Robert didn’t finish his sentence, and his face went blank.
“Robert, do you masturbate?”
“Every day or two. Sometimes twice a day.”
I knew Robert had been masturbating as long as we had been married, because he wasn’t as good at hiding the evidence as he thought he was. He’s always been rather private with his inner thoughts, and when I once asked him years before if he masturbated, he replied indignantly that he most certainly did not. I turned off the dual-frequency transmitter in my purse.
“…like me to fix you a sandwich or something?”
I turned the radio back on. “Take off your clothes, Robert.”
Robert stripped quickly and without a word. I stood there and admired him for a moment before continuing. “Show me how you masturbate.”
Robert put his hand on his cock and started stroking it, then licked his hand and continued, and got hard in a hurry.
“Take my clothes off.”
Robert tried to take my clothes off with one hand until I told him to quit masturbating, and then he got me undressed.
“Follow me,” I ordered and marched to the casual dining room carrying my purse, and with Robert close behind.
I climbed onto the table and spread my legs. “Eat me, Robert,” I commanded, and he pulled up a chair and started licking me.
Now Robert has always been good at eating pussy, but he never wanted to have sex anywhere but in our bed. And if there was anything he was fastidious about, it was the dining room table where we usually ate.
It usually take me awhile to really begin to relax, but this time I did in record time, and l rested my legs by draping them over Robert’s shoulders. I could see the kitchen clock from the table. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. For twenty minutes, Robert had been slurping my clit, and I was building toward an eruption the entire time. He kept licking as the first mind-numbing wave of orgasm convulsed my body, and he didn’t even slow down. I was moaning, groaning, and thrashing, and when I sensed I was coming down, I ordered Robert to fuck me.
A moment later, Robert was pounding his cock into my pussy as far as it would go, and I screamed in pleasure. I had noticed in the early minutes of his licking me that his shaft was hard, as it usually was when he ate me, and was very glad that the brain-neutral gear he was in didn’t turn off that autonomic function. By which I mean he was a fucking animal, literally.
I was loving the way we were rocking the table, expecting it to splinter under me at any minute, but it held up for the entire ordeal. Then I noticed that even though he was fucking the daylights out of me, he still had a blank look on his face. I pondered what I could say, or command, and feel totally foolish when I ordered him to “enjoy fucking me.” It seemed like a foolish thing when heard myself say it, but it worked even better than I had hoped. Now he sounded like an animal.
Next I wondered if he was capable of having an orgasm in his current state, or if I could order him to have one. After five minutes of pounding, it was starting to hurt, so I told him to have an orgasm. If it didn’t work, I’d just tell him to stop fucking me so hard, but it did work. And he screamed like a banshee.
His pumping slowed down, but became even more forceful, and I could feel his hot spunk filling my cunt. It actually felt soothing to my sore A-spot.
Robert looked as blank as I imagine a man can when he’s panting hard and gasping for breath. I remember thinking it was too bad he probably wasn’t going to remember this.
He stayed inside me until I told him to step back, and he just stood there as I sat up, scooted back on the table and let his juice drain onto the table. I noted that he was also dripping on the floor.
“Get a kitchen towel and dry off your dick,” I ordered. He obeyed, but he didn’t return. I panicked, thinking he might get out of range of the transmitter, and I grabbed it out my purse and turned up the power to max. Fortunately, he got the cloth from on a few meters away, so I could easily order him to come back with a clean towel for me, and cleaning the floor with his towel as he went. I don’t know why I didn’t just jump up from the table with my purse and follow him, but I guess I really wanted to stay on the table longer.
I sat there enjoying the feeling of his goo leaking out of me, and I leaned over to look at it as well as I could. It was a beautiful sight. I took the towel and rose off the table before using the towel on myself, leaving a puddle on the table. I started to wipe it up, then I started to tell Robert to. I changed my mind again, however.
“Lick it up, Robert.”
Robert obediently sat down in the chair and licked up his cum. Now, this was not an act of humiliation, as he wouldn’t remember it, and no one else would ever know. This was for me. I don’t know why, but I enjoyed watching Robert lap up his own juice, mixed with mine.
When it was mostly gone, I finished wiping it up and had Robert stand.
“Kiss me, Robert.”
I could taste a little bit of his cum, and what I thought was a hint of my pussy juice. It was invigorating.
I turned the power back down and followed him around as I had him pour wine for us, both to cleanse the taste from his mouth and to start getting him tipsy. We got our clothes and went to bed, and before I ordered him to go to sleep, after which I would turn off the transmitter, I decided to try one more thing I had chosen to refrain from testing at my lab. A post-hypnotic suggestion.
I might ultimately decide to post this technology on the Internet, but I was definitely going to enjoy awhile first.
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