It wasn’t really much of a challenge. She’d been telling herself for years that ‘smart women are sexy’, repeating the phrase ‘the brain is the ultimate sex toy’ so often that it was practically a mantra even before he got to her. He only had to make the tiniest of adjustments to connect intelligence and sex in her head. Perhaps not in the way she intended, but then again he only told her hypnosis couldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do. He said nothing about what it could make her want to do in the first place.

He wasn’t at all surprised when it began to work. The signs were small at first; a slight flush and a quickening of breath when she put on her reading glasses, trembling fingers when she turned the pages. But he kept reinforcing it with every session, and soon she was squirming out of her clothes every time she picked up a book. They distracted her, she claimed. He knew better than to argue; her brainwashing would happily give her all the rationalizations she needed to convince her that it was all her own idea, and he really just wanted to sit back and enjoy the view anyway.

It was only a matter of months before the simple act of exercising her intelligence made her horny. The gap between opening a book and reading it one-handed shrank on a daily basis, something he encouraged with a few uses of her pleasure trigger as reinforcement. He made sure that she got plenty of “study time” in, buying books by her favorite authors and leaving them in conspicuous places for her to find. (It was probably just as well; she couldn’t go into bookstores unsupervised anymore. Luckily, she had a Kindle, although she was probably the only woman in the world who browsed Amazon in Incognito mode.)

She never noticed the changes he was making, not consciously. He checked in diligently with her deep self every time she was in trance, making sure that she was still comfortable with his programming before he pushed it a little deeper. Each time, she whimpered out that she loved it, that she wanted more, that she loved being this aroused and brainwashed without losing the intelligence she’d come to cherish. He was happy to oblige her. He was even happier when her fingers weren’t enough and she had to come over and sit on his lap to ride his cock while reading Proust. “Good girl,” he whispered as she bounced up and down, knowing her subconscious was absorbing his words right along with Marcel’s.

Her birthday was the culmination of all her hypnotic instruction, a glorious moment that he captured on film for their later enjoyment. He converted the spare room into a library, lining the walls with books while using hypnosis to convince her that it simply wasn’t worth going inside before the appointed date and time. And then, during their very private celebrations, he closed her eyes and led her inside. When she opened them again and sank to her knees in helpless, whimpering bliss, he knew he’d made the right decision.

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