Hypno Harem Read Online Free

screen. A good thing because she couldn’t stop now. It would take two strong men to pull her hands from her breasts and pussy. Four strong men! It would take one gripping each arm and leg to keep her from pleasuring herself. Then when they had hold of her, they could lay her on the desk and take turns using her!
    “Ohhhh, God!”
    She’d moaned again! She couldn’t keep quiet, didn’t want to keep quiet. She wanted the world to know how hot she was. She felt like she was going to scream. Oh God, oh God.
    “Oh God, oh God…”
     
    W oody raised his eyes from his tablet in disbelief. Candice’s own eyes were closed, oblivious to anything outside herself. She sprawled in her chair, head thrown back. One hand was busily fondling her left breast, now fully exposed. The other hand was out of sight, somewhere under the desk, but judging by the wet sounds and rapid movements of her arm, it was engaged in pleasuring her vagina. She was moaning too, though not so loud she could be heard by her mother… yet.
    He was shocked. He’d only meant to have a little fun, but this , this had gotten out of hand. Yes, Candice Starke was a stuck-up bitch, but she didn’t deserve to be publically humiliated. And it would be public any minute now. Someone would walk in from the hall. Or her mother’s meeting would break up.
    “Oh, God,” she whimpered. “Woody, fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
    This couldn’t go on. Whatever fun Teddy Bear Woody was having in Candice’s subconscious, he regrettably had to put a stop to it.
    He took a deep breath, calmed his mind…
    It took him nearly ten minutes to extricate Candice from her runaway fantasy and by the end he was sweating almost as much as she. She was just returning to reality when the door to the inner office opened and another grad student walked out. Before it closed, Woody could see Starke at her desk. She saw him too but said nothing. The door swung shut and Woody abruptly realized he was alone in the anteroom. In the brief moment his attention was elsewhere, Candice had bolted, doubtless for the women’s restroom. He was glad. He hoped that she thought he was too much of a nerd to have even noticed her public masturbation.
    He waited for Starke to open the door and invite him in. This was a scheduled meeting. After several minutes he finally rose and knocked. No response. He sat back down. Five minutes later, he knocked again. This time, there was a curt “come in.”
    “Have a seat,” she said grudgingly. Emma Starke was a tall, handsome woman in her early forties. She had brunette hair that she wore in a short pageboy, feminine but not fluffy, the kind of cut favored by serious professional women. She had a sharp nose and blue eyes and simple pearl earrings. She kept her make-up to a minimum, enough to smooth over the laugh lines and wrinkles that came with middle age but no more. Today she wore a navy blue power outfit—jacket and skirt—over a white top. She handed him a heavy folder, his dissertation. “This will need to go through another draft.”
    He was disappointed, though not surprised. “What’s wrong this time?” This was his fourth draft.
    “I’ve marked the problem areas. Basically, the line of argument is unsound. There’s nothing in the literature that supports your proposition. Frankly, in my opinion, it’s, well, loopy . Original thinking is well and good but it has to be backed up by research.”
    “Last time, you said I borrowed too much from the literature.” In fact, she’d all but accused him of plagiarism.
    “Yes, well, you still do.”
    “How can my line of argument be both too original and too ‘borrowed?’”
    “To quote Dr. Johnson, ‘Your manuscript is both good and original. Unfortunately, the parts that are good are not original and the parts that are original are not good.’ I want to see another draft from you in ten days. If your dissertation isn’t substantially improved, I’m afraid I’ll have to formally reject it. You