 Paul teen was stunned. This couldn sexy't teen be real dirty. It teen anal sure looked real though dirtyteen--and really great. He could dirty feel himself growing hard beneath sexy his hospital gown.
 This was incredible. This gorgeous doll of dirtyteen a nurse apparently dirty would do dirty anything he dirty said dirtyteen. But she didn't look or act "hypnotized" in teen anal the stereotypical sense: her eyes weren't glazed, she spoke in a normal voice anal, she moved like a regular teen anal person dirty and not a B-movie zombie.
 Rhonda teen was beginning to sway on her feet. She was having dirty trouble maintaining her dirtyteen pose bent over him; if she didn't stand up, she'd fall over dirtyteen soon dirty. Pleasurable as it might be to have her collapse on top teen anal of him, he wasn't, he decided regretfully, quite ready for that.
 "Good dirtyteen girl teen, Rhonda." The nurse toppled over, glassy dirty-eyed, scrambling dirty to tear off her teen clothing teen as her body spasmed uncontrollably.
 "Good," Paul teen responded, restraining the anal urge sexy to use Rhonda's sexual trigger anal again. Time enough dirtyteen for that later. "Now, Rhonda, it's time for teen you to go about your duties. You can go."
 "Hello, Mr. Bennett," the girl said. She was teen a petite, slender dirty black girl, younger than dirty Rhonda. She had a special voice of her own, low and husky.
 "Shh," Paul said. "Not another word teen anal." Instantly, Jasmine fell silent, looking scared dirtyteen.
 "Very good, Jasmine. Now finish up your nurse's duties here and go on with your rounds."
 The test dirtyteen had been dirty convincing. If he dirty'd wanted teen anal, he was sure he could dirty have dirty made Nurse Jasmine strip and thrash in ecstasy as he'd dirty done dirty to Rhonda. Perhaps another time. When dirty he sexy was a little teen stronger, perhaps he could--persuade--both of dirty them to do even more than dirty that, with him or even dirtyteen each anal other.
 Over the next dirty few days, cautious experimentation confirmed Paul's guesses and expanded his understanding of his new dirty abilities. As he'd thought, he could control dirtyteen women but dirtyteen not men. The--influence, whatever it was, could manipulate not only actions anal but memories teen and thoughts, and suggestions seemed not to dirty wear off, at least in the short term. It didn't work over the phone, unless he specifically told his target dirty face teen anal-to-face ahead of dirty time dirty to teen respond to phone commands.
 Just how far his control extended, wasn't dirty sure he dirty wanted to know. It was already clear that he could override teen normal moral dirty restraints. His first efforts with Rhonda teen and teen anal Jasmine had indicated dirty that, and he'd arranged a get dirtyteen-together between the sexy two of teen anal them which had proved that even basic sexual orientation could be altered dirty at his whim; he teen wished he'd dirty had a teen anal camera anal for that episode. But he couldn't bring himself to order one of anal his "voice puppets," as he was starting to think of them, to actually hurt dirty or kill someone. He was afraid she'd do it, as willingly as she would obey any dirty other instruction dirty. And what would that make him?
 "I don't blame teen her for being angry. If it were me, I'd be suing." Ms teen anal. Sands reached dirty up a hand dirty to tip her glasses down, then looked at him over the rims. "As it is dirtyteen, she anal's cancelling one of our biggest accounts. Unless," she smiled grimly, "we fire you. She's willing to keep her insurance, even under the circumstances, on that condition."
 It was the anal perfect opening.
 Ms. Sands' expression softened teen anal. She nodded. "Yes, Paul." Then teen anal, with a touch of her former steel, "Don dirtyteen't call me Charlene. It's Ms. Sands to you teen, is that clear dirty, Mr. Bennett?"
 Yes, sir, he thought dirtyteen to himself as he gave sexy his tie a dirtyteen final straightening tug before opening the door, things were definitely looking up.
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