It all started at the demonstration of erotic hypnosis I gave at the local ‘erotic department store’ a couple of months ago. The owner was a marginal friend, but he knew that I performed as a stage hypnotist on the side and was eager to hire me: apparently someone among their regular customers had heard of the subject and wanted to try it out, and convinced several others likewise. I hadn’t heard of this, using hypnosis for erotic purposes, but after checking it out on the Internet (and finding a host of websites and more on the subject) and reading up on it, and brushing up on my old act and adding a host of new wrinkles, I was at least ready to give the performance a shot. After all, he promised me $250 for one night, which I could always use.
So there I was on a Monday evening, in a small office beside the larger room above the store, dressing for my performance. Knowing appearances here would be a large part of the initial impact, I took pains to present a confident and slightly sinister air. I normally wear earth tones and silver, but for this I picked out a black satin shirt that matched the black slacks I already owned and shined my black boots to a mirror polish. Over the shirt I added a red vest with gold brocade. For accents, I wore my fathers gold and diamond ring and a pair of gold cuff links: to add a mystical flair, I added the gold sunburst medallion I bought years ago in college when I was a member of the SCA. All in all, I looked very different from the publicity copywriter that was my day job.
At the stroke of seven, I entered the larger room and began my performance. That was how I had to advertise it at the show: the state has funny rules about who can perform hypnosis, but stage hypnosis is one of the explicit exceptions. There were twelve people there, ranging in age from early twenties to mid-thirties. I was fortunate to find three people in the audience who were hypnotized in the past, and they became my first subjects. Of the rest, four were exceptional subjects and the others eventually followed into a deep trance state. From then on, it was just a regular stage show, except everyone participated, with the usual hijinks of missing or transplanted organs, seeing people nude, believing they themselves were nude, believing they were the opposite sex, men becoming petite ballerinas and women becoming football players, etc., as well as several orgasms thrown in for each participant for good measure. All good, clean hard-R rated fun: anything more would come at a later show.
When it was over, it was plain that everyone had a good time, and the owner wanted me to return in a couple of months, for the same fee, of course. I had no doubt that tonight’s success would lead to a much larger crowd in the future, and made a mental note to ask for a percentage the next time.
As everyone was filing out, one woman stayed behind, nervously sitting on her chair. When I approached her, she stood and said “Please do that again.”
I admit that I was thoroughly surprised. “Do what?” I managed to stammer, thankful that no one else was present to see my flustered face.
“Hypnotize me,” she said in a hushed voice. “Make me ... do things. Make me ... obey.”
I admit it was certainly a temptation: she was gorgeous, a tall redhead with green eyes and a face and figure to put a model to shame. The only thing that ruined the image was the warring uncertainly in her eyes and the eagerness in her voice: either one would be danger signs but the combination was disturbingly eerie.
I looked over to the door to check to make sure it was closed and the videocamera I put above it was still running: if anything went wrong, I could defend myself in court. Then I raised my finger before her eyes: she focused on it immediately, then, without saying a word, I ran my finger between her eyes and down her cute nose, and her eyes closed and she almost fell completely limp into my unprepared arms. I managed to set her back down on her chair, marveling that she hadn’t come out of trance, then I remembered that she was one of the ones I noticed with the most extreme reactions to the suggestibility tests. Given the number of times she was tranced this evening, plus her extreme desire, I could have sneezed the word “sleep” and she would have fallen into trance.
“Now,” I said in the most authoritative voice I could muster in my present state, “tell me why you want me to hypnotize you.”
She didn’t hesitate a second, although she spoke in the slow drawl people sometimes have when they’re in deep trance. “I want you to command me. Order me, make me obey.
“Being hypnotized means I must obey. I love to obey. I want to obey ...” her voice trailed off.
I wasn’t prepared for this. What was wrong with her?
“Tell me your name.”
“Stephanie ... Raven,” she sighed. “Ste-pha-nie ...”
“Stephanie, answer me: why do you want me to make you obey? Tell me the truth.”
“I don’t want to make decisions, making decisions only makes me hurt. Following orders doesn’t hurt, following orders makes me happy.
“Being hypnotized makes me happy,” she continued, now starting to smile, almost free-associating in trance. “I want to be hypnotized. Hyp-no-tized ...”
I had read on several websites about submissive people and people hypnotized into submission, but this was the first time I heard of someone so submissive wanting to be made even more so through hypnosis. I didn’t feel that I could ignore her, but I also needed to think this over.
All the while I was mulling the situation over, she was muttering to herself words like “obey ... hypnotized ... master.” I was feeling more and more embarrassed, so I counted her back to consciousness. She started to speak but I raised one finger and her eyes started fluttering as she was approaching deep trance.
“Pay attention, Stephanie,” I said. “We will meet in three days.”
I thought of several restaurants we could meet, finally selecting one that I frequented and that I knew was relatively quiet at lunch in the mid-week. If I alerted the owner, I could reserve the back table and be sure that we would not be disturbed as long as I desired. As far as she would see, it would be just a romantic rendezvous, one that her romantic soul would appreciate.
I told her where and when to meet me and she nodded eagerly, then gave me a kiss that rocked me to my feet. While I was recovering, she left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
And I had a lot of them.
I called Lady Lydia to ask her advice. That wasn’t her real name, but it was the name she used on the Internet. During my research into erotic hypnosis, I recognized the picture on her website as the student who shared several psychology classes (and a lot of independent study time, too) with me in college and who suggested I start my stage hypnosis act in the first place. Now it seemed she took her learning much further and farther afield than I expected, becoming a hypnotic dominatrix.
It was not difficult for me to get her phone number: like me, she was an alumni member and all it took was a phone call to the alumni office at the university. She was surprised to get the call, since we hadn’t talked since college. After exchanging some various pleasantries, I explained what had happened, that I was seriously out of my depths here, and asked, or, rather, pleaded with her about what to do.
She didn’t reply for several moments. When she started, she sounded much different, much more serious, much more like the girl I studied with. “As I recall, Vincent, you were a real gentleman in college, someone I was glad to have for a friend, and it seems you’ve stayed that way. Which is something I appreciate, since otherwise you’d never be consulting me.
“And I can understand your confusion. I didn’t think I was going to become a dominatrix but that’s what the cards held for me, and now I’m enjoying it, and so are the submissives I possess.”
“But I really don’t want or need a slave or submissive: I’d just like a good, normal girl in my life, Amanda. Anything else just seems too, well, strange, you know?”
“Have you considered what she wants and needs? She sounds like a classic submissive, and a pretty strong one, at that. What she needs is someone who appreciates her to take care of her, and you’re a pretty good choice. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s had one or more failed relationships in the past, probably abusive ones. For her to find a genuinely caring man to be her master is a godsend for her.
“And just the fact that you’re uncertain about it means you’re more suited than anyone who would want to take advantage of her.
“So I suggest going along with it: you might learn something about yourself, or you might not. But whatever happens, it can’t be any worse off for her.”
I was not entirely looking forward to our lunch date. I should have made it later, but at the same time I didn’t want to put too much distance (in time) between our meetings.
I got to the restaurant several minutes early, but, even then, she was there waiting for me. I fortunately called the owner the day before and warned him that a beautiful redhead would be joining me, so she was already seated at the back table, out of sight of most of the place.
She almost literally jumped out of her chair at seeing me but I motioned her to stay seated. Instead I took her offered hand and, seeing the puzzled look in her eyes, raised it to my lips and kissed the back of her hand: if I was going to be a gentleman, I might as well go all the way. I knew from her reaction that she was most appreciative of the gesture, which went a long way to settle her.
We managed to get through the usual pleasantries during the appetizers without incident: comparing ages (she’s only a few years younger than I) and education (we graduated from the two main public universities in the state) and jobs (she’s a stock clerk in a hardware wholesale company) and figuring out that we share similar tastes in music, comedy and food. It was like having a blind date.
Once the main course was served, we got down to business. Now that the hypnotic ‘glow’ had worn off, Stephanie was showing definite signs of apprehension: I guess the popular misinformation about hypnosis was taking hold. Certainly she was plainly uncomfortable talking about her previous relationships, and I could tell she was embarrassed and maybe even ashamed of them. Or else it was her usual initial reaction to anyone whom she considered would become a potential dominant role in her life: given what I think she must have gone through, the reaction was understandable.
But all of this was creating a wall that I had to break through if I was going to help her. There were things she was not telling me but plainly wanted me to know. I had to ask if she was comfortable with me and the situation here, and she started to answer but stopped, plainly uncertain of how to answer. Fortunately I remembered a trick that would help resolve that situation.
“Stephanie,” I said suddenly, “look into my eyes.”
I never met someone I could hypnotize so easily: it wasn’t spoken as a command, just a gentle request, but no sooner did she respond that her eyes lost focus and her face relaxed.
“Stephanie, every time you are consciously uncertain of how to answer, your unconscious mind will respond for you.
“When you need to respond with ‘yes’, your right hand will touch your right ear and when you need to respond ‘no’, your left hand will touch your left ear. You will not notice doing this, it will be completely natural to you.
“You will not remember these suggestions, you will even forget going into trance here. When you have completely forgotten, you may awaken.”
She blinked her eyes a couple of times and carried on with our conversation as if nothing had happened. However, this time when I asked if she felt uncomfortable with the whole situation, while she was deciding how to respond, her left hand brushed away a stray lock of hair and casually stroked her left ear. I waved off the question and changed the subject immediately.
Getting only ‘yes’ and ‘no’ responses made getting detailed answers difficult, but I persevered, and we stayed there long past our lunch hours and past closing time: the romantic owner was content to let one of his favorite customers have a romantic interlude.
But I did discover the most important items on my agenda: she was attracted me for some reason, seeing me now as I normally am, not dressed for the performance; she was between boyfriends and considered me her best choice for her next relationship; and she was willing to do whatever was necessary to continue the relationship. Immediately.
If we were to continue this weird relationship, we needed to answer the question about where Stephanie was going to live. She was currently crashing with a friend from work, so it was natural to think that she would move in with me, just as she did with her previous boyfriends.
Except I have a small apartment myself, and its crammed with the accumulated treasures and debris of years of living alone, with barely enough room for me, let alone another.
But Stephanie had a solution. Wanda, a remote cousin, owned the old family home, but it was unoccupied. That was because it was out in the country a ways, but it was also close to a state highway so it was moderately convenient for the both of us.
It was one of these old farmhouses, built to hold a large family. There were four bedrooms (one for me, one for Stephanie, one as an office and one we mutually designated as the ‘hypnotism room’) and two bathrooms on the second floor, and a large living room, dining room and kitchen and another bathroom on the first floor. It was partially furnished and it was renovated a couple of years previously, even to the point of finishing the storage cellar below and adding cable and Internet connections in several rooms. The cousin was giving us a break on rent, so it was just a little over what I paid for my apartment, and with Stephanie’s paycheck it was definitely affordable.
I was able to take a Friday off from work to pack up my apartment all by myself and haul the boxes over to the house, but by then I was too tired to put anything away. The next day, Wanda came over to help Stephanie and me move furniture, then Stephanie and I started hauling boxes around.
On a break, when Stephanie was off getting takeout for lunch, I took the opportunity to ask Wanda some more about Stephanie’s past. Their casual relationship hinted they were much closer than their extended family ties would have indicated, and my guess was correct. We were resting on the sofa when I finally manged to bring up Stephanie’s history, and Wanda was more than willing to fill in the blanks.
“Stephie has had at least three boyfriends that I know of,” she said “and probably a couple more. And each was abusive in some way or level or another.”
“How so? I didn’t get the sense that she was physically abused.”
“Worse, emotionally: they’d screw with her head, make her think she was inadequate in any number of ways, in bed, in public, lots of ways.”
Now that I thought about it, that made a lot of sense. But it still left one question unanswered: “How did they ever let her get away?”
“I think it was because she wasn’t any kind of challenge. The guys she went with before you were pretty demanding, but they also seemed to get bored with her after a while. I think she wasn’t any kind of challenge to them, so they lost interest.
“Did you know she had breast implants to satisfy one of her boyfriends? He liked girls with big boobs, but she didn’t make hers big enough, so that was why he dropped her.”
I couldn’t complain, I liked big breasts, too, but hers were quite ample for my tastes.
“Fortunately none of them got her into drugs, thank the Saints,” she said as she made the sign of the Cross, “or into anything risky, like unsafe sex, but I was thinking it would only be a matter of time.”
“Why didn’t her family get involved?”
“Because I’m the last family she’s got in the area: her parents moved to Florida and a retirement home and her older brothers are in California and Colorado. And I’m swamped with my own kids, so Stephie had to go it alone.”
I wanted to know more, but I heard Stephanie’s car pull up with lunch, and Wanda disappeared into the kitchen to get the cold drinks from the refrigerator. I guessed that anything else I needed to know, I would have to discover on my own.
Our relationship had been going smoothly, albeit quite Platonicly, but I knew that somehow, something bad would eventually happen. Specifically, something would trigger painful memories of Stephanie’s past relationships, and I didn’t know what I would do to handle them. Judging from her mood at the time, I’m sure she went through at least one such incident privately in the week since we moved in to the house, but I wasn’t around to see what triggered it or how she coped with it.
Therefore, I was fortunate to discover her weeping in her bedroom when I got back home one evening after working late. She was holding a blouse that looked to me to be totally unremarkable but it obviously had some consequence for her, maybe a gift from an old boyfriend. She hardly noticed when I entered her personal space and sat down beside her on her bed and put my arms around her. She stopped sobbing and leaned into my embrace, continuing to sniffle until she found a tissue. The pitiful sight was so different from the vibrant woman I was coming to know that it nearly broke my heart to watch. Yet I knew that discussion of her past was still out of the question, so I had to do something about her present and future.
It took me several moments to finally get her attention. With my hands and arms occupied, I told her a kiss would be just as effective as a touch, and then I kissed her forehead and said “sleep.” She didn’t so much as fall into a trance as drift off with a gentle sigh. I stoked her hair while I pondered what I was going to say next.
“Stephanie, open your eyes.”
She opened her lovely green eyes but was staring blankly before her. I turned her to stand before the full-length mirror.
“Stephanie, look in the mirror: who do you see?”
“Me: you and me.”
“See only yourself. Describe yourself.”
She described herself in such pitiful language that I was appalled and saddened. That would never do: I had to do something about her self-image, that was the key to her predicament. This was going into territory I hesitated venturing, into hypnotic therapy, which would definitely get me in trouble in this state, but she needed it and I couldn’t refuse that need. Yes, I finally admitted to myself that I was in love with her, deeply in love and was willing to take this risk to help her, who was equally in love with me.
“Stephanie, I’m going to change the mirror now. Its a magic mirror now and it shows people as they should be.” I racked my brains to figure out the best self-sufficient yet obedient image to put there: an Amazon warrior-slave was out, she wasn’t cut out to be that confrontational, but a subtle sorceress and enchantress, a beautiful Fey enchantress, that was the ticket.
Being a copyrighter, the description was easy to create. I started describing her as a Faerie: tall, slender, with pointed ears and slanted, cat-like eyes, a narrow, pointed chin and broad forehead. Since she was half-way there already, she easily accepted the rest of the description. I dressed the image in flowing green robes with gold Celtic designs, with an abundance of shining gold jewelry and glittering gems, and on her head was a jewel-encrusted crown. I watched as her eyes widened as the image took hold.
“That’s you, as you should be, inside, a noble Lady of Faerie, an enchantress. Subtle and strong. Someone who only complies with the laws of the land because she must and answers to only one person, her Lord.
“And standing beside you is your Lord, your love and Master.
“Do you see them? Tell me you see them.”
She didn’t speak but she did nod her head, never taking her eyes off the image in the mirror and in her mind.
“Now remember these images deep in your mind. Each day before you dress and after you are ready go to bed, you will look in this magic mirror: the deepest parts of your mind will see the image of how and what you should be, and each day and each night they will help you take that small step needed to transform yourself into that person.”
She nodded again.
As I helped her lay down on the bed and suggested she go into a deep natural sleep, I began to have second thoughts about what I had done, about the way I did it. But I was also sure that this was exactly what she needed, and maybe what I needed to do for her, as well. That was why I went back to my room, walked into the adjoining bathroom, and tranced myself in the mirror with exactly the same suggestions, into becoming her Lord and Master.
Ever since talking with Lady Lydia, plans had been circulating in the back of my mind, which, combined with the self-confidence suggestions I gave Stephanie and myself, were coming to fruition. If I could give her a measure of control, still in the context of submission, it would go a long way to healing her. And I knew just how to do it.
I found Stephanie sitting on the sofa in the living room, sorting through a stack of magazines. She didn’t react as I came up behind her, so I touched her forehead and whispered “sleep, Stephanie, relax and sleep” into her ear. She relaxed even more, leaning back into my arms and giving me that slight smile of pleasure I noticed she got every time she went into trance.
I took a deep breath, convincing myself to begin. I then started whispering into her ear and into her open and receptive mind: “You already understand that hypnosis is sexy, that being hypnotized is erotic and arousing and extremely pleasant.” I could tell from her growing smile that even reminding her she was hypnotized brought her pleasure.
“What you are going to realize is that you want to give that same feeling to others. You will want to give me the same pleasure as I have given you. To do that, you must learn how to hypnotize.”
Her half-whispered “yes” and nod said she fully agreed with the suggestion.
“In the office, you will find a bookcase with books on hypnotism. You will get the urge to read one and learn from it, and then another, until you have read all of the books on hypnotism in the bookcase.
“And when you think you have learned enough, you will ask to hypnotize me.”
I thought long about the next suggestion I was to give: up to this point, I was merely planting a urge, but this went directly to programming her with exact instructions on how to carry out that urge, and I was suffering a twinge of anxiety over it. Just a twinge. “You will also know without knowing or caring how you know that I would respond best to an eye fixation induction. You have beautiful eyes, and you know I like looking into your eyes. You also know I like it when you make your eyes even more attractive, when you outline your eyes and enhance your eyes through makeup.”
No, it wasn’t anxiety I was feeling: it was a feeling of vulnerability, like I was afraid of creating a Frankenstein’s Monster, instructing her to learn how to hypnotize with the intent of having her hypnotize me, and then telling her my strongest passion regarding female beauty with the intent of having her use it to hypnotize me. I had no idea how she would interpret the instructions I gave her, but I had to trust her: she was trusting me in just about everything, so I felt I had to make an equal effort.
“When you are ready to hypnotize me, you will apply all your skill to making your eyes hypnotically beautiful for me. You know that I will respond best when you do that.”
I knew by now that she accepted just about everything suggested to her in trance. I brought her out of trance, again without her realizing she was under, and she went back to her sorting as if nothing had happened.
But the door to the office is directly across from my bedroom door. As I was getting ready for bed, I noticed Stephanie pause as she passed the office door on her way to her room. I watched as she walked into the office and looked over my reference bookcase, which held, among other things, what few textbooks that I still kept from my old psychology courses, as well as the half-dozen books on hypnosis I recently bought as refresher material and the notebooks of printouts from the erotic websites I browsed. She ran her finger across the spines of several, selecting (as I expected) the largest of the hypnosis books, the one with a lurid picture of a lovely woman staring at a spiral disk. It was the most stereotypical book of the whole collection, dating from the Fifties, and the outdated information within would only reinforce several of her stereotypes about hypnosis, especially all of the pictures of women being hypnotized that it had. She carried the book into her bedroom: it was obviously going to be dry bedtime reading.
Or maybe not: just as I was drifting off to sleep, I could hear the quiet moans from Stephanie’s room that I had heard previously, when she was pleasuring herself. The only thing I could think was that she was masturbating while looking at the sensationalistic images of women under hypnosis in the book. The only problem is that the rest of the books in the bookcase wouldn’t have the same kind of pictures which might be a disappointment for her.
The next morning, I found that book returned to its original position in the bookcase and another book missing: I could guess where it was. Over the following week, Stephanie would devour a book a night. Then, after she had read them all, she took the notebooks and went through them. I also spotted her watching several on-line videos of hypnotic inductions and explanations of same on her computer and I knew it was only a matter of time when she would approach me.
It actually took her another week to build up the confidence to finally approach me.
Over dinner, she started the conversation by saying how much pleasure she got from being hypnotized, how much she enjoyed the hypnotically-induced orgasms and fantasy roleplay sessions I created for her, and then she shyly asked if I would be interested in sharing that feeling, I played coy but she came out and openly stated that she wanted to try hypnotizing me. I asked how much she knew about the subject, and, with a blush, she admitted to reading the books in my library, and doing research on the Internet. She then surprised me by stating that she practiced on two of her friends at work, during lunch, and thought she got the basics down.
Outwardly, I hid the rising excitement I was feeling as I agreed, and we decided to try it out after dinner.
As I finished stacking the dishes away, she disappeared into her bedroom. When I finished, I went to wait in the ‘hypnotism room’ where we had set the reclining chair and sofa and where I had hypnotized Stephanie on many occasions.
Several minutes later, she appeared in the doorway, a completely changed woman. She wore a wisp of black that I never saw before, something that dramatically suggested her ample physical charms without putting them fully on display, with matching sheer black hose. She wore her hair pulled back in a rough ponytail, emphasizing her face and especially her eyes. Her eyes were the biggest difference, subtly but dramatically made up, showing a skill I had not suspected in her: they were, in a word, mesmerizing. She was everything I wanted in a seductive lady hypnotist.
Her crystal earrings sparkled as she stepped into the room and walked boldly up to me. We were so close that I could feel her breasts sliding across my chest as she breathed, and each of my breaths caught a faint whiff of the exotic perfume she wore. She put her hands on my shoulders and told me to look into her eyes. In her high heels, she was almost as tall as I, which put her eyes on the same level as my own.
“Look deep into my eyes,” she said in a sultry tone I never heard her use before. She didn’t know it, but she could have put me into a trance right then and there, just by commanding me to “sleep!” but her inexperience led her to draw out the induction, making it all the more pleasurable for me and likely for her, as well.
“Your eyes are getting heavy, very heavy,” she said as she slowly started to gently sway back and forth, drawing me to sway along with her. “You are getting ... sleepy ... very sleepy.”
She kept repeating those two phrases, over and over, as her voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper, soft and sensual, and my eyes were getting heavier and I was getting sleepier. From her pauses, I was momentarily worried that she was hypnotizing herself, that she might actually be in a trance herself, but the longer I listened, the more I realized she was simply drawing out the induction even longer because she was totally enjoying the sensation.
“You are going ... to sleep ... to sleep ... to sleeeeeep.” I was totally focused on her soft, soothing voice and her lovely, entrancing eyes. That’s why I didn’t notice that she lifted her hand from my shoulder. “You ... will ... sleep!” she said as she snapped her fingers in front of my eyes. I didn’t have time to think as I reacted as she desired, dropping directly into a deep trance.
That’s the last thing I remembered before awakening.
I found myself sitting, or rather, reclining on the sofa, discovering my legs stretched out to the floor and my pants pushed down around my ankles. I felt an incredible peacefulness yet also a profound, almost transcendental joy, as if I had experienced total ecstasy yet couldn’t remember it.
I opened my eyes to find Stephanie sitting on the sofa beside me, naked and deep in a trance. I knew I didn’t do it: could she have tranced herself for some reason? Or did she command me in trance to hypnotize her? I couldn’t remember.
I moved my hand, and discovered a half-dry damp towel between us on the sofa. Obviously we’ve been having some fun.
She never looked more innocent or beautiful in trance, or ever, reclining there, smiling shyly. I didn’t really have the heart to awaken her but I had to know what happened. “Stephanie, on three, Stephanie, awaken: one, two .. three.”
She opened her eyes and stretched and yawned, looking very pleased with herself, which made me very happy, too. “Vincent, what do you remember?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. You had your hypnotic way with me, it seems, and I don’t remember anything.”
“That’s the way I wanted it, but it was only supposed to be temporary.” Stephanie kissed her fingertip then lightly touched my forehead and said “Remember.”
At that moment, all in just that moment, memories of incredible orgasms flooded into my mind. Stephanie stroking my member into repeated orgasms, taking me in her mouth, her ass, between her breasts: I couldn’t believe a man could cum so many times so quickly, or maybe I was just replaying one powerful memory over and over, it didn’t matter, it was just incredible.
I had to thank her, and I told her so, not just in words but with a deep kiss.
“Now you take me,” she said, staring into my eyes, as though she was trying to hypnotize me into complying. “Hypnotize me and fuck me; oh God I can’t wait any longer, please please take me.”
It went against the unspoken rule we made (or maybe just I made) that we would wait, but the waiting period was over, it seemed. Certainly I was ready, even after my mind-blowing and body-shivering experience, and she seemed equally ready. Well, we were both consenting adults: I guess the only thing that really stopped us in the past was my prudish reluctance to take advantage of Stephanie’s submissive and/or hypnotized state. There was nothing hypnotized or submissive about her now, only pure lust, which matched my own desires.
I was more than fully aroused and waiting: my only question was where, my bedroom or hers. But our combined need settled that question: here and now, we didn’t want to move, to take the time moving. Stephanie wasted no time straddling me. However, I there was one more thing to do before we began.
“Stephanie, look into my eyes.
“You will not cum until I do, but when you do, it will be the most powerful orgasm you have ever had.”
Her eyes glazed over, then she whispered something that vaguely sounded like “yes, master” which only aroused me more.
“And you will hypnotize me to have the same incredibly powerful orgasm.”
This time it was clearer: “Yes, Master.”
“Now, hypnotize me.”
“Master, look into my eyes,” she replied in that mindless half-monotone I found so sexy when she did it. I looked and looked deeper and even deeper. Her next words dropped like silent stones into the deep pool that was my unconscious mind.
She broke eye contact, and her hypnotic spell was broken, except I knew without a doubt that the suggestion she implanted would have its desired effect. Because now was the time to find out.
Stephanie started to ride me up and down, thrusting my cock deeper and deeper into her wet and waiting pussy. With each thrust, Stephanie said “Yes, Master” until she was panting the words, slurring them together. For my part, her luscious breasts were at just the right height to stroke and massage, which got me all the more harder and her all the more hotter. And when we came, we came together: our mingled cries of delight could probably have been heard in the next county.
When we were done, we were totally spent. In the afterglow, Stephanie lay curled next to me, my arm protectively around her shoulder, her head comfortably nestled against mine. I wanted to stay that way forever, and I knew she did, too. But that was impossible, but what was definitely possible was to repeat this evening’s experience on special occasions, and I told Stephanie so.
In response, I heard her whisper softly to me: “I love you, Master.”
“I love you, Stephanie.”
I definitely could get used to this, being a hypnotic Master.
Certainly being her hypnotic Master.
Lady Lydia was right, I did learn something about myself.
Three months after the first, I presented the second erotic hypnosis demonstration in a seedy hotel conference room. Most of the dozen people from the previous demonstration were in attendance, plus about a dozen more. Excellent.
When I was introduced, I stepped out from behind the curtain to face the audience. There was a polite patter of applause, which I cut short with a wave of my hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, before I begin, let me introduce my assistant and associate for this evening’s festivities.”
On cue, Stephanie dramatically appeared from behind the curtain, wearing a flowing green evening gown with intricate gold threadwork, and dangling between her breasts on a golden chain was a crystal pendant, which sparkled to match her dangling diamond earrings and the diamond wedding ring on her finger. Her eyes were masterworks of makeup artistry, intense and mysterious, altogether mesmerizing. She looked over the audience with a haughty, predatory gaze, and every man, and more than one woman, was immediately entranced at the sight.
“Stephanie,” I said in a mildly admonishing tone.
Her posture immediately changed. “Yes, Master,” she replied contritely, stepping behind and beside me and lowering her head.
I reached out and, putting my finger under her chin, gently raised her head so she was looking back at the audience. “You’ll have your turn,” I said.
“Oh, yes, Master,” she replied, as her eyes widened in delight and then narrowed in speculation and she smiled slyly. There was at least one small gasp from the audience in response. It was the same phrase I remembered from the old TV series about the genie and her master, except the genie never said it with such erotic potential.
Oh, yes, indeed, this evening was going to be very enjoyable. I could imagine all of the men staring into her eyes and surrendering to her hypnotic power, and certainly some of the women as well, although I reserved the ladies for myself. And that was only the beginning of the fun, for them and for the both of us.
And, of course, especially fun for the both of us.