The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tales of a Fake Hypnotist Chapter 2

I have dreamt this before.

It always starts the same way. I’m home, in my new condo, asleep on the king sized bed. It feels right, all the way to the slippery feel of the satin sheets.

I hear something that awakens me. I sit up in bed, heart pounding. Is it the cops? I don’t know, so I listen harder. All scams come to an end, and mine could end with a raid at two in the morning.

Instead I hear music. Slow jazz. I hate jazz, but this is…different. I feel the music rather than hear it. It draws me out to my living room, surrounding me, pushing and pulling me at the same time.

She’s there. I see her, but she’s never the same girl twice. Sometimes, she is tall and lithe. She moves like a dancer, flowing across the floor. Other times, she is shorter, and more voluptuous, full figured in the best sense of the word. She has been blonde, red, and dark haired. Once, she was black. Other times, Asian. Today, she is a tall blonde with enormous and clearly enhanced breasts. She is tanned and bleached in the typical southern California way. She wears a black merry widow outfit complete with garters and stockings. I am caught in her light blue eyes.

She beckons me with a finger. I am compelled to come to her. She whispers something into my ear, and my arousal begins. I notice that as my erection grows, so does my inability to move. I should be alarmed, but am not. I know it has happened before, and will again. It is the way it is meant to be. Soon, I am a statue, fully erect and sensitive, but otherwise immobile.

She begins to strip slowly to the music. It is erotic and my eyes follow her as much as they can. She is not dancing for me, rather for her own pleasure and arousal. I can see through her lingerie her nipples are distended, aroused. She rubs them as she grinds to the music, gently at first but eventually she is pulling harshly at her breasts, kneading them, mixing pleasure and pain in an exquisite cocktail.

I can see the desire on her face. She licks her lips, and stares at my obvious erection. I see the shimmer in the dim light on her lips, and ache for their touch. She pirouettes out of my range of vision, but I can hear her releasing the clips on her clothing. Suddenly I feel her hands on my shoulders tracing lines of fire down my back, surrounding me as she embraces me from behind. I can feel her hard nipples like hot pebbles press into my flesh, and even the small strip of hair from her manicured mound as she grinds herself slowly and firmly against my buttocks. I would moan if I could, the pleasure is so intense.

Her lips kiss the back of my shoulder. It feels like a hot coal, then cool as she blows on the spot. Her hands drift down my abdomen and very lightly, she traces a pattern on the near purple head of my now throbbing member. I want so badly to end this torture and sink myself to the hilt in her…but that is not for me to decide.

Her left hand grasps my shaft, and she begins to stroke me from behind. I am already close to climax, and it feels incredible. For the first time, I begin to relax, and allow the sensations to flow through my body. Precum starts to flow, and she gasps as she realizes the extent of my arousal.

Finally, she steps out from behind me and I can see her face. It is lit with desire and she stares almost in wonder, at my erection as she continues to stroke it. I am so close now. I want release. I want to explode all over her, coating her hand and face in my cum. I need it. Yet, I cannot. My arousal builds past what would normally set me off; my nerves jangle with over stimulation.

A smile full of mischief curls on her full, sensuous lips. She is enjoying the power she has over me. She bends down and with the tip of her tongue she touches the crown of my enflamed rod. I feel fire spark up and down the shaft, as she continues to pump in the same slow fashion, relentless in her purpose.

Her lips encircle the head of my tortured warrior, and every impulse in me screams to grab her hair and force myself down into her throat. Fuck her face until I cum, then spray my seed deep into her belly. But I am helpless, frozen as I am. Aroused past the point of desire, I am past even madness. There is nothing but the sight and sensation of her and the slow sucking pressure of her mouth, the relentless stroking of her hand. I would cry or scream if I could.

Slowly and deliberately she swallows my entire shaft. She meets my gaze while she does this, letting me know it is a demonstration of her control, her technique. I am almost relieved because it means her hand can no longer stroke me, but the feeling of my shaft sliding against the rough surface of her tongue is a new and entirely more delicate anguish. Then she begins to hum, and I know any reprieve I had gained was lost.

Waves pulse through me, more than I could ever stand. I want so much to orgasm, to release. I would beg if I could. She reaches behind me and grabs my ass with both hands, pulling me further towards her face, sliding my erection even deeper down her throat. One hand lightly brushes down the center and trails down gently to massage my testicles. Thrills race through my body, pushing me to oblivion.

All at once it ends. She releases me from her mouth and stands to gaze at me reflectively, almost lost in thought. I can see saliva trailing across her face, and the smell of her arousal now comes to me, musky and sweet. Her slow smile returns, spreading from one corner of her mouth to the other. She kisses me lightly on the mouth, and reaches between us to grasp my erection once more.

She is agile. It takes no more than a tilt of her pelvis, a hitch of her leg over my hip and she slides my aching member into her core. No more teasing, no more games. She wants her own orgasm and she wants it now. She pulls heavily on my shoulders, and wraps her legs around me, sealing our bodies pelvis to pelvis. I hold her weight, but I cannot feel it. Only the sensation of being inside her as she moves against me registers. Heat, pressure, and a rhythm as old as time itself build between us. Man was not meant to sustain this level of desire, and I wonder briefly whether or not I will die from this. The music floods once again through me and I feel lost in it, in her.

Her passion has ignited. Her fluids flow freely, coating my shaft and running down between us. I see the sweat covering her body as she moves, her head thrown back, lost in the sensation. I long to lick the perspiration from between her breasts, knowing my paralysis makes it impossible. I only want to increase her pleasure, take her to the place she has taken me, beyond any rational awareness.

I watch her orgasm build like a storm coming over the horizon. Her movements increase in intensity, my erection is buffeted by ripples up and down its shaft as she writhes, moaning with need. Small gasps become larger groans, and eventually loud cries of passion. She is at the pinnacle, balanced on the head of a pin on the highest peak of a mountain. It will take nothing to push her tumbling down the other side, I realize. Between grunts she howls the word I have been waiting for, unknowingly.

I scream as I explode into her, ramming her down the slope into an uncontrolled frenzy. It is beyond orgasm. I pour every ounce of my being deep into her, knowing it is my end, reveling in the sensation. Spasm after spasm racks my body, still held motionless by an unknown force. Her body becomes as rigid as mine, locked into its own orgasmic paralysis. Her scream matches my own…then I feel her fluids drench me further as her release reaches completion. Ripples of pleasure tear through us, less intense than the first, but no less exquisite. She tumbles off me, exhausted from her efforts.

As my erection fades, so too does my inability to move. Eventually, I collapse beside her, content just to breathe and sweat. After a time, questions flood my mind, and I turn to her.

She smiles then caresses my right ear softly before whispering yet another word I was waiting for. Everything gets foggy.

The next thing I know is the sound of my alarm going off. I groan and hit the damn thing until it shuts up, but it’s no use. Once I’m up, I’m up. It never fails. That damn dream wears me out. I always wake up with a boner, but on what I’m quickly starting to call ‘dream days’ it’s almost painful. I guess if you spend half the night with a woody, having an almost wet dream, it does that to you.

I’ll have to talk to Cheri about it. She keeps telling me she’s gonna teach me more hypnosis, but I don’t seem to be learning much. Part of the problem is that I really, really want to fuck her. It gets in the way of being able to concentrate.

When she told me we had been screwing around while I was in a trance, I played it cool, but inside I was royally pissed. I’ve made my living by being the smartest guy in the room, and playing everyone else for what I wanted. A nineteen year old bimbo should not have been able to wrap me around her little finger. And now I didn’t know what to do about it.

In the two weeks since Cheri revealed that she was on to me and my hypnosis scam, life had been weird.

The business was booming, as our clients were all implanted with a suggestion (my idea) to tell all their rich and snooty friends about all the good we did, but discreetly. In short order we had become the worst kept secret in the Hamptons. Our client list was growing quickly as socialites lined up to deal with addictions, self esteem issues, and phobias. Everyone here makes like their life is perfect, but under the surface it’s a mess. My kind of place, suckers lined up around the block.

I grew my beard out, and got glasses. It made me look more like Sigmund Freud which is what people think a hypnotist should look like. Plus, Cheri tells me she likes men in beards. I filed that for future reference, but it didn’t hurt my decision.

Unfortunately the dreams started soon after. I figured it was some sort of after effect from all the time I spent ogling my secretary mixed in with all the hypnosis. I wouldn’t mind normally, but it was getting so I was having this particular dream two or three nights a week. Between that and the business, I was getting really run down, and losing focus. A lethal combination when you’re running a scam.

It was time for me to get into the office. I showered, shaved, slurped back some coffee, and changed into the new Harris tweed suit I bought. I hated it, it was itchy and made me look like a frumpy college professor, but that’s the look we were going for.

Today was a busy day. I looked forward to our follow up with Maxie. In the last two weeks, his life has been difficult enough that his arrogant shell was starting to crack. It wouldn’t be long before he totally broke down. We could call it some sort of a breakthrough and everyone would be full of hugs and kisses. Of course, that’s when the intensive therapy would start. We would start seeing him every day, at $600/hr. I was busy trying to figure out a ‘new therapy’ that would cost a hell of a lot more, but I had a few days. After Maxie was a full slate of new referrals. I could already tell my ass would be dragging by the end of the damn day.

On a better note, Cheri was a master of the ‘office slut’ look, and had outdone herself today. An Armani pinstriped blazer plunged deeply in the middle, with a short miniskirt. She probably was supposed to wear a blouse with it, but she didn’t. Not even a bra but then again, Cheri was still just nineteen and could get away with going without a bra if she wanted. She winked as she handed me a cup of coffee and Maxie’s file. I didn’t really need it, but it looked official anyways.

Maxie stormed through the office door five minutes early in a foul mood. I knew why, or at least could guess. He probably had yet another unsuccessful encounter with one of his girlfriends. Two weeks of torture had started to get to him. His hair was unkempt, his clothes looked like they had spent the night on the floor, and he lacked the arrogant twist to his lips that was normally on his face.

I enjoyed screwing with Maxie. Or rather, Cheri’s screwing with Maxie. She played him like a fiddle, giving him a free show as he leaned over the reception desk. He blanched a little, realizing that she was flirting shamelessly with him. I could read the emotions play across his face as he moved from surprised and happy to depressed and sullen because he knew it could not finish the way he would have liked. She asked him to sit in the waiting area, and then offered to get him a coffee. In the process she showed him more cleavage and as much leg as humanly possible. Maxie looked like he was torn between arousal and sickness.

I chuckled and headed into my office. Maxie had earned his discomfort, and I didn’t feel sorry for him one bit. Still, I wondered how far we could take it without losing him, or having him recall what had been done to him. I had enough sense to realize that everyone had a breaking point. I didn’t want to be around when Maxie reached his.

Two minutes later he came in, glowering and hostile. I liked him better that way. I took out the silver pen and gestured to the recliner. He didn’t even pause, just sat down and eased the seat back. He actually sighed in relief when I brought out the crystal.

“Alright, Maximillian, you know what to do. I want you to look deeply into the crystal. See the light as it spins? It’s drawing your gaze deeper…and deeper in to the heart of the crystal…You find yourself relaxing…your eyelids are getting heavier, so heavy that you find yourself fighting to keep them open…as you look deeper and deeper into the light…and you relax more…it’s okay to let your eyes close and take a deep, cleansing breath, letting out all your tension, allowing you to relax more…and more.

It took five minutes and he was down, but one of the books Cheri had me reading contained a deepener I wanted to use, just to see if it worked.

“Maximillian, you have come to a place inside yourself. It is a very special place. It is your waiting place. It’s a very comfortable room that you find really relaxing, filled with whatever art or decorations you find pleasing to surround yourself with. You like spending time here. I want you to visualize your waiting place, and I want you to add in a further detail. On the wall across from you is an elevator door. It is as ornate or as simple as you want it to be, but you know that what you are waiting for is the elevator. Sometimes, it appears quite quickly, and sometimes it takes a few moments, but you never mind because you are in your waiting place and it is relaxing to you. Take a moment now and visualize this wonderful, relaxing place.”

I waited a moment while Maxie composed a mental image that would work for him. I didn’t want to know what it was, just that he was there. After a few seconds I asked, “Maximillian, where are you?”

His words were slurred, but that was to be expected. His monotone voice tumbled out of his slack lips, “In my waiting place.”

“And are you relaxed?” I asked.

“Yessss,” he responded, his brow furrowing a small amount at the effort.

“Alright Maximillian, you have been relaxing in your waiting place. You hear a small bell with a beautiful pure tone ring out and the door to the elevator opens. You know this is what you have been waiting for. You enter the elevator compartment and notice it is warmly lit, and well decorated inside in the style you most prefer. You smell the fresh scent of pine needles as the door closes behind you, and you see a panel with a series of numbers on it. You are on floor number five. The numbers in the panel drop down to number one. Do you see the panel Maximillian?”

“Yessss,” he replied. He was completely immersed in the visualization.

“Press the number one now, Maximillian.”

I waited a moment and then continued on. “The elevator moves slowly but surely downward, deeper into your own subconscious. You feel yourself relaxing even more as the numbers slowly trickle down…four now, and you feel completely relaxed and at ease. Any problems or troubles you have are far away now, and you can let them go for the few minutes you will be down here...”

I saw his lips move ‘Four’. I figured it was a good sign.

“You are passing three…you breathe in deep, filling your lungs with the wonderful pine air, feeling it swirl inside you, removing any tension you may have left. Letting it out now, you feel yourself go even deeper into relaxation as the breath leaves you.” I was droning on, but it was working. Damned if Maxie didn’t breathe in real deep and let it go at just the right time.

“Two, now, and preparing to enter the deepest trance you have ever been in, Maximillian. Here we can solve any problems you might have. Here it is completely safe. It is the safest place you have ever been. You can talk about anything, and it will feel safe and good. You will find yourself wanting to be totally truthful and honest with yourself at this level, Maximillian. And, one. Totally relaxed, totally at ease, totally honest.”

“…honest.” Maxie’s lips moved.

I took a moment to check him over. He was out like a light, breathing slowly and shallow, using a minimum of effort. His eyes were closed, but even beneath his closed lids, I could tell they were not moving or flitting about. He was under. Damn fine job if I do say so myself.

I rose up and waved Cheri in from the reception desk. Normally, we switched places so I could deal with any potential distractions that came up, and today was no different.

I parked myself at the reception desk, flipping through one of the magazines we keep in the waiting area. Sports Illustrated. I paused a long time looking at the cover. The girl was tall and thin, sporting these huge tits. Had to be artificial, but I wouldn’t have cared about that. Her best feature, though was her big blue eyes. She looked familiar, but I guessed it was because she was a supermodel. She was probably on the cover of ten magazines a month. It didn’t take long for me to get curious about our ‘client’, so I put the phones onto v-mail once again, and crept to the door to have a listen. I couldn’t hear shit, so I eased it open a crack.

“…and deep inside yourself, Maximillian, you know you deserve all that is happening to you. It seems right somehow,” Cheri’s voice intoned in a deep husky pitch that almost had me go under just hearing it. The girl had world class everything, including her voice.

Maxie was in for the full ride. I couldn’t see him fully, but I could see his limbs splayed out as he was fully relaxed in the recliner. I could tell he was all the way under, and not coming out any time soon. His tone of voice, however, had changed. Instead of his normal arrogance, or even his sleepy hypnotized voice, his tone sounded full of fear and regret. “I…I know. It is right.”

I didn’t know what Cheri was up to, but it looked like Maxie had even more discomfort to deal with. I wondered briefly if this was a form of therapy any of the greats in the field ever imagined. Probably not, I guessed. But who was I to argue? Hypnosis was new to me, and from everything I read, it could actually be pretty damn effective if done right.

I didn’t need Maxie sitting there to tell me that Cheri knew how to do it right. At nineteen, the girl was a natural. And she hid it extremely well beneath her bimbo persona. All in all, she had the makings of a great con artist. I would never admit it, but I admired her in a way. Of course, this also marked her as my number one threat. I couldn’t trust her an inch. It added spice to an already very dicey game. I lived for shit like this.

Cheri continued along in this vein for quite some time, reinforcing her original suggestion that Maxie deserved the bad things that were about to happen, and he should accept it rather than fight it. From what I could tell, she wanted him to believe that God was punishing him for being an asshole. It was appropriate given that Maxie was the biggest asshole I’d met in quite sometime, but I wondered how this was going to help us continue milking the son of a bitch.

I realized in that moment, that what I thought didn’t much matter. Cheri called the shots because she was the damn hypnotist. I didn’t know what she was doing, so there was no way I could control it at all.

That little realization didn’t sit well with me. It didn’t sit well at all. A career of being on the con meant I was always in control. I did not like being partnered with a gorgeous, brilliant teenager who had her own agenda. Especially one who could make me ‘fog out’ with a touch of my ear. As pleasurable as it was, I knew that once she had me under, she could do practically anything to me. I couldn’t let that continue to happen. I wasn’t sure how I had allowed it to happen in the first place. It definitely was not like me.

I closed the door and left Maxie to his fate while I pondered my options. I decided I needed to fight fire with fire. I picked up the phone and made a few calls to some old friends. They were curious when I told them what I was looking for, but a few hundred under the table would shut them up. I told them to leave me a message at an old bar I used to go to. The bartender owed me favors, so I knew he’d take my messages for me.

My pulse started quickening the moment I hung up the phone. All cons go through stages, and this one had entered a dangerous new phase. I smiled in anticipation. This game was all about playing multiple angles, setting people against each other and getting away with the cash. And I played it better than anyone.