The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Offer

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I woke up, and the moment I came to full consciousness I realized Trish was in my arms, sleeping quite soundly. Yes my cock was already hard but my sweatpants were still on thankfully. She felt wonderful there in my arms, snuggled into me for warmth under the comforter. Her breathing, it really was quite hypnotic when I focused on it but I had to get up and pee. I whispered to her to roll over to her other side and she did, slowly but surely. I slid out of the bed as easily as I could—the memory foam mattress is cool for such incidents because there’s almost zero-transfer of kinetic energy across the surface.

I stood up, hit the head, then walked into the living room when I turned back to glance at the alarm clock: 6:18AM. So, my little gift to myself worked, another happy moment for me as I took a nice deep breath and then exhaled it in a slow sigh. It wasn’t trash day so I didn’t need to go take the can to the curb but I did go get the newspaper. Upon opening the front door the smell of freshly cut grass hit my nostrils; apparently one of my neighbors had done it the afternoon before and it was wonderful.

The sun was close to rising off in the distance, so I had to decide how I wanted to handle things with Trish as she woke. I went to the kitchen and took a gander at the contents of my fridge: eggs, check, cheese, check, some green peppers, check, jelly and butter spread, check, and of course bacon, check. I removed the items and started prepping to make some omelets hoping that would be fine with Trish. I did my best to make as little noise as possible but I knew some of the pans might wake her up if they clanked too loudly.

I thought about going to whisper her deeper and to stay that way till I touched her but that didn’t work so well with the doorbell. I’d have to pay more attention to my surroundings in the future if this ever happened again. And then I laughed at what I’d said, as if this would ever happen again, I mean really, who did I think I was kidding. This was a one-shot, it had to be, there’s no way the Universe would be that awesome, not for me, sick old bastard hypnotist that I was. I laughed again softly as I started to scramble the eggs.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, standing there not 5 feet from me, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, looking just fucking delicious once more. I decided against throwing her on the counter top and eating her ass a second time but that guy in the back of my mind certainly wasn’t happy about the decision. He could have spent an entire day doing that for her or at least till she became so overly sensitive to the constant ministrations of my tongue that’d she either pass out or beg me screaming to stop because she couldn’t take any more orgasms.

I had to admit, so far she hadn’t done that, so that became my agenda for the day: we’d have a nice breakfast and talk, then I’d drop her into a deeper even more delicious trance, bathe her again thoroughly, and this time I’d get her on my bed, dry her off, rag doll her, then feast on her literally until she either passed out cold after multiple orgasms or she would beg me to stop due to that sensitivity. That guy was pleased and even said as much with the next thought.

“I am,” I said.

“Why?” she asked, mid-yawn.

“Because I’m a sick old hypnotist bastard that tranced a world class hottie, tongue fucked her rosebud right there on my kitchen table, and now I’m making her breakfast after which I intend to thoroughly devour her till she passes out or begs me to stop at the top of her lungs, that’s why.”

She looked at me, cocked her head to one side, then said: “Seriously?”

“As a heart attack, you utterly delicious thing you. How do you like your omelet, g—” and I caught myself and realized that wasn’t going to work so I corrected it fast: “reen peppers, cheese, onions, what would you like?” I was kinda proud of that segue and apparently she never noticed.

“Load it up, Professor.”

I eyeballed her with a raised eyebrow and cocked my head to one side, but for what she’d given me so far and was still going to give me soon enough I was fine with that little title we’d keep between us.

She came around and looked in the fridge, bending over on purpose I was inclined to say. She knew what she was doing and was comfortable doing it so I just stared as expected, thought about what I’d be doing to her in about an hour or so and then I refocused on the omelets.

She took out the OJ and some grapes and sat down facing me. Pouring the OJ from the decanter to her glass she brought them together to just make that soft glass on glass tinkling sound.

“So what’s on the menu for the morning?” she asked, popping a white grape into her mouth.

“You are, soon, tranced, helpless, unable to resist me once more, and I do seriously intend to devour you, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before,” I said, calmly and confidently as I slid the omelet from the pan to the plate and handed it to her.

She took a long inhale through her nostrils and said “Thanks, this smells absolutely delicious.”

“Yes, you do, Trish, and you absolutely are,” I had to toss back.

“You’re in a remarkably jovial mood today, did I do something?” she asked right before gobbling up a fork full of the omelet.

“Yes, you actually did. You made about a half dozen dreams of mine come true, and in the next—glancing at the clock: 6:51AM—roughly 9 hours I have left to adore you maybe another half dozen depending on how you respond to me. Does that answer your question?”

“I mean did I do something last night when you put me to bed, I remember feeling you kiss me on the cheek and it made me feel so... I don’t know, safe I suppose. Yes, that’s the perfect word: I knew, I really truly knew in that moment I was totally safe with you, that you wouldn’t hurt me, or not honor The Offer.”

“Prior to that moment, had I given you even one reason to not believe you could trust me?” I said as I flipped my own omelet once in the air.

“Impressive,” she said, “and no, you didn’t. Listen, I’m a girl, and—

“You don’t say?” I interjected, sarcasm being one of my greater skills.

“OK, so we agree I’m a girl, apparently a rather attractive girl but sometimes I don’t see it, other people tell me that all the time and when I look in the mirror I really don’t see an attractive person looking back at me.”

Self-esteem issues, self-confidence issues, all things that I had suspected but was putting on the back burner in my imagination as part of the things that I’d be working on with Trish from my side of The Offer. I stopped her and said “You’re one of the most attractive females I’ve ever seen in my life, let alone had the chance to meet in person, let alone the chance to bend over my kitchen table and eat her ass, so yeah, dammit you’re attractive, deal with it.”

“You have a strange fascination with my asshole, you know that, right? Is this some fetish of yours, you sick old bastard? Should I be worried?” she countered, giggling in-between the sentences and finally just laughing at herself for even saying any of it in the first place.

I laughed and said “Yes, I do have an ass eating fetish. Why? Because it’s something that someone out there long ago said ‘That’s nasty, don’t do that’ and that dogma kind of stuck around for a long long time. I did research years ago, and after some actual clinically done purely scientific research it was determined—and I can’t imagine the people they had participate in that one, geez—that if the anus is properly cleansed meaning you wash it like any other piece of skin on the surface of the body that there is nothing inherently dangerous or ‘nasty’ about it.”

She was nodding the entire time and based on her earlier use of the term rim job when she told me I’d probably given her the best one she’d ever had I actually felt damned proud of myself in that moment.

“It’s just an ultra sensitive tube of skin that leads back into the bowels, but as for the rosebud, the anus itself, OK the asshole there I said it again, it’s perfectly clean and fine to enjoy however you see fit with just a casual shower and soap and water. In fact, according to the research, after using soap and water on the anus during that research and then collecting samples—that must have been weird—they determined there were more active bacteria in the mouth than the rectum, go figure.”

I took a big bite of my omelet, grabbed the OJ and refilled my glass. As I looked to her to see if she wanted more she just had a look that said “Who the fuck is this guy?” from what I could determine.

She sat up straight: “You did... research, actual research into licking assholes, again, impressive.”

“It’s not just about licking ass, Trish, it’s about pleasure, I am 100% focused on using hypnosis towards the gainful pursuit of pleasure. Let’s try a quick experiment, shall we? Stand up for me, please,” I asked and she stood up.

“Please carefully get up on the table, I’ll help if you like or...” I said as I started to reach for her.

“No, I can do it, thanks,” and so she did. She was up on my kitchen table now and I was going to teach her about something related to the pursuit of pleasure while we were about to really trying to have breakfast. Weird, yes, did I care, no, because once again my focus became her and her pleasure.

“Scoot over to the edge, on all fours please, put your ass up for me, let your hips drop, that’s right, a perfect position for me to enjoy you once more. Pause.”

She froze in place, unable to move as the suggestion was designed. “You can speak and swallow if needed, and you can blink as required, but you are now unable to move a single muscle because I’m in control of you once more.”

A soft whimper was heard. “You’re not in trance, you are fully conscious and aware right now, your senses are all operating normally in terms of sensitivity. And so when I do this...”

And I slid my tongue into her rosebud deeply one time and held it there for about 5 seconds. Delicious as expected, a slight difference in taste because she’d been sleeping and her normal body processes would have generated some additional fluids that keep the anus lubricated—as far as I knew she had not gone to the bathroom during the night but it wasn’t important.

I slid my tongue out and then walked around to see her. “You can look at me and move your head if you desire to do so, now.”

She was already breathing that ragged pattern so prevalent when I excited her. “OK, OK, so, damn, you really do love that don’t you?”

“I love eating your ass, Trish, to be perfectly honest you are the first woman I’ve ever had the chance to do what I want with in this way. I haven’t been with porn-star levels of women in my life, and it seemed like every time I met one that I really wanted to please in that way, that deeper really raw intimate “Yes I’m going to lick your asshole” way it was always met with that puritanical bullshit wall of resistance and I gave up all my attempts. But The Offer had it by default even though I never directly said it, I just said from head to toe and everywhere in-between and that means your asshole, your rosebud, whatever you wish to refer to it as.“

“Rosebud works for me, actually,” she said, her breathing returning to some semblance of normal.

“Works for me too,” I said and then I leaned in and whispered: “I love licking your rosebud, Trish, I really truly do. You are more delicious than I thought possible, so much more delicious than anything I could have ever imagined, and I am so very grateful for your trust and your acceptance of The Offer. Over the next few hours I’m going to lick your rosebud and fuck it as deeply as I can with this tongue of mine over and over and over again because I want you to feel good, that’s all that matters to me. And now, since we just had the control aspect of the experiment, we need the modifier for comparison.”

She looked at me, eyes wide, wondering what I was going to do.

“Look into my eyes, Trish. That’s right, right... there. Pause. sleeping Trish, good morning, I could use your assistance again if you’re willing. In a few moments I’m going to once again slide my tongue into Trish’s delicious rosebud. I will do it five times in a row. The first time I do it I’d like you, sleeping Trish, to amplify the sensitivity of her rosebud 5 times more sensitive. The second time, 10, the third time, 20, the fourth time 50 times more sensitive, and finally the 5th time make it 100 times more sensitive. It’s a very simple thing for you to do, sleeping Trish, and I am very grateful. Please say I hear and obey, Sir, it will be done if you can do this for me, for waking Trish, and you too as you enjoy everything she experiences today.”

“I hear and obey, Sir, it will be done” was the soft whisper that came from waking Trish’s mouth, stunning her senseless once more.

“You can move your head, your mouth, tongue, you can speak and swallow, and you can blink now.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that, it is truly freaky, like I’m seeing and hearing myself answer you from outside myself.”

“Dissociation, a very common thing with hypnotic subjects. But anyway,” I stepped towards her ass—“Wait, please, just a moment” she asked.

“Do you need a break, I can—

“No, I want this, I want to know this experience, I’m just trying to imagine what such levels of sensitivity will do to me, that’s all.”

“Let’s find out,” I said and without any further delay I took up a position behind her and slid back in and held my tongue there. A lot of trembling going on as she fought it and I could hear her fighting it.

“Trish, you don’t have to fight this pleasure, I want you to feel it, that’s why this is happening. Please, allow yourself to learn that you’re more capable than you believe you are, you are so much more than what you’ve convinced yourself you are. Relax even in spite of you being paused for me and enjoy this. Ready for round two?”

“No, but I’ll—

I slid in and the trembling was far more pronounced. The only part of me touching her was my tongue and a small patch of my beard running up against the lower part of her labia.

“Oh, God... please...” and her head dropped as she breathed very very raggedly.

Pulling out I said “Let me know when you’re ready for round three, I will wait for you.”

About 30 seconds passed then she finally whimpered “go.”

Slid in, held it, felt her actually moving on the kitchen table the trembling was so powerful. Several gasps were noted then I heard her say “coming...” and she juiced herself so I pulled out as I watched the liquids streaming down the insides of her thighs once more.

“If this is too much, I’ll stop Trish, I don’t want to cause you a problem.”

She turned her head as far as she could and I caught just that one eye like I had last night, heard the low growl as she said “Eat my ass, you sick old bastard” and so I did. I slid in, grabbed the fronts of her thighs right at the joint with the hip and pulled her, very hard, back onto my tongue which stabbed me about 1/2 inch deeper and she screamed, literally screamed as she orgasmed once more instantly.

I held on for 30 seconds allowing her to ride it out until there was nothing but short gasps for breath

and honestly even with the pause suggestion I didn’t think she could take that 5th level of sensitivity. I stroked her back as I stepped to her side, and for a few moments I seriously considered that I’d just gone too damned far. But when I stood in front of her, saw the tears in her eyes streaming down her face, I wasn’t expecting what she cried out:

“please, more... please, i don’t know if i can take it but please, i have to know, please, Paul, do it... please”

That last time she said please she cocked her head sideways just so, and I realized she could indeed handle it. I softly said “OK...” then I stepped back behind her once more. I stared at her rosebud, noted it pulsing, throbbing, the muscles of her rectum trying to prepare themselves for another literal tongue lashing, now at 100 times the normal sensitivity. I was just about to taste her once more when that voice in the back of my mind made a suggestion and I accepted it instantly.

I got to about an inch away from Trish’s beautiful helpless rosebud and I simply blew my hot breath on it.

She screamed louder than the last time, so loud I was glad I knew my neighbor’s homes were just far enough away that she wouldn’t have attracted any attention from them even if they were outside. I glanced at the clock on the stove: 7:19AM.

I let her stay there, paused in that way, her head hanging down low, thinking I really should end it as I stepped back to that position in front of her. She lifted her head slowly, tears and drool mixing together on her chin, dripping into a small puddle on the tabletop.

“What... what... what did... you do... to me...” she barely got out.

I leaned into her right ear and barely blew my hot breath so she’d understand what I’d done.

She burst out laughing, quite hard, then it slowly changed from laughter to crying, not a bad thing actually but that was the signal that my little lesson was complete. I stepped to her side, said “Freedom” and in a moment’s time she wrapped herself to me, arms wrapped around my neck, and squeezed me so tight I could barely breathe but I knew she needed it so I stood there and didn’t say a fucking word.

She was having that really good kind of emotional release, something that not everyone gets the full opportunity to experience. I had come close once, under the tutelage of that Domme I’d learned from but there was just something that held me back and I was never able to define what it was. I witnessed other people she worked with get there, and it was something that could literally only be described as a cathartic moment in their lives.

I hoped someday I’d have such an experience, but for those precious moments I still had to spend with Trish I just held on for dear life as she cried on my shoulder for nearly 10 minutes. As she gently used less and less strength to squeeze me she snuggled in, adjusting herself and just relaxing, I felt it happening and again I just waited. After another 2-3 minutes she finally sniffled her nose with one hand while wiping a tear away with the other.

When she pulled back and was face to face with me, I saw her for who she was finally: a girl, with a heart and a soul, a wonderful mind, an expressive body, and a willingness to find out just what she was capable of. I said the only thing that came to mind:


She laughed a few times in-between the sobs, and I wiped away a few of my own tears in the process. “Breakfast, it’s getting cold but I can nuke it,” I said.

“No, I’m fine now, thank you, thank you...” and I started to say something when both her hands darted out at once, grabbing my face and cradling it gently: “NO! THANK YOU!” and she nodded on the “YOU” part and I said “You are very welcome. Can I help you down?” and she nodded very softly. I reached under her arms and gently lifted her and then let her to the floor. I had an urge so I went with it: I reached out myself, both hands, the same way she’d just done for me, taking her soft face gently in my hands. She looked up directly into my eyes as I said:

You are a precious gift to my world, thank you,” and I kissed her softly on the forehead. “Now eat, we’ve got things to do.“

We spent the next 30 minutes casually chatting about various things not related to hypnosis, or The Offer, or even me or her for that matter. I had glanced at the newspaper and found nothing of any real interest. No messages on my smartphone worth addressing; she got hers but nothing interesting so she put it back in her shorts. As she walked back into kitchen she seemed different, not really walking but just gliding across the floor. There was an absolute change in her, on several levels that guy in the back of mind was alerting me too but nothing specific enough to focus on.

“So what’s next, Professor?” she asked as she leaned onto the table beside me. Yes, I leaned back and got a look at that ass, that curve, those legs once again and I knew she’d call me out for it.

“You sick old bastard, is it ever enough?” she said as she play-punched me in the arm.

“No, and considering our time is dwindling and I just had an idea, let’s get this stuff cleaned up, I want you to do something for me.”

“Oh, really, will I be awake for this or..” she leaned in, smiling, cocking that head to one side again.

“Wide awake, and hopefully screaming your lungs out.”

Another startled look, but I did it on purpose so it’s nice to see that I could actually still surprise her. She leaned back and stood up, grabbed both breasts in her hands, and softly said “Really?”

“Yes, really, now get those plates...” I said as I shifted everything off the table to the sink. I had a lot of dishes to wash later but they could wait. Maybe I should have gotten a dishwasher after all, I wondered, but as a single guy that rarely ever had any company I really didn’t have that many dishes to begin with.

We placed all the dishes in the sink and I ran some hot water to soak them in with some dishwashing detergent. I looked over and saw Trish bent over at the fridge putting the cold items and condiments back, the shape of those legs causing my cock to stir into stiffness yet once again. I really had a fetish for strong toned legs, so yeah, I suppose I was a sick old bastard trancing a hottie if someone wanted to really look at it that way but I just didn’t fucking care anymore.


Frozen. Helpless. Mine.

I dried off my hands, only thinking of those legs for a few moments, then I went and knelt behind her. Yes I could have just dove in once more but that wasn’t what I wanted, I simply wanted to feel those legs in my hands right there where they were, exactly as they were, so I did.

I raked my fingernails very softly up the backs of them from the Achilles tendon all the way to the little crease at the top of the thigh where the glutes take over in the body’s muscular system. The light touch of my fingernails set off goosebumps for her, accompanied by the ragged breathing again that I really loved, and then a few whimpers as I got right there at that point where I flicked the nails to dig into the skin causing her glutes to shake softly.

She couldn’t speak, or even blink because I hadn’t told her she could, the pause trigger was pretty complete when I used it. I didn’t want her to speak at that moment, I didn’t want to her to even blink, I wanted her, for those moments, to know on every level, most especially the conscious one, that I was in control of her, all of her.

I raked my nails half-way up her lower legs, then I shifted my hands so my palms lay flat against the calves and I squeezed them softly, massaging them gently. More whimpers, more short gasping breaths, more everything because of what I was doing to her, for her, and with her. I slid my palms up very slowly over the bulk of the calves to the point where my thumbs fit right into the crease of skin at the back of her knees. I wrapped my hands around the leg and began drawing very slow circles with my thumbs on the backs of her legs right there at the back of the knees.

For some women, at least in my experience, it can be a highly erogenous zone and based on the sound she made, I believed Trish was one of those women.

A very loud guttural groan was heard that made my cock spring up a few times with the beats of my heart.

I switched my hand position to rake my fingernails hard into her flesh just above the back of her knees, intending to really dig in and slowly drew them up the backs of her soft incredibly awesome thighs. The trembling started as expected when I got to the half-way point; that is such an incredible thing to witness as those legs just shook, her skin flexing over top of the toned muscles underneath. I could practically feel the striations as the muscles and tendons shifted back and forth as the trembling just increased.

Yes, I did want to dive in, especially at that moment but I had to be patient just a bit longer so I kept digging in those nails up the backs of those thighs, and then I had an idea. Many years prior I had actually worked on a carnival for a summer in my youth—seriously—and I worked on what’s known as a “dark ride” meaning it’s an enclosed structure where people go inside and the idea is to scare the hell out of ’em without physically touching them. As workers on the ride we could scream, yell, do most anything but not physically touch them; that technically would be a crime, battery, and so it was never allowed.

After my first few days of working the ride I tried to find my own style, my own way of doing things and there were many. The aspect of a dark ride that makes it interesting is because of how Human eyes work: depending on the available light, our retinas will either become less sensitive because of brighter environments or more sensitive because of darker ones. The inside of the ride was as dark as we could make it: we had huge sheets of black plastic that would cover basically everything. Every component inside was painted matte black, and black duct tape was used to seal every possible entry point where light could get in.

During the daytime when the Sun was out it just wasn’t possible to absolutely keep everything dark, but we did a really good job of it for the most part. The reason for this is simple:

It takes time, typically 10-15 minutes for most people, for their eyes to adjust from a brightly lit environment to a dark one, meaning if you’re outside in sunlight, and you walked into a room that was dark, the moment you closed the door you’d be standing in the dark and you would not physically be capable of seeing anything at all. You’re not technically blind, but the retina requires time to adjust the sensitivity to bring in all the available light it can. After that 10-15 minutes you might actually be able to notice some very faint light-leakage from under the door, or something of that nature.

So, you can probably see—pun intended—where this is going, right? Exactly. After one of us was inside the ride, day or night, for roughly 10-20 minutes our vision would be hyper-sensitive because of the lack of available light, meaning we—the workers on the inside—would be able to see things that people coming into the ride from outside could not see. We could stand directly beside you and wave our hands right in front of your face and you wouldn’t know it was happening. It’s a very powerful thing knowing that you’re effectively invisible, a very powerful thing indeed.

I barked, yelled “BOO!” to people and just didn’t feel it was enough, there had to be something, something more... primal. Something that was so primal that anybody, whether it was a man or a woman, a tough bad ass biker or the sweetest school parent you’d ever meet—and those ladies, those are the most interesting ones of all, I give you my word on that—there just had to be something that would scare the literal piss out of other people.

I thought about it for a day and the next morning I woke up and I knew what to do from that moment on, and it still works to this day. I’ve used it in the past, on that carnival, to send a pregnant woman into labor—disclaimer: she was 3 days from her due date we later learned so I’m happy to say I brought that kid into existence just a little early. I can use this particular tool in my toolkit to literally drop a woman to her knees screaming, and it’s the good kind of screaming: the excited kind, not necessarily the orgasmic kind but that’s good too.

What is this mystical magical technique I discovered?

I snarl at them. Quite fucking loudly. And I mean really loud, something that they and by they I mean nobody ever expects, least of all from me being the sick old bastard Teddy Bear that I happen to be.

But I assure you: if there’s a time for me to ever be next to you, within range of one of your ears, and I can get close enough and snarl you will either end up on the floor screaming, or you’ll potentially wet yourself instantly—it’s happened many times—or you’ll start running away from me as fast as you can till the shock wears off.

“Trish, I’m going to do something to you in a few moments. You don’t know what it will be, but when it happens you’ll understand it instantly, and when it happens you’re going to have a very powerful orgasm. You won’t be able to resist it happening, the orgasm will not have any buildup at all, it will just hit you, instantly, the best orgasm you’ve had in a long long time, when I do what I’m about to do. If you understand me you can say yes Sir I understand but then be silent for me again.”

A few seconds passed as she caught her breath—my fingernails were still dug into the backs of her upper thighs and I wanted to time my hand shift just right.

“yes Sir I understand.”

I took in a deep breath as I stroked my fingernails deep into her skin then raked them up and flicked the fingers off her ass as hard as I could making the glutes shake, that glorious fat ass wonderful shake there for me to take a hold of and and I did. I grabbed both cheeks hard, with a hard slap as I literally just grabbed ass for dear life and I snarled so loud if someone was at my front door they would have heard it.

She came, of course, right there for me, because I wanted her to and she obeyed. The physical sensation of me taking her ass in my hands, literally manhandling her that hard, coupled with that snarl that assaulted her ears, plus the suggested powerful orgasm all coalesced in those precious moments as she rode it out for maybe 5 seconds before I felt her legs giving way. She collapsed back against me, safe and sound in my arms: “oh god oh god oh god oh god...”

That’s all she could do at that point so I said “Freedom” and her body just relaxed into me as I wrapped my arms around her, the whimpering and the short gasping breaths continued unabated for several minutes as I just held her there against me on my kitchen floor. The door to the fridge was still open and I figured it was time to get that closed so I spoke:

“Trish, I need you to stand up for me, I’ve got to close the fridge.”

“I don’t think I can stand, you sick old bastard, I really don’t think my legs will work right now,” she mumbled. She was probably right so I shifted so I could stand, holding her as I did so, haphazardly shaking her body in the process. She mumbled something else but I just wasn’t hearing it and once I finally got into an upright stance I figured I might as well do it.

“rag doll”

I really do love using that command and suggestion, and I absolutely loved the way that girl just switched off her body for me in that way. I truly loved the way she felt in my arms, utterly helpless, but knowing with every fiber of her being that she was totally safe with me.

“You can close those tired sleepy eyes now, Trish, you can speak to me if you need to, and swallow as required but the rest of your body will remain limp, loose, and relaxed, safe in my arms.”

“sick old bastard” she just kept repeating then she said “making me come so hard...” and the idea presented itself for the next phase of my time with Trish. I carried her to my bedroom, laid her softly and gently on that mattress, covered her then gave her a tiny kiss on the forehead. “Open your eyes and look into my eyes, Trish.”

Slowly but surely they opened and stared into mine.

“It’s time to sleep, girl, some deep restful sleep, deep natural sleep for me, for a little while. Yes I’m a sick old bastard, thank you for trusting me, now sleep, girl, sleep” and I tapped her on the forehead and then dragged that fingertip down the bridge of her nose slowly. Her eyes turned inward, focusing on the imaginary spot I was touching, following it down, down, down till her eyes closed softly. One quick deep breath and then she settled into the mattress as sleep took her for awhile.

I stood back, looked at that sleepy Angel in my bed once more, and I actually felt good about everything that had happened so far. Her calling me a sick old bastard in that way was a little bratty, and I had an idea on how to use that against her for that next phase of our remaining time together. I knew that roughly the last two hours, from about 2PM to the cutoff at 4PM, is when I’d be working with her and sleeping Trish specifically to address personal issues, and how to make actual lasting change in her life. The help she really wanted with her schooling and studies, and anything else that needed to be or could be improved, was what The Offer was all about for her; the pleasure side was all for me, really, even if she did truly end up having 50 or more orgasms because of my enjoying her.

The Offer was an important thing to me, seriously, and I took my side of the deal even more seriously since the girl that accepted it would more than likely require help as time passed. I would always be there, just a phone call away, if needed. I’d travel if necessary; it wasn’t an issue. Yes I had my practice, yes I had my clients, and I absolutely had responsibilities of my own but I always helped people if I could and if she accepted The Offer I would honor it, for life.

Trish helped me make a few dreams come true and would help me make a few more a reality soon—what price can really be put on such a thing, after all?

I glanced at the alarm clock—8:47AM—and went to the front door to get some fresh air. A nice day, bright and sunny, and for whatever reason I thought about Casey so I went back inside and got my smartphone and auto-dialed her as I went back to sit on my front porch. “Yo,” she answered, “so what devious hypno-tricks are you up to, boss?” she asked playfully.

I could have lied, could have sidestepped the issued entirely—I could have even tranced Casey over the phone and just had her forget she’d met Trish the previous afternoon if I was that sick of an old bastard but I didn’t.

“I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, Casey, honestly.”

“So, is she still there?”

“Yes, she is, she’s sleeping at the moment, I kinda sorta wore her out a short time ago.”

“GOOD JOB, BOSSMAN, it’s about time you got laid,” she yelled into the phone.

I laughed myself but as always I’m honest about that sort of thing: “It’s not like that, Casey, I’d have thought you knew me a little better. I’m a southern Gentleman, the ladies always come first, and in Trish’s case with me last night and today, she’s the only one that’s been having the orgasms.”

There, I said it, and if I couldn’t trust Casey then I couldn’t trust anyone in my life, and I trusted her very much.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” she asked, the tone in her voice going from crazy happy to very concerned with just 4 words. “Are you doing OK, is something wrong? Anything I can help with?”

I took in a deep breath and spoke:

“Casey, Trish accepted my offer, someday I’ll tell you about it, probably write that story I mentioned yesterday but I’ll change names obviously. Since yesterday at 4PM, she’s made so many of my dreams come true, and we’re not done yet. I’m not done with that young lady yet, I mean, and I will be professional when necessary, but for now, know this: right this moment, as I’m speaking to you on this damned phone, I am happier and more at peace than I’ve ever been in my entire life, and it’s because of that Angel sleeping peacefully in my bed.”

Several seconds of silence, and I looked at my phone twice to make sure the connection was still there.


“Yes, Casey?”

“I’m very happy for you,” and I could hear the tears in her voice, imagined seeing them on her face, wishing I could be there to brush them away and make her smile, so I said it knowing she would.

“I’m a sick old bastard, Casey, I tranced a perfect girl willing to give everything she is to me and I’ve enjoyed her literally from her toes to her forehead so far, and I’m not done yet so if you’ll excuse me, our time together is precious. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, and I’ll bring the donuts.”

“You got it, boss, coffee’s on me. Play safe, with her, and her mind, OK?”

“Always. Bye.”

No other texts on my phone, no emails, nothing. I really didn’t have much of a life at all. I had a few friends locally, nothing to write home about I suppose. I didn’t go out much, kept to myself. I did a lot of reading, mostly non-fiction more than anything else. I liked to be able to go to bed every night telling myself that I had learned at least one new thing every day and if I couldn’t say it honestly then I’d get out of bed and go learn something new, seriously.

I thought about Trish, thought about her laying there in my bed, that young beautiful amazingly attractive seriously hot delicious piece of ass, and I do mean that literally. Her flesh itself was delicious to me, I don’t know if every woman is or could be but Trish was. My tongue on her skin just found itself loving it and I wanted more. I knew I’d have more but the next little phase would be different for her.

I went back inside, then into my office, got into my hypnotist’s chair, and stared at the slowly blinking red LED on the ceiling and told myself “OK, teach me, show me how to make her lose her mind all on her own, I want her to be able to fuck her own brains out using me as the fixation point...” and then just let go with a sigh.

My eyes popped open and I looked back over my shoulder at the clock on the wall: 9:35AM.

I sat up, put my feet flat on the floor, and at the moment I knew what to do. I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge in my office, made my way back to the bedroom, and woke Trish flat out, nothing weird, just “Wake up, Trish, now.“

Her own eyes popped open and she sat up quickly. A moment later the dizziness caught her and she steadied herself; I knew better than to use that wake up now command but time was wasting and she’d be fine. I handed her a bottle of water and told her to drink and she did, almost the entire thing in one swig.

“Thank you, I needed that. What’s next, Professor? How are we on time?” she asked, looking around and I nodded at the alarm clock on her other side. “A little more than 6 hours...” she whispered as she turned back to look at me.

“I want you to go take a long hot relaxing shower—that’s not a suggestion in terms of anything funky, mind you. The water won’t make you cum, you won’t go into trance there, there’s nothing covert happening, I want you to take a nice hot relaxing shower and—yes I’m going to say this one last time—get yourself squeaky clean for me because I want to enjoy you one more time before our deal comes to a close. I’m going to make us a nice lunch, say some turkey and bacon wraps with, Caesar or Ranch?”

“Ranch,” she added.

“Excellent, and maybe some onion rings with sweet tea, does that sound acceptable?” I asked.

“More than acceptable, it sounds absolutely delicious.”

She slung the comforter to the side, threw her legs and feet off the bed, and stretched a long reach to the ceiling pushing out her breasts as she arched her back and I couldn’t resist as she derailed my plans for lunch.


Frozen, again. Helpless, again. Mine, for just a little while longer.

I walked to her, standing in front knowing she couldn’t even move her eyes to follow mine. “You can move your eyes and look at me, Trish, you can swallow if necessary but that’s it, no talking. One aspect of your body that I have ignored so far are your beautiful breasts, and for the next few minutes that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I will feel them, squeeze them, kiss them, lick them, and suck on them very softly and you won’t be able to do anything to stop me.”

Her eyes had darted up to me the moment I set them free, and the fluttering was in full effect. Her mouth was slightly open and I wanted it that way, not closed. She did swallow twice in those few moments as the tension began to build, exactly what I wanted.

I got on my knees in front of her, put my palms on her knees and forcefully spread her legs wide. A serious gasp of breath told me she was well aware of who was in control and then the ragged short breaths began. I leaned in towards her right breast and simply blew my hot breath on it, that’s it, nothing more.

The nipple literally stood at attention for me, it was quite amazing to see it respond that way that fast, from being there to full attention, fully erect if you will. I leaned over and quickly breathed my hot breath on the left nipple and it too obeyed me, in a way of speaking.

“Good girls, these nipples, very good girls. They want me to play with them, Trish, they want me to lick them, to suck them, to tweak and twist and knead and stroke and roll them beneath my fingers, don’t you, girls?”

Both nipples standing proud, waiting.

“Yes, they want that very much, and so do you, Trish, so now as I tickle your ribs you can enjoy this raw natural pleasure even though you are completely helpless to my touch and you are completely unable to move a single muscle consciously.”

I stroked the sides of her ribs gently with a deft touch of my fingernails and leaned in to flick my tongue on the right nipple once, then the left, back and forth about 10 times. “This is you, Trish, this is you feeling good, I have not increased your sensitivity in any manner, not any suggestions towards that. What you’re feeling right now flick is you flick simply enjoying flick the way that your body flick can feel when it’s willing flick to learn new things flick.

Then I sucked her right nipple and was rewarded by a very deep gasp. I held the suction for about 10 seconds then pulled my head back and her breast deformed as it pulled along with my lips. When I finally got to the point where I knew it would release, I sucked harder and pulled back as the nipple and breast snapped back and I enjoyed watching it do so. I glanced to her eyes and was rewarded with a tear. Then I did the same thing to her left nipple and when I looked up she was tearing up pretty severely so I did it again to the right, then the left, and then twice more for each.

“So good, isn’t it, Trish? So good to let go completely, to give yourself to another for pleasure, it’s just so damned good. Open your eyes, look at me, Trish, now.”

She opened them, filled with tears. “You can speak now, tell me you’re OK.”

“I’m OK,” she managed to get out. “so good, i can’t... can’t...”

“But you can, Trish, and you will. Feel this, now.”

I raked my fingernails of both hands from her hips straight up her sides in those most insanely sensitive spots that most people, and the women in my limited experience, will strongly react to consciously but on the unconscious level it’s automatic. As my nails gently made contact with her skin, the fact that I had told her what I was going to do set the expectation in motion as her breathing stopped: she had sucked in the breath and was struggling to hold it as a way of fighting the sensations I was just about to cause.

I raked my nails just a bit harder, and when I got to the sides of her ribs she couldn’t hold it any longer and laughed, hard, so I raked harder as I got to her armpits, then the underside of her arms, then up the triceps where I finally flicked the nails deep into the skin then pulled back.

Laughing uncontrollably, staring into my eyes, tears streaming down both cheeks of her face, unable to resist, I did what any sick old bastard that trances hotties would do: I did it again.

Then again, and several more times as her laughter turned to shrieks, then whimpers, then finally she just stared and made barely a sound at all as I stopped. I’d been staring into her eyes the whole time, never altering my gaze, and I realized what happened: she’d used my eyes as a fixation point and she tranced herself to escape the sensations I’d used to overload her conscious awareness. I didn’t intend for it to happen, but she made it happen even so.

“Freedom” I said, as her arms dropped loosely. Her head cocked just so to one side, her glazed eyes still focused on mine but I know she was long past the point of actually seeing me consciously. Such a special girl, a truly amazing talent.

“Did you enjoy that, girl?” I said, knowing she was already there.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl, and now that you’ve gone into trance for me, I need your help, sleeping Trish. I want to do something for waking Trish but it will require your assistance. Will you help me bring a part of her out to play that I think, but I’m not absolutely sure, is in there and wants to come out for a bit?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Here’s what I want to do...”

I spent the next 15 minutes or so—glancing at the clock: 10:17AM—instructing her unconscious mind what I wanted. When I emerged her she of course would not remember that breast and tickle play since it started when she was conscious and each conscious period was forgotten with the next trance; all of it would be returned to her after our chat at 4PM.

She would take the shower I told her to take, and again I was not offering her any suggestions for pleasure, anything at all, it would be entirely of her own volition if she chose to pleasure herself there under that hot water all soaped up but I had a feeling she’d be doing some exploration. I would make lunch as I said and we’d have a great meal. When the lunch was over would be the time where what I’d just worked out with her unconscious would kick in and boy would I enjoy it, probably more than she would.

I raised her arms up to a point where they were before I had issued the pause command—if she emerged from trance in the same position, consciously it would close the trance-loop and if I distracted her at that moment the memory would vanish from her conscious ability to recall it.

“In a moment I’ll count from 1 to 5, at the count of 5 and not before the count of 5 you’ll awaken. The suggestions you’ve been given will be there, in the unconscious, safely protected and hidden from your conscious waking self. You’ll take the shower I mentioned earlier, I’ll make lunch. A long hot relaxing shower, you’re in no hurry at all, enjoy yourself and make yourself squeaky clean so I can enjoy you one last time after we have lunch. 1... 2... 3... 4... and 5”

As her eyes fluttered I quickly said “So, Ranch dressing, right?”

A slow blink, then the stretch continued almost exactly where it was when I said pause, and she blinked then looked at me: “Yes, Ranch, thanks.”

Perfect, and I knew the amnesia would settle in. “Now, get that delicious ass into that shower, I’ll be in the kitchen, take as long as you desire.”

She reached out fast and I felt like she was going to kiss me but luckily she shifted, just a kiss on the forehead which made me a little dizzy—I still had that trigger to drop upon a tap and if she knew it she’d probably make use of it. Since she used it the night before in trance, her conscious mind didn’t know of its existence. Even so her hands felt great on the sides of my face.

“You sick old bastard, who are you, really?” she said as she smiled. Such a beauty, really.

She stood up, right there in my face, and in doing so she put her pussy within a few inches, I could have just—

“Do me a favor, please?” she asked.

“Anything, well, you know what I mean,” I said.

She spun on a heel, turned around, reached back and spread herself wide open for my viewing pleasure. There, again, her rosebud, and yes I had a fetish for it, and I was about to—

“Please, one soft kiss for my rosebud, Sir.”

I couldn’t say no. I pursed my lips together, leaned just a bit forward, planted my lips directly on her rosebud, and sucked gently making that smacking noise as I pulled back. She laughed: “That tickled, wow, I never thought I’d be able to say my asshole is ticklish.”

Spinning back around to face me she got within like 2 inches, her brilliant eyes boring a hole into mine: “What have you done to me, you sick old bastard?”

“Do I really need to get into the sick twisted nasty details of me servicing your body with my hands and fingers and my mouth and my tongue again?” and I heavily stressed the word “again” on purpose.

“Yes, I know, 4PM, we don’t have much time left, Paul, I wish...”

“Stop, don’t go there, please. This is how it is, this is the deal, this is The Offer, and that’s that,” I said matter-of-factly. She had to know, even if it required me repeating it every time she was conscious—which it practically was—that I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t cross that line I set for myself.

I simply wasn’t that guy no matter much I wanted to be that guy.

She turned back again, turned that luscious beautiful soft fleshy fat ass of hers to me, reached behind my head, grabbed a fistful of my hair, then pulled my left cheek against her ass and held me there. “Promise me one thing, please?” she pleaded.

“Of course, given our deal.”

“Please promise me that after lunch, you’ll eat my ass again, deeply, as deeply as you can, I really love that and after what you made me feel this morning in the kitchen, something tells me the next time your tongue kisses my rosebud I’m just going to lose my mind.”

And there it was: her unconscious, giving me the signal I wanted, sleeping Trish telling me everything would work out just fine and that after lunch waking Trish was going to make that last dream of mine with her a reality. I smiled, nuzzled into the soft flesh of her ass cheek and said: “You’re damned fucking right I will, now get going.”

Then I took a soft bite of that cheek sparking her into action as she laughed and bounced to the bathroom. As she skipped away I took just a moment to center myself, trying to bring it all together in my mind that yes, this really was happening. That it really did happen. And now I was left wondering if it was some fantasy of mine and whether or not I was actually laying in my hypnotist’s chair staring at that damned red LED as it dropped me like it’s dropped so many others.

I looked down at my sweatpants, yet another stain on the front as my erection slowly subsided. Every time I was with Trish I was hard, and at almost 51 years old I suppose that’s a good thing that most 51 year old men would love to be able to say. I tried to imagine myself at some Hypnosis Addicts Anonymous meeting:

“Hi, my name is Paul, and I am a hypno-addict.”

“Hi, Paul,” the members would say.

“Yesterday I hypnotized a 22 year old super-hottie, perfect from head to toe, with a pussy that tasted like vanilla ice cream and a rosebud that tasted like black cherries. I gave her probably 50 orgasms in under 24 hours by sucking her toes, massaging her legs, grabbing her ass hard and snarling at her loudly and also tongue-fucking her asshole multiple times. I sucked on her nipples, tickled her to an orgasm or two, and put her to sleep multiple times while I programmed her to be a better person forever. I’m a sick old bastard, yes, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat and I know for an absolute fact she’d let me.”

Aside from the dead silence of those people at the meeting and the jaws firmly on the floor at my confession, I know a lot of them would be asking me for tips and tricks after we finished and were having coffee and donuts. That much I can fucking guarantee you, absolutely.

Probably something like that I’m sure, but I had to make lunch. I heard the shower starting so I scooted to the kitchen and got busy. I grabbed all the items from the fridge, put them out on the countertop, made the wraps with some Romaine lettuce and tomatoes. I decided to let her put the Ranch dressing on as she desired, got the onion rings in the deep fryer going, set it for the required time, and then looked at the clock on the stove again: 10:51AM.

Everything was done in about 10 minutes when I finally heard what I’d been hoping to hear: a moan. I made my way back to my bedroom as the moans continued, growing stronger in their volume. I got to the door of my room which gave me a view directly into the bathroom but of course the shower door was slid closed so I walked to the bathroom door itself. More moans, groans, grunts, and those wonderful high pitched yelps.

I wanted to watch her pleasure herself so I did. I walked in, stood against the hamper and carefully slid the door open just a few inches. There she stood, her face in the corner, forehead leaning into it, as her right arm reached around herself with not one but two fingers deeply stroking her rosebud, her left hand underneath with either two or three fingers fucking herself deeply in her pussy. It was a beautiful thing to see so I just stood there, with my 50+ year old cock straining against my sweat pants, desperately wanting me to stroke it, but I knew that would end badly and with me spurting off all over the walls.

I’d already been there in the shower once with her, that was still hidden from her conscious mind. I didn’t expect to hear her say “Oh god, please Paul, please, right there, yes, right there, lick it, oh god, please lick it YEEEESSSSSSSS...” I could visibly see her knees giving way and she had to use her left hand to steady herself as the orgasm or even the orgasms hit her, but her right hand just keep on stroking her rosebud in and out, in and out, non-stop.

I knew in that moment I could have stripped, stepped into the shower, and slid my painfully stiff cock deep into her ass and owned her even more so than I had already. I knew that, and that was a very scary thing to me in that moment.

That moment was the first time in my life I felt that way about a woman, about using her to utterly satisfy myself whether she wanted it or not, and just as I was about to slide the door closed Trish saw me.

I froze, not sure what to do really. I cocked my own head to the side trying to convey the idea that I was sorry for watching her, like I really was a sick old bastard just looking to get off, wanting to walk away when she said:

“No, I want you to watch me.”

I had not suggested this to her unconscious, that wasn’t of my doing, but she asked and I decided to stay so I nodded. As I did she reached back and slid the door open just a little bit further giving me a better view. Of course at that moment she could plainly see the erection in my pants, the stain on the front where my precum just kept leaking. She smiled, then looked back into my eyes:

“Watch me fuck myself, because I was thinking about you, eating my ass again. I want that, I want you to eat my ass, my pussy, I want you to fucking devour me completely, all of this,” and she stood there holding her arms out to her sides, displaying herself for my pleasure and hers. “I want to feel your tongue everywhere, your lips, your hands and your delicate fingers stroking, licking, fingering, squeezing, fucking, sucking, I want it all from you, and I know our deal and I will honor it, but everything else I can have, I’m going to have it after lunch. Do you understand?”

Now THAT I understood was sleeping Trish at work because THAT was precisely what my last dream with Trish would be about: her dominating me, to the best of her own ability, using every inch of herself to do it.

“I understand, thank you, now finish up, lunch is served.”


I waited.

She came to the door of the shower, she leaned out bringing her face close to my cock, and I was about to pull away but she turned her head to stare into me, and I took it to mean don’t move so I didn’t. She turned back towards my cock, got within maybe one inch of it bouncing there, literally, under the sweatpants as my heartbeat caused it to pulse and throb.

She took in a deep breath through her nose then stood up. She looked at me once more, smiled, and said “I give you my word, someday I’m going to have that, and you, for lunch.”

She stepped back in, slid the door closed, and I simply had no other choice but to grab my cock as hard as I could in that moment to control the rather explosive ejaculation I knew was well underway. I felt stupid trying to walk as that orgasm slammed into me, completely unexpected even considering the situation I’d put myself in. I couldn’t stroke myself with the sweatpants and I didn’t want to try and use my other hand to remove them because I’d have to let go and that would...

I just sorta stopped thinking for 5 god damned seconds about what was happening and I let go of my cock, the orgasm hit, I fired off several large loads of semen in my sweatpants and I didn’t fucking care anymore. I was standing there basically fucking the air for everything it was worth, trying desperately to make those moments last and I knew it was wrong to do it but I said it anyway: “Trish...”

I heard the shower come back on as I got some semblance of sanity to return. I looked down, huge stain on the front of the sweatpants as one would expect, but I felt good. I honestly felt great, even in spite of the situation. I stepped over to the chest-of-drawers, retrieved a clean set of sweatpants, then made a path to the laundry room where I stared slack-jawed at my own cock, still hard after all that, at my age, just because of a girl I willingly chose not to actually fuck with it.

“Sick old bastard, indeed,” I reminded myself as I stripped the dirty sweatpants off, placing them in with the clothes that had been soaking since the night before and finally started the cycle. As I started to put the new sweatpants on, that cock of mine just wasn’t going down so for the first time in a while I decided to just have at myself. I took my cock and stroked myself to yet another incredible orgasm in under a minute. I kept the visual of Trish in the shower, of her fingers in her rosebud, fingers in her pussy, and I just blasted off another few spurts in record time.

Not bad for a 50+ year sick old bastard, I thought.

I grabbed a dry towel and cleaned myself as best I could. The new sweatpants were black so hopefully that would be a better masking of just more leakage compared to the gray ones now washing. After that second load—and I had to laugh at my own pun considering I was in my laundry room—I finally had some better control over my reaction and noted my cock was more cooperative as I tucked it inside the sweatpants.

I opened the laundry room door and Trish looked up from the seat at the kitchen table. She looked down, smiled, and did the “Did I do that?” phrase in a high pitched squeaky voice. I got the reference immediately—the nerd character Steve Urkel from the TV comedy series “Family Matters.”

“Not directly, no, but after so many orgasms for yourself, even I had to admit to being a lowly Human male and what you said back there in the shower just popped my cork once and for all. I’m sorry.”

She stood up and came to me, hugging me, not something I expected and I didn’t really want her to do that because it could incite her to get emotional over me. Considering what I’d been doing with her, what I’d been doing with her mind, obviously the emotional aspects were going to encroach and so I just hugged her back. Her soft clean skin, her smell mixed with the body wash I used for myself, her hair there just under my nostrils, dammit I got hard again and felt my cock poking her just above her groin.

She felt me tense up and just hugged me tighter, even grinding herself into me.

“Trish, please don’t. I need you to stop, now.”

“OK, I understand, I wish it wasn’t this way but I understand, no more teasing,” she said as she pulled away and returned to her seat. So much for the black color hiding the stains.

I sat down and took a bite of my wrap, watching her taking a bite of hers. One of us had to talk or the uncomfortable silence would be an issue.

“I can’t, Trish, I wish I could actually just crack open my skull, reach inside and find the reason, and offer it to you like I was offering my heart or something, but I can’t honestly tell you why I do things the way I do. When I first got the idea for The Offer about 10 years ago, it happened because I met a girl, not that unlike you actually, and she came to me for help with schooling, studying, I mean you know why you came to see me. You’re a student, just like she was, and she needed help pretty desperately.”

Trish nodded as I laid out what I could about myself and my reasoning for The Offer, something I had told myself I wouldn’t do but for what she’d given me so far she deserved it.

“I helped her, for a while, and she improved rather dramatically but she got involved with a guy that was abusive to her, not physically abusive mind you, that wasn’t it. He was psychologically abusive, kept telling her she was worthless, would never amount to anything, that he shouldn’t waste his time with her—even with his dick in her mouth sometimes he’d tell her that from what she revealed to me.”

“Damn, what a prick,” she said, nibbling on an onion ring.

“She allowed herself to believe his words, and it nearly ruined her. She developed a strong dislike of sex, to any degree at all, and prior to meeting that guy she loved it. I don’t mean she was a simple slut fucking everything that moved, no, I mean she physically enjoyed the acts of sex, a wide variety of them. She was the first girl that ever actually discussed, well, assholes with me as objects of sexual satisfaction.”

“I don’t know why so many people don’t get that, like you said earlier it’s just another piece of skin, when it’s clean and washed properly it is perfectly delicious, for most people. I’ve never had any issues discussing it openly but you’re right, the moment someone says something like ‘I’d love to lick her ass’ or ‘I’d love to tongue-fuck his asshole and make him scream’ then yes, most people are just going to lose their already-barely-rational minds over it.” She finished and took a big bite of her wrap.

“Yeah, well, yeah,” I said, surprised not only that she’d said that but that I found myself surprised at hearing it.

“What, did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“No, no, I just... honestly I didn’t think...” I tried to answer but for whatever reason it just wasn’t there.

“You think I’ve never done that myself to someone else? Really? I learned a long time ago about the rosebud, OK asshole, starfish, brown-eye, anus, rectum, whatever you want to call it and it being a serious thing for pleasure.”

“George Carlin would be proud,” I muttered.

“I LOVE HIM, he passed away a few years ago, right?” she blurted out.

“Yes, I did get to see him perform a few times over the years, a simply amazing wordsmith. Always funny, was a big loss for the comedy world,” I added.

“Look,” she started, “I have no problems with giving someone I like a rim job, so if you ever—

“Stop, you said no more teasing, so please don’t go there,” I had to say as I placed both my hands flat on the table top.

“I didn’t mean, I only meant... I’m sorry.”

“Trish, it’s fine, really, see this is why people don’t like talking about eating ass, it just gets pretty deep into the... dare I say it, shit.”

She nearly spit out the onion ring at my joke and I knew the tension was now broken as I laughed too.

We finished lunch and then went to sit on the couch for a bit. Glancing at the mantle clock—11:47AM—I started to speak but she stopped me: “So, this girl, what happened?”

Trish took a position like previously, laying those legs on my lap and I wasn’t going to even think about it anymore and I did what I wanted to do which was stroke them and massage her feet. I suddenly felt comfortable just doing that with her instead of thinking about it directly and whether it was right or not.

It was that feeling I wanted, that feeling of just being comfortable with her there with me. It wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t erotic, it was just comfortable.

“I helped her to the best of my ability, for as long as I could and it had nothing to do with sessions, etc, that was when the idea for The Offer germinated really. She had so many issues and when I helped her I should have known that by helping her she’d become attracted to me. I mean, like you, she let me into her mind, a very powerful thing, and the attachment just happens—I can’t prevent it and a lot of the time I don’t want to. Even in spite of that I know that doing what I’ve done, with you and The Offer, there’s going to be an emotional downside to this.”

She nodded as I kneaded her calves softly, but her eyes were wide open; she wasn’t allowing herself to let go and drift which meant a lot, she was focused on me and attentive.

“Trish, in the shower, before you realized I was there I heard you call my name, and I have to admit it scared the hell out of me,” I said as plainly as I could.

“Why would you be scared? I wasn’t thinking of you fucking me with that cock...” and as she said cock she purposely tapped the back of her calf directly on my cock.

“Hey now, come on, don’t.” But secretly I wanted her to keep doing it, I honestly did, it just wasn’t part of our deal.

“Yes I know, Professor, and I really do understand, at least I think I do. So the girl, what finally happen—HEY”

I had taken the big toe of her right foot and given it another toe-job to get back at her for the cock-slap with her leg. I sucked it pretty hard, flicked it with my tongue quickly, watching her reactions as she closed her eyes and opened her mouth softly, a short gasp as I sucked harder. I held that ankle with my left hand and then I raked the underside of her thigh across the back of the knee to the ankle with the fingernails again and she yelped hard.

“That’s why I do this, Trish, that right there. That reaction, those sounds, that yelp, the look on your face right now. That’s what I want, that’s all I want, hence, The Offer.”

“So, you like getting girls off, why not just say that and be done with it?” she asked as I stroked her legs back and forth with the palm of my hand.

“I know that you won’t able to answer this properly since you’re now tainted by the fact that a) you’re nude here on my couch as I’m massaging your legs and b) I’ve tranced you about a dozen times so far and you don’t remember most any of it consciously and c) I’ve enjoyed you several times and I will again shortly. Yesterday when you saw me at Fazoli’s, and I mean the instant you saw me, as you took off those sunglasses, can you recall the thought or thoughts that popped into your head?”

She looked straight up at the ceiling, then up and to the right of her own eye sockets meaning visual recall, then looked at me and said “I honestly thought you were yelling at me for something, some old crazy man, and then after like 1 second I realized what you said to me and then I thought differently about you because you made a joke even in spite of me nearly crippling you only moments prior.”

“Well that’s a positive thing, right?” I asked.

She sat up and punched me in the arm and laughed then collapsed back on the couch. “Yes, it’s a positive thing, and after we spoke those few moments and went inside I figured you weren’t what that first glance told me you were. And now look at us, me on your couch, about to fuck your face till you can’t breathe, I mean, what’s become of us.”

That was the second signal from sleeping Trish. I glanced at the clock again—12:11PM—and then went into my role as the helpless sick old bastard about to be utterly dominated by the total hottie.

“What... what did you just say?” playing stupid and shocked.

“I said I’m going to fuck your face till you can’t breathe, you sick old bastard.”

Oh good lord this was going to be so awesome I kept thinking. She was slipping into her dominant role so well, so fast, and I just said the hell with it.

“What makes you think that I’m go—

“As if there’s any other thought in that sick old brain of yours, even now it’s all you can think of. Look at that cock, stiff as a board, isn’t it?”

I looked down for the effect, already knowing I was quite hard but as she started that dominant kick it just pulsed harder.

“Yeah, you know it, look at this hot wet pussy of mine,” she said as she spread both her legs really wide right there on my couch. “Look at this delicious pink slit of mine, imagine your tongue sliding up and down this slit, you want this don’t you, you sick old bastard. You hypnotized me and made me do all this, and you won’t even fuck this pussy, or this tight asshole of mine, look at this” she said as she brought her legs together and then pulled them back with her hands, lifting her hips and exposing her rosebud pretty visibly.

Of course I was looking at it, it was beautiful, and I wanted to lick it desperately even without this new side of her expressing itself.

“Fucking sick old bastard, just look at you, won’t even jerk off for me will you? No, you won’t, and you know you won’t, so I’ll just have to make you eat my ass.”

She sat up, climbed on my lap straddling me, and started grinding into my cock slicking up the sweatpants with her juices and while I knew sleeping Trish would prevent her from going too far I just went with it.

“You feel that, don’t you, feel that slick tight hot fucking pussy right there, on your cock, back and forth, riding it, so close to being inside of my cunt, but no, you and your stupid fucking offer to trance me and just eat me again and again, and I can’t even remember you doing it, how fucking unfair is that, Sir? I mean really, why should I call you Sir ever again? You won’t fuck me, will you?”


“WHY NOT?!?!” she screamed.

“Because I’m not that guy.”


“Someone you’ve never met, and be grateful you haven’t because he wouldn’t be nearly as nice to you as I’ve been.”

“Well fuck you, you sick old bastard, if he won’t come to play then I’ll just have to use you.”

She climbed up into a standing position, spun around, straddling me on both sides with her feet, then squatted to a point where that ass once again became my entire world.


And so I did, burying my face once again into her from behind, licking her clit to rosebud and back softly, which was done on purpose to incense her even more. She was so close, so very close to making that dream of mine a reality, so close...

There, it happened.

She reached back with her right hand and grabbed a rather significant portion of hair on the back of my head, tightly, and pulled me deeper into her ass and I mean she was seriously pulling me and grinding back into my face: she was, in essence, fucking my face with her pussy and rosebud and I kid you not it was the happiest moment of my entire life.

I don’t really have to try and explain it, everybody has their “thing” that sets them off. For me, finding a girl like Trish was an infinitely improbable thing. Finding a girl like her and then being able to trance her, even more improbable. Finding a girl like her, trancing her, then being able to talk to her unconscious and ask it for help to make her make me eat her ass exactly as I was doing in that moment? Fucking priceless, MasterCard ad campaign be damned.

It’s what I wanted, it was a really simple thing, and Trish was making the dream a reality so for those moments I just kinda let myself trance a little and accepted everything she said to me as an actual command. I allowed her to control, dictate, and yes dominate me for her pleasure because pleasing her was, after all, what The Offer was all about.

“Lick my asshole, Paul, now, that’s right, slip it in there, good boy, delicious tight anus isn’t it?” she said as she was pulling my head up and down even as I was trying to nod yes.

“That’s right, you like that, don’t you? You like being told what to do, I knew that about you the moment I saw you at Fazoli’s, just an old man with a hard-on that would give everything he owns to eat my ass. You’re not first old man that’s had me, you won’t be the last, so lick, boy, eat, now suck.”

Wasn’t expecting that but sure, why not: I started sucking on her, tasting her juices even more deeply as my tongue continued fucking her rosebud. I’ll say it again: she was utterly delicious and I know there’s those folks out there that wouldn’t do it for anyone in a million years for a million bucks. Their loss; my belief has always been if you love someone then you love all of them, head to toe, it’s just that simple.

I enjoyed doing this for her, I really enjoyed having her controlling me in this way, and I absolutely fucking cherished her grabbing me and making me do it in that manner. I kept licking her, stabbing her rosebud with my tongue, for who knows how long I was there doing that, feeling wonderful as I allowed my body to just deeply relax into the couch as she controlled my head entirely. I let my neck go limp and relaxed too so she was controlling my head literally with how she was keeping me there stuck to her. She shifted a bit and pushed down on my head so I shifted and started licking and sucking on her slit when it happened: I hit her clit with one swipe of my tongue gently and she lost it.

“GOD DAMMIT...” and then nothing but grunts and groans as both hands reached back and grabbed my hair and she gave it everything she had pulling me into her. At that point I literally could not breathe: her rosebud was right there pressing against my nose preventing airflow through my nostrils and and my mouth was utterly surrounded by pussy, absolutely engulfed in it, but I held on as long as I could.

She was quite strong, actually, and after maybe 20 seconds of her thighs trembling there against my shoulders she finally released me enough to gasp for air myself. “SON OF A BITCH, GEEZUS...” she screamed.

Then she reached back and grabbed me with both hands again and I found myself buried deep once more. She really ground her hips into me that second time, and she was juicing like mad, my face and beard were utterly drenched in her, drops of her running down the insides of her thighs, but I realized I’d told her I didn’t care about the couch then I let that thought go and pulled back slightly so I could adjust my mouth wide.

And then I put a lip-lock on her entire labia and sucked.

I mean really hard, I sucked her senseless in those few moments and she cried, and I caught it when it happened. It wasn’t a sound she’d made so far, something was different now and I released the suction on her slowly. I reached up with my hands to grab her at the knees, keeping her pressed into me as I moved my mouth up very slowly, allowing my tongue to take one last delicious swipe of her rosebud, knowing it might be my last one during our time together. I stabbed deep once, heard her cry again, and then I took control.

“Rag doll.”

She collapsed on top of me, just utterly collapsed as that trigger is designed to work. She was sobbing softly, and so I shifted her body to bring her into my lap, lifting her soft warm utterly limp flesh off me entirely in the process. I brought her down gently against me, allowing her head to lay against my shoulder facing out. Her arms lay loosely stretched out at my sides, her legs just loosely on each side of my thighs.

I held on to her like that and whispered “Freedom” and felt her begin to stir as she regained that conscious control. “Trish, relax, just hold on, you’re safe with me.”

She really started crying then, serious full body emotional quaking but it wasn’t the same as what happened earlier in the kitchen.

When I said “safe with me” she shifted, sitting up just a tiny bit on my thighs, then her arms came up wrapping around my neck very tightly as she put her head back down on my shoulder. Without another word spoken from either of us, she passed out and I felt it happen. But she was safe, and she knew it, and she let go.

I glanced at that damned clock one more time—12:37PM—and figured that was pretty much enough for the day.

My time with her was short but she’d made my dreams come true, all of them that really mattered to me, in a short span of time. I hoped I had truly pleased this wonderful young woman without causing any damage to her emotional or psychological states. That’s what the last 2 hours would determine and so I just sat there holding her. That hypnotic breathing she had, right there in my ear, even closer than last night was just so nice to... so nice to... so...


“Paul... please, wake up.”

I opened my eyes to find Trish there, only inches away, on my lap, there on my couch, there in my home.

“Finally, geez. We’re running out of time,” she said as she cocked her head to the side directing my eyes to that clock—1:33PM.

“I know, I know. You made my dreams come true, Trish, I honestly don’t know what else to do right now. I have plans between 2 and 4 to do real work with you, in trance, the really good stuff that will help make your life better, but at this moment I just can’t say I have a clue.”

“I didn’t hurt you earlier, did I? I mean I kinda felt that dissociation thing again when I was grabbing your head and just twisting it around, I hope I didn’t pull a muscle or anything in your neck,” she said, smiling but still having that inquisitive look on her stunningly sexy and quite vulnerable face.

“No, I’m fine, really, you did exactly what I always wanted such a girl to do: just take control, use me for her pleasure, that’s what I asked sleeping Trish to manage for me. You gave me the idea earlier when you went just a little bratty after the fridge thing.”

“Fridge thing?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, you’ll learn after 4, I think you’ll be happy with what happened, if not then you’ll be telling me for sure.”

For some reason I had an idea and I figured with the limited time left she’d of course be willing.

“I have an idea. Do you like vanilla ice cream with some chocolate syrup on it?” I asked.

“The classics never get old, and yes,” she responded.

“Good, because that’s what you’re going to have while I adore you, one last time, with vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup over over that delicious pussy and rosebud, right now.”

I sat up still holding her in my arms as she laughed, then stood grabbing her more tightly. I almost ran to the kitchen, setting her on the table and then spinning around to get the ice cream from the fridge behind me. I sat that on the table and glanced at the clock—1:41PM—and opened a cabinet over the stove with the chocolate syrup then reached for the drawer with the utensils and...

“Fuck it...” I said out loud as I turned to look at her smiling.

I opened the 2 gallon bucket of vanilla ice cream and just dug my hand into it and scooped out a large chunk, held it up in front of her and said “I’m pretty sure this is really cold...” and before she could even say anything I smeared it between her breasts, then across her abs, down down down to her triangle, and yes she reacted by screaming “HOLY SHIT, THAT’S COLD!!!” and laughing the whole time.

I got most of her torso covered and I just didn’t care about the mess anymore. I grabbed the bottle of Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup, unscrewed the silly little nipple thing on the top, and just doused her in it between the breasts and down her stomach, watching it mix with the slick melting ice cream and making me even more hungry for her.

I grabbed a chair and scooted up to the edge of the table, took both her legs behind the knees so I could really spread her open, looked right at her and asked: “Trish, one last time, may I adore you?”


And with that I dug in, licking her as softly as I could to start, circling her labia, flicking at the hood covering her clit, tasting her juices as they mixed with the vanilla and the chocolate, and staring into her eyes the entire time. I felt like I wanted her to know I was enjoying this as much as she was, like my tongue itself had suddenly developed the same kind of sensations that her clit might as I flicked it.

I never lost eye contact with her and I realized as I kept devouring her that she’d drop into trance at some point, and that was just fine with me. I stared, she stared, I licked, she whimpered, I sucked, she whimpered louder. After a few minutes of that it was time for grand finale. I knew those juices and that ice cream and the chocolate syrup had been running down and over her rosebud eventually pooling there on table.

I put the backs of her calves on my shoulders and stood up which caused her body to pull closer to the edge of the table. Then I folded her, literally in half, and practically got her knees to a point close to her ears, still maintaining that eye contact. She hadn’t said a word in about a full minute so I was confident she was already deep so my final dream was:

“Trish, in a moment I’m going to adore you one last time. I’m going to give your rosebud several kisses as well as tasting you as deeply as I can. With each kiss I give your rosebud, you’re going to have an orgasm. Brief, quick, very short orgasms, and when I slip my tongue inside you those orgasms will last for as long as my tongue is inside you. Kissing and licking, and deep fucking your rosebud, with orgasms each time. Say yes you understand.”

“yes i understand”

“Wake up, Trish.”

Her eyes blinked hard, then she realized the position she now found herself in: “I...”

And that was the last intelligible word she would utter for awhile. I dove in, adoring her rosebud with a single soft kiss, triggering the first orgasm. Her stomach muscles buckled causing her to lift herself slightly off the table and that forced my lips deeper onto her rosebud just as I tried to pull away, so I held that kiss longer and then decided why not. I pierced my tightly puckered lips with my own tongue which then pierced her rosebud triggering that second longer orgasm and she screamed.

“I scream for ice cream,” floated through my consciousness. I had to wonder if the person that said it first would have ever dared do what I was doing.

Constantly thrashing there on the table, one of her arms finally knocked over the chocolate syrup and I didn’t fucking care as I stabbed her rosebud again, and again. I finally just decided to give her everything I had so I basically turned my tongue into a mini-rosebud-jackhammer. In out in out in out maybe 4 times a second was about as fast as I could go.

I loved it, I absolutely fucking loved it, I loved her for letting me do it. I’d have paid her money to let me do it if I ever thought it would have been possible. I would have given her anything to do it for her in that way. In that moment I realized The Offer, as I first thought of it, had set me free in a way to be able to do what I was doing at that moment.

Trish, whether she knew it or not, had broken my shell and I would be forever grateful for her being the one. I’d help her as long as she needed my help, in any way that she needed it, without any real practical limits of any kind. That was the deal, and I would honor it.

I looked at her as she found the strength to lift her head and look into my eyes one last time as she said “please...”

Before she could even finish the word, as she locked onto my eyes, I pulled mouth and lips back widely and did everything I could to get my tongue into her as deeply as possible, that last time. Her eyes went so wide, wider than I’d seen so far, her mouth opened into that most perfect “O” shape, but she wasn’t making any sounds at all, not even breathing really, just a full body tension. No trembling at all, nothing, then her eyes closed slowly, she lowered her head backwards—thankfully she didn’t just drop ’cause that table top was pretty hard.

And as I expected, she passed out once again. “Dammit, you sick old bastard, you’re gonna have to learn to pace these young girls, they don’t have the stamina a 50+ year old has...” I mused to myself and then I laughed. I laughed loudly, and hard. I stared down one last time at that delicious young woman, thinking I could just have one more taste but when I glanced at the clock it was 2:01PM and that was that.

I left her there for a few minutes, cleaning up just a bit, then I whispered in her ear to have sleeping Trish accompany me to the shower. I bathed her myself—yes, wearing my sweatpants and shirt—making her squeaky clean even though I knew I’d never taste her again. I led her to the bed, dried her off, then lay her back and sent her off to dreamland for a while and then went to clean up the oh-so-worth it mess we’d made in the kitchen which took about 15 minutes. I had given myself plenty of time to work with her so I could have just kept enjoying her but again she had a life to get back to and I did too.

I walked back into my bedroom at 2:41PM, went to her, whispered that I’d like sleeping Trish to get up and get dressed, which she did easily, and then I led her back to my office where I had her lay down in my hypnotist’s chair. I deepened her for a while, spent time verifying with sleeping Trish that she, meaning her unconscious, was totally OK with absolutely everything that had occurred during out time together. sleeping Trish told me I was good to go, there were no issues at all, and things would be fine.

I spent the rest of that time providing the beneficial suggestions I felt would help waking Trish the most, having all of them accepted readily by her unconscious. I asked questions, was given answers, I listened closely, provided answers to questions based on my long history of being a hypnotherapist and helping others.

I learned about the issues of trust with her roommate and discovered the source of it: bad suggestions and poorly worded ones that the roomie had attempted to implant during some sessions. They didn’t appear to be particularly bad, just very poorly constructed and they had a negative effect on Trish personally because of how she interpreted her own world-view. I helped there by allowing those memories to be reframed and while I felt that Trish would not be working with that roomie again in the future, at least Trish herself wouldn’t be so worried about their relationship because of those odd occurrences.

I helped her understand that her studying would have great benefits in her lifetime—I didn’t ever want her to think things were too difficult for her and then have her do what I had done which was walk away from a potentially rewarding law career and take up hypnosis or something similar. I knew The Offer would affect her, it already had, but it wasn’t meant to be a negative thing so I had to frame the positives so they’d be accepted as such.

The clock said 3:43PM so I spent those last few precious minutes making sure that sleeping Trish would be OK with how waking Trish might think of me as time passed. I know I’d made that strong emotional connection in the kitchen earlier in the morning—sleeping Trish told me that was the first time waking Trish had ever experienced an orgasm from being serviced that way with her rosebud. I laughed but didn’t mean to and when sleeping Trish asked why I told her: I didn’t meant to make waking Trish orgasm quite that hard and even sleeping Trish giggled over it. Then I said if I had known I wouldn’t have asked for the sensitivity to be quite so high when sleeping Trish told me that wasn’t the issue.

She lay there, eyes closed, that deepest part of Trish chatting with me and revealing that waking Trish had never felt better in her life than when she stared at me with tears from both eyes begging me because she had to know if she was capable of experiencing something that powerful, and I understood perfectly.

I thanked sleeping Trish for helping me with everything and then I asked her to just drift and float peacefully and she did, sinking a bit further into my hypnotist’s chair. I sat back, reached over and took a bottle of water from my fridge, cracked it open and chugged it in one go. The clock said 3:57PM as I placed the bottle in the trash can.

Such a wonderful girl, and yes, delicious. She’d made those dreams come true, but I still had others of course. I’m a relatively simple guy, I keep to myself, I help people when I can wherever I can, and I don’t ask for much. I thought about what I’d offered Trish 24 hours earlier, thought about every single moment I’d spent talking with her, touching her, tasting her, feeling her, fingering her, squeezing her, and smelling her and thought that for all that I was willing to do for her from that time only a few minutes away to whenever she’d no longer need my help in any respects, I really didn’t actually ask too much from those 24 hours.

What kind of price could be put on that kind of help, if someone offered it to you? Would you accept The Offer, if a person presented you with it?

I knew I would, which is why I presented it to Trish.


“Trish, I’d like you to wake up for me, at your own pace, take your time, stretch, breathe, and open your eyes when you’re ready.”

Slight movement in the facial muscles, some twitching of the fingers, the feet shifted, legs pulling up just a bit, then her mouth opened, a deep breath in, and then finally her eyes opened.

“Does that thing just blink like that forever?” she asked.

“Pretty much, yep. How are you feeling, Trish?” I asked.

She turned her head to me and smiled: “I’m still me, still here, apparently back on your hypnotist’s couch. I take it our time together was... interesting?”

At that moment, the moment Trish woke up, she had no conscious awareness of anything that had happened from the moment her eyes closed about 24 hours earlier when I induced that first trance to that moment when she opened her eyes only seconds before.

“You’ll find out in a few minutes when you get it all back in one torrent of it. I need you to understand what’s going to happen because it’ll be a doozy, I assure you.”

I reached down and got a bottle of water and tossed it to her. She chugged it in one go like I did, crushed the bottle, tossed it into the trash: “Yay, two points” she said.

“Trish, thank you, for everything, really. I know at this moment that means nothing but in a few minutes it’ll mean everything, so again, when you’re ready to get all of it say go, understand?”

“Yes, Professor.”

She got up, looking around my office. “It’s very weird since I have no recall of whatever you’re telling me might have happened. Is it really 24 hours later? It seems like you just had me staring at that red LED just moments ago.”

“Check your phone, look at the time and date, go to some website you trust and check the time and date, check whatever social media you might use, I suppose. Or just say the word “go” but please before you say it you’ll need to be sitting down, that much I know for sure.”

She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen: “Well, the battery is down to 17% and it was 100% when I came in, I had been charging in my car. That’s one.”

She was pacing back and forth in front of me so I just waited.

“CNN shows 24 hours later, so does my Facebook page, so that’s two.”

More pacing as her situation sank in.

“And apparently my power bill is now late because I forgot to make the payment last night since I never made it home, great. OK, Professor, three for three.”

I said “I’ll pay the late fees, it’s the least I can do once you understand what you’ve done for me.”

“Nah, not a big deal, they have a credit in their system for some bullshit customer service issue anyway so it’ll balance out.”

She sat down, and I prepped for it.

“So I just say that word and, what, you say something and wham, I get a massive brain flood of experience and memories?”

“Pretty much, yes, so being seated will be better. You can come sit on my lap if you’d like, I won’t bite.”

“You sick old bastard, always looking for some action,” and she winked. “Go.”


As she began to feel the memories coming back, I focused intently on her face. Her shoulders tensed, her hands clenched squeezing that memory foam my hypnotist’s chair was made of tightly. Her legs came together instantly and so hard they literally made a smacking noise like a soft hand-clap. Her face, of course, contorted in emotions shifting so fast I couldn’t even keep up with in spite of my micro-expression training. Over and over again her eyes went wide, then her mouth, then her eyes, her mouth, hands raised to her face, covering her mouth, so many emotions, so fast, so strange to watch it happen but it was sort of hot in a way too.

I could only imagine the thoughts she was trying to have in real-time as they collided with the thoughts and feelings and emotions from the past 24 hours as all those trances and waking sessions hit her non-stop.

“The shower... The Magic Palm... the kitchen table... the couch... the kitchen table, again... your bed... you slept with me, you really actually slept with me...”

“Yes, I did, Trish, is that so weird?” I asked.

“Men... men don’t want to snuggle, not in my experience, they’ll always find some way to fuck me, all of them... oh god... the ice cream... your tongue... what did you do to me?”

“You accepted my offer, Trish, you gave yourself to me for 24 hours, for my pleasure and I hope for yours too. I’ll honor my side of it and help you, for as long as you’d like, as long as you’ll need it, until you know you’re able to cope with life on your terms.”

She bounded from my hypnotist’s chair straight into me practically tackling me in the process—if my chair hadn’t been against the wall we’d have both toppled over in it. And then the tears came, something I knew would happen, along with the sobbing, and yes she squeezed me around the neck so hard I swear I heard a crack but I was just fine with it. I wrapped my arms around her and just hung on for her dear life.

“Oh god, what have you done to me, Paul?” she whispered softly in my ear.

“What I wanted to do, Trish, because you allowed me to do it, are we clear on that?” I said rather sternly.

She pulled back to face me, arms still around my neck.

“Yes, Professor, crystal clear. So what now?”

“Now, you go on with your life, and I go on with mine. I’ll give you my card, it’ll have my personal number, the office, email, etc, and I’ll write my private cell number on it. If you ever need anything—and understand me when I say anything at all, ever—call me and I’ll help you if it’s within my power, or even my bank account, to do it. Understand?”

“Yes... Sir,” and she smiled, making me smile, then she leaned in and tapped her forehead on mine making me dizzy because of that suggestion I’d given myself.

“You are a most incredible man, and know that if you ever—

“I know what you’re going to—”

“Stop fucking interrupting me, you sick old bastard,” she barked.

“Yes, Miss-Trish” I said playfully, purposely using her name as a play on the word “Mistress.” She cocked an eyebrow at that and her head too. Then she looked down to the left telling me she’d just stored that thought for later use, stuck her tongue into one side of her mouth, then looked into my eyes again.

“Thank you, Paul, seriously. I’m happy I could make some dreams come true for you. But there’s something you forgot.”

She had my attention so I had to ask: “OK, I’m game, what did I forget?”

She turned to look at the wall with the clock on it and so did I: 4:17PM

She turned back to me as I looked into her eyes. “It’s 4:17PM,” she said.

“And?” I asked.

“Our contract, our deal, is expired, now I can do whatever I want with you.”

I started to say “But wait...” and I was just too late.

Her right hand darted out and tapped me on the forehead, right there in that damned spot I’d created my own damned self for her to make use of and I hadn’t removed it. I focused on the finger and fought it with everything I had as she dropped me.

“Sleepy baby, sleep for me, Paul, sleep for me, now.“

I felt myself following that finger down the bridge of my nose and I really truly fought it. When she pulled the finger off I felt like a professional wrestler that had been beat senseless and now was getting that second wind as I started to come back up.

She leaned in and whispered: “Sleepy baby, so helpless now, you can’t resist, sleep for me, Paul, sleep, sleep, sleeeeeep... now

My eyes opened, staring at the ceiling. No red LED so, I turned my head to the left, saw my alarm clock: 7:17PM.

“No. Fucking. Way.” I said out loud. I sat up on the bed, hearing nothing but my own breathing. Tried to recall anything and all that I got was the sensation of that finger dragging down my nose and that was the end of it. I laughed, hard, and swung my legs out of bed. Everything appeared to be in order so I went to the living room, everything as I remembered it.

Into the kitchen I noticed a Panda Express bag, still somewhat warm from what I could tell and smelling delicious. There was an envelope next to it with my name on it so I flipped it over and saw “DON’T READ THIS WHILE YOU’RE STANDING—TAKE THE FOOD, GO SIT ON THE COUCH, AND HAVE FUN, THANK YOU—T”

I took the bag of food to the living room and set it on the couch as I flopped back on the sofa. I ran my finger through the envelope and removed the single page:


Thank you for the most amazing experience of my life. It took about 30 minutes for all the memories to settle in so after I dropped you in your office I asked you to drift and float for a bit. You look so peaceful when you’re deeply hypnotized, I hope someday you’ll let me do that for you again.

The beauty of what you did with me was incredible, and I learned a lot from you actually on top of what I already knew about hypnosis. After I dropped you and those memories settled in, because I have an almost total recall thing—you never asked me about that but I have a damned near photographic memory—all those trances you did with me I remember everything. I remember everything you did to get me into trance, get me out, deepen it, everything. That gave me some skills that I wasn’t expecting to have which is why I dropped you the way I did.

You simply forgot you had that trigger that I used last night when I put you to sleep, that was actually quite awesome so thank you. You’re probably understanding that yes you’re not able to remember what happened between me dropping you and whenever you’re reading this. I left your home at about 7PM so, figure it from that point. You’re under a post-hypnotic suggestion for amnesia right now but that’ll be removed in a few moments.

I honored our deal, and I know that you really do want to make love with me and I’m honored that you didn’t compromise your own principles in spite of that desire. When I had the opportunity to do something for you after our deal expired, I took a chance. Please don’t be angry with me—know that I care about you deeply and always will, but I simply wasn’t going to leave without enjoying you to some degree. I didn’t make love with you, if that’s what you’re worried about, nor did I kiss you either, except on the forehead just before I left as you did to me many times.

I will say this: for a sick old bastard, your cock is seriously delicious. ;)

Love, always...



When you get to this point, I want you to allow yourself to get comfortable on the couch, really comfortable, let your head fall back into the cushions and then just stare at the ceiling for me. No, no red LED, sorry, but when you’re comfortable I want you to count out loud from 1 to 10 at your own pace, relaxing more and more with each number. When you count 10 you’ll remember everything I did for you, so I hope you enjoy it a second time when the memories return.

Thank you, forever.”

“Well shit on me...” was about all I could muster. I situated myself, put the letter to the side, then let my head drop back and stared straight up and counted out loud as instructed.

1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8... 9... and I felt myself sinking into the cushions pretty deep at that moment when I closed my eyes and said


She had spent several minutes there as she dropped me in my office, stroking my face softly, whispering those magical words that just sent me spiraling down into trance for her. That “Sleepy baby” thing is a trigger I’ve had for decades, created by one of my first girlfriends that loved hypnosis like I did. She used it to simply put me to sleep each night and I will forever be grateful to her for that one. If it’s whispered in my ear by a Dominant woman that I trust, I’m pretty much gone and happy to be at the mercy of her whims whatever they might be.

But I fought the trigger when Trish fired it, hence the dragging of the finger down the bridge of my nose, done several times, each time just dropping me past my ability to fight back. Coupling that with variations of “Sleepy baby” and I was history. There’s just no way I can or even would want to fight that kind of induction, it’s a core-thing for me really.

She deepened me using my own words that I’d used with her in her original trance there in my hypnotist’s chair. Her recall apparently was astounding, and she learned from me so fast that she used most of the things I said to her with each trance she experienced so it was like she got a crash course in basic hypnosis in a few hours time.

She led me to my bedroom, having each step send me deeper. She had me disrobe even as she did so herself, with the two items I had been wearing sending me deeper. She had me get in the shower where she bathed me, sending me deeper with her touch, scrubbing me clean head to toe, almost buckling my knees several times as she stroked my cock with that soapy mix making everything so amazingly sensitive.

She fondled my balls as she caressed them softly, and yes she ended up using her own middle finger to stimulate my own rosebud, something I’d never experienced but now had that memory. It wasn’t what I was expecting, and I had to admit that yes, with her there, whispering me to relax, to allow that part of me to relax and open for her, her finger gradually slid into me without any effort at all.

For about 5 minutes, she stood behind me as the hot water hit me in the chest draining down my body. She had wrapped her hands around me, her left hand grasping my cock tightly, her right hand palming me while the middle finger of her right hand slid into my rosebud. She wasn’t tall enough to whisper directly into my ear in that position but I heard every word she said even over the shower:

“Deeper, Paul, deeper, feeling so good, allowing me to please you this way makes me very happy, relax, enjoy, feel me stroking you, it’s OK to feel good, it’s OK to come whenever you want. I want you to come, so wet, so slippery, feeling so wonderful, you’re going to surrender to me very soon, just let it happen, let go...”

Thinking back on it her hands and that finger felt unbelievably good and I think I could have tolerated it for even longer but the moment she said “you’re going to surrender to me...” I lost it and had an orgasm that nearly knocked me out. As I recalled the experience she covered fast by telling me I could stand up comfortably and still experience that pleasure but not once for one second did she stop stroking and fingering me.

I had a second orgasm a few moments later, as amazing as that sounds. Never in my life had I felt anything like that and I didn’t know I was capable of it. Apparently at least in that moment I performed well because I heard her telling me I was a very good boy. She told me to stand under the water to rinse myself off, then she led me to the bedroom and she toweled me head to toe. I felt myself get pushed back on the bed feeling a towel under me. She told me to adjust myself and relax even more deeply at the foot of the bed so I did what she told me to because I was a good boy.

I felt a pillow under my head and then she whispered some things in my ear: that I wouldn’t be able to move, but I’d feel everything perfectly normally, that the pleasure she was going to give me was something I’d earned, that I was worthy of it, and she was very happy to do it for me.

At that moment, as I was recalling all those moments there on the couch, I came to the conscious realization that she intended to use my own thing—The Magic Palm—on me. And she had, two hours prior.

She coaxed me gently with her voice, squeezing the back of my neck perfectly with her soft warm palm. She stroked my upper chest slowly and delicately, tracing slow circles around my nipples which I never considered to be erotic or sensitive in any way but under her fingers, deeply hypnotized for her by her, I was stunned to realize they did perk up for her. She stroked down across my stomach, raking her fingernails down one thigh and up the other, still softly squeezing my neck as I enjoyed so much.

That back of the neck thing, really, it’s a weak spot for me when that’s done correctly. It’s a primal thing for most people but they don’t allow themselves the experience of pleasure that can be achieved if one simply stops fighting it. At that point, that deeply hypnotized, with those whispers slipping into my mind, and that soft warm hand squeezing me, I was literally putty in Trish’s hands and I couldn’t have resisted her even if that guy wanted to.

She fondled my balls so softly, with just the fingernails at first which really drew out the sensitivity, then the pads of her fingers, then finally palming them and pressing them inwards which felt really good. By that time her suggestions of being so relaxed I couldn’t move had taken solid effect and I just lay there, helplessly being stimulated as she kept whispering and stroking me.

Finally she slid her hand up just a bit and took my cock firmly in her hand and started stroking it with the squeezing of the back of my neck. “Deeper and deeper, feeling so good, allowing me to play with you for a few minutes, thank you for everything, Paul, now let me give you some pleasure, relax, enjoy...”

First time in my life I’d ever felt helpless in that manner, it was a scary prospect to me before that moment, but I trusted Trish. I had no reason to suspect anything and knowing she had full knowledge of everything I’d done to her, for her, and with her I—the me that was laying on that bed at that time—let go utterly to her in a way I’d never thought I could.

A few more minutes of that in-sync stroking and I felt my orgasm approach, fast. She felt it too when my thighs trembled. She slid her hand out from behind my neck, climbed on top of me entirely and dropped herself right on my helplessly relaxed body.

Her right hand still stroking my cock, her left hand suddenly there palming my balls even as I felt a finger tapping my rosebud. “Relax, Paul, relax and let me in, now.“

I obeyed.

Her finger slid into me, her palm pushed up softly on my balls, and her mouth took in my cock all the way to the top of her hand which was squeezing the base of my cock hard.

It was the single best moment of my life, and I fed her every last drop of my cream. She just didn’t stop stimulating me for some period of time I still can’t quite measure. I lay there and when I say helpless I mean it: that orgasm simply wiped me out, and recalling it there on that couch almost made me orgasm again but it didn’t. I surrendered everything I was to that girl in that moment and I was still weak even with that recall.

Finally she let me go, and as soon as her body lifted off mine I whimpered. I couldn’t help it, I just felt that connection break in that moment and I knew it was over. I cried tears there on that couch as I recalled that memory.

She got a washcloth from the bathroom and wiped me softly, under the balls, my cock, my stomach area, and then she asked me to get up and put the sweatpants and shirt back on which my tired sleepy deeply satisfied body did. She then directed me to lay on the bed as I normally do when I sleep at night and I did.

And finally, she kissed me on the forehead, leaned in and whispered those magical words in my ear once more: “Sleepy baby, sleep for me, deeply asleep, Paul, sleep for me, please, thank you for everything, sleep for me, now.“

And I did.

I opened my eyes on that couch, full of tears, wiping them away as I sat up and grabbed a napkin from the Panda Express bag, then another, then another, and finally one more.

I enjoyed the meal, and when I finally got to the fortune cookie I figured I would take it literally even in spite of knowing it’s just some computer generated stuff more than anything else. On some occasions in my life they were remarkably spot-on for the given time, so:

“Soon an opportunity will knock on your door. Consider your options carefully, then decide.”

Not quite what I was hoping for but it wasn’t that bad. If it had been in a meal the day before I’d have attached a lot more significance to it, but sometimes those fortunes take a while, and I’m a patient man.

I put the trash away, did my usual routine, checked everything, left that light on in the living room again, then headed to bed. When I got into bed I was nude, and I dropped myself really deep because I wanted to let Trish take me again, and again, and swallow everything I could give her even as I dreamed of what she’d done for me in those 24 hours plus that little unexpected bonus.

As I started to drop, as my body relaxed, I clearly heard her whispering “Sleepy baby, sleep for me...” and once more I surrendered to her even though she was nowhere to be found.

A few days later I was eating dinner in my kitchen, alone again, sitting there thinking about the things I’d done with Trish right there, on the table, beside the table, there in front of the fridge. I thought about those moments when the sexual aspects of experiencing her weren’t the draw and instead focused on those moments when she was with me—just those moments when she was a girl, and I was a boy more or less, a vastly more experienced boy, and smiled.

I heard a knock at my door, looked at my watch—7:17PM—and headed that way. I opened the door and found myself staring at the delivery girl from a few days ago. She looked really... sad was the only word that came to mind.

“Hi,” she said.

“Good evening, I didn’t catch your name the other day, it is...?”

“Taylor, my name is Taylor.”

I didn’t have to ask another question, she’d reveal things in her own time, and in that moment I remembered the fortune that had no meaning when I read it but now suddenly made sense. I stepped back, opened the door fully, and Taylor walked into my life.

We spent the night talking, just sitting there in my kitchen, talking. I made her dinner, we had vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup for dessert, and then I put Taylor to sleep in my bed and snuggled into her making sure she knew she was completely safe with me.

I proposed The Offer to Taylor the following day and she accepted. She was the second girl to take me up on my offer, and so did 4 others over the next two years. They all keep in touch with me regularly, and I’ve helped them all become the best ladies they can be, and I will because I honor The Offer, always.

* * *

I helped Trish as I said I would over the next 2 years after that 24 hours we spent together, mostly just advice more than anything else. I never actually saw her again face-to-face during those times, it was phone calls, a video chat or two online, and some texting back and forth. There was one time she had some financial issues and I was only too eager to help, just a few grand to cover some medical issues. I believe, no I knew for a fact that when she finally got her degree and passed the Bar and got a job with a law firm she’d try to pay me back with her first check and I just wouldn’t accept it.

I didn’t think she would ever truly understand what she did for me, I didn’t think any of those ladies ever would. That’s fine because I knew that aspect of things when I came up with the idea to begin with.

Casey tapped on my office door and opened it. “This just came from FedEx, boss.”

She tossed it my way which seemed strange since she usually opened all the business correspondence. I looked at the label and it said “To be opened only by Paul—T”

T meaning Trish, I remembered that from the letter she left me that last night I saw her. I tore the mailer open and out dropped a picture and another envelope with my name on it. Nothing on the back this time, so I tore it open.

Trish explained the pic—her in her graduation outfit holding up her degree—and told me she’d graduated Summa Cum Laude, 2nd in her class. She thanked me for all the help and said that she’d finally settled on the field of contract litigation and had been hired by a law firm in Manhattan a month prior and was loving it in that crazy city. I’d visited it just once but couldn’t imagine myself actually living there, the stress would have to be crazy insane for most people. But then I realized the hypnotherapists there were probably crazy expensive too.

I buzzed Casey in and told her I had to go out of town for 2 days and I needed the appointments rescheduled. “Something wrong, boss?” she asked since this was a highly unusual thing for me and I’d never done anything like it before.

“No, Casey, everything is absolutely perfect, thanks. I know you’ve been wanting to visit that new hotel over in D.C., here,” and I handed her the business American Express card for my practice. “Whatever you want, room service, porn, hookers, blow, you want it, get it, no limit. Seriously, enjoy yourself, lady, that’s an order.”

She stood tall and straight and even gave me a salute as she barked “SIR, YES SIR!!!” and laughed her way out the door.

I sat back as I looked around my office again like I had done a few years ago in those moments before Trish arrived. I looked up, that damned red LED still there, still slowly flashing. I allowed myself to drift for a few minutes remembering her voice that last night, calling me her sleepy baby, feeling myself drop for her, with her, remembering how good it felt to let myself go as she milked me there on my bed, an experience that I longed for once more.

I took in a nice deep breath, let it out in a sigh, and then I dialed the number Trish had put in the letter right after she made me an offer I simply wasn’t going to refuse.


* * *