“There’s No Such Thing As Hypnosis”
II.
Smirking, Kara Pendleton studied the man slumped in the chair across the table from her. Thomas Wissner, disbeliever in hypnosis, was deep in trance.
Of course, she’d known perfectly well he would succumb. After all, as she’d mentioned to him earlier, it wasn’t the first time they’d met. What she hadn’t told him, and what he would never remember unless she someday decided to allow it, was just how well they were acquainted.
Although they had indeed met last year, just as she’d told him, that hadn’t been the first time either. Four years ago, she had happened to see a notice advertising his anti-hypnosis lectures. It had listed his schedule and given the location where he’d be speaking. She had attended his last scheduled talk, and afterward, just as she’d done this evening, she had introduced herself. Then she had invited him to dinner. Once she’d gotten him to herself in the restaurant, she’d hypnotized him, using a candle flame as a focus the way she had done tonight. After planting a few preliminary suggestions, she had awakened him, telling him to forget he’d ever been put under.
They had gone back to her place afterward, and spent a wild night together. Kara had plenty of experience in using hypnotized men for her personal pleasure. In between rounds of riding her hypnotized subject to orgasm, she had deepened her control over him and implanted further commands. It had been during that first session that she’d told him that whenever he heard her use his first name, he would become relaxed and suggestible even while not hypnotized. While he was actually under, that trigger would further deepen his trance.
She chuckled softly. Poor man! If he hadn’t invited her to dinner tonight, she’d have invited him again. All she’d have needed to do was say his name, and he couldn’t possibly have said no.
The morning after their first night together, she’d leaned over his nude form amid the tangled sheets of her bed and carefully brought him back to normal awareness, planting one more directive before waking him completely. When his eyes opened, all he recalled of the night before was their lovemaking. They’d dressed and had breakfast together in her apartment, after which Dr. Wissner had left with a smile on his face.
As soon as he’d returned to his hotel room, Kara’s the second part of Kara’s final command had taken hold. Wissner had completely forgotten ever meeting her.
The two of them had met three times since then as the lecturer passed through Kara Pendleton’s home city on his speaking circuit. She knew his schedule, and knew when he would be in town. Each time, Kara had “introduced” herself after his final lecture; each time, they had gone out to dinner, and she had put him under, used him for sex and strengthened her hypnotic hold on him, reinforcing her earlier instructions and adding new ones. By now, if she’d wanted, she could have had him hand over to her every penny he owned and then show up for a speaking engagement naked.
She wouldn’t do any such thing, of course. Not to a fellow professional, however misguided. At least—she smiled—not unless she were paid a great deal of money for the job by one of her “special” clients. And how likely was that? It wasn’t as though dear Thomas posed a threat to someone powerful and wealthy enough to meet the prices she charged for such services.
Besides, he was more fun this way. It amused her to listen to him solemnly assure his audiences that hypnosis wasn’t real, and to know he genuinely believed it.
But enough reminiscing. It was time to move on to the next phase of the evening.
Speaking in a gentle voice, Kara guided the helplessly entranced Thomas Wissner back toward consciousness.
Wissner blinked and shook his head slightly. How embarrassing—he seemed almost to have dozed off at the table. But his dinner date didn’t seem offended. She smiled at him, a mischievous glint visible in her eyes even in the dim light.
Kara summoned their waiter and requested the bill. In a moment, the server presented the receipt to Wissner, who paid with a credit card.
With that out of the way, the lecturer turned to his beautiful blonde companion and said, “Thank you, Kara. It’s been a wonderful evening.”
Kara Pendleton smiled warmly. “No, thank you,“ she responded. “I really enjoyed our dinner together.” Especially the part you don’t remember, she added to herself. She stood up to leave, and Wissner followed suit.
“You know,” Kara remarked, “the evening doesn’t have to end here. You find me very attractive, Thomas, don’t you. In fact, Thomas, you find me irresistible. You can admit it; I won’t mind.” She knew perfectly well what he was feeling. She had worked carefully, at each of their encounters, to strengthen his natural attraction to her.
Wissner flushed. He couldn’t deny it. His body wouldn’t let him; looking at her, he could feel a stirring in his trousers which made him glad the restaurant wasn’t more brightly illuminated. Dr. Kara Pendleton was a far cry from the stereotype of the dried-up female psychotherapist. “Er, yes,” he fumbled. “It’s true.”
“Well,” the blonde replied, “I find you very attractive, too, Thomas. Why don’t you come back to my place with me, and we’ll see what happens.”
“I, I . . . of course,” Thomas Wissner stammered. Blood pounded in his ears. What was it about this woman? He’d never felt like this about anyone before, certainly not on a first date. And she seemed to know exactly what he was feeling.
The pair left the Grotto. Wissner let Kara take the lead, and she walked him to her car. “This is mine,” she told him. “Why don’t you get your own car now, Thomas, and follow me back to my place?”
Thomas nodded. “Of course.” He moved away toward the spot where he’d parked.
“Wow,” Thomas Wissner said under his breath. Kara Pendleton’s “place” had turned out to be a very expensive condominium. Antique bookshelves lined the walls inside, while the rest of the furniture combined elegance with obvious comfort. The kitchen and dining nook were gleamingly clean (he suspected Kara paid someone else to do that job; she didn’t strike him as the mop-and-broom sort).
He suppressed a pang of envy. He made very good money, but he suspected he couldn’t afford a place like this. Idly, he wondered how Dr. Pendleton could. Gesturing around him, he raised an eyebrow. “Nice apartment,” he observed. “Good investments?”
Kara laughed. “You might say that,” she said, eyes twinkling with amusement.
Wissner’s guess was correct . . . in a manner of speaking. For some years now, Dr. Kara Pendleton had had a very lucrative sideline. There were those who were willing to pay a great deal of money to have some inconvenient individual—a tax auditor, say, or a prospective witness in a corporate lawsuit—quietly rendered harmless. One way or another it would be arranged for Kara to meet her target, and once she did, she would use her hypnotic skills to deal with the problem. And if along the way she collected a personal bonus by turning her hypnotized subject into a sexual plaything, who was to know? Those who had hired her needed only to be satisfied that she had done what they were paying her for. And as for those she did it to, they remembered only what she instructed them to remember.
Just as Dr. Thomas Wissner would. Just as he always had.
“You don’t mind if I smoke, do you, Thomas?” Kara smiled.
“Of course not. It’s your apartment,” Wissner answered placidly. He didn’t really like being around smokers, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter at the moment. “They’re your lungs.”
Kara’s smile widened. She produced a pack of what seemed to be imported cigarettes from somewhere, and fitted one into a fancy cigarette holder which had been resting in a cup on one of two small tables flanking a long, low couch against one wall. She lit up and tilted her head back in obvious enjoyment, half closing her eyes.
A moment later her attention returned to her guest. “Sit, sit,” she urged, waving toward the couch. “Relax, Thomas.”
Wissner obeyed without thinking. The couch was very comfortable. He sank into its cushions with a small sigh.
Kara came over to stand in front of him. She took a drag of her cigarette, then removed it from her mouth, holding it by the holder between two elegantly-manicured fingers while she blew out a breath of smoke. “I know, it’s a bad habit. But I find it relaxing, Thomas. I find it very relaxing.”
Wissner nodded. “Relaxing. I suppose so.”
Kara inhaled again, then blew out another small burst of smoke. “It’s not just the taste, you know, Thomas,” she explained. “I like to watch the smoke, watch it curl, watch it spread through the air, watch it lazily curl through the air as it fades, until I can’t see it anymore. You understand what I mean, don’t you, Thomas?”
“Yes, Kara,” Wissner agreed. And he did understand. His eyes began following the swirling smoke.
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it? Once you’ve begun to watch it, you find it hard to look away.” Puffff . . . another little cloud emerged from Kara’s mouth. “And you don’t really want to, do you, Thomas?” Puffff. . . . “It’s so relaxing to watch the smoke, you don’t want to look away, Thomas, you just want to watch the smoke swirl away, watch the smoke swirl away and listen to my voice, let your thoughts swirl with the smoke, swirl away and disappear with the smoke,” puffff, “as you relax and listen to my voice.”
“Mmm,” Thomas murmured. He felt very relaxed now. His eyelids fluttered as he continued to watch the smoke. “Yes, Kara.”
“Yes, Thomas.” Kara Pendleton’s voice was low, soothing. “You’re so relaxed as you watch the smoke and listen to my voice. So relaxed as your thoughts swirl away with the smoke, swirl away with the smoke, so relaxed. You know it’s all right to let your thoughts swirl away with the smoke as you listen to my voice, because you’re with me, and as you listen to my voice and watch the smoke and let your thoughts swirl away with the smoke, you can hear my voice and it will tell you what to think, what to do, what to know, so that you don’t have to think, or do, or know, so that you don’t have to do anything but relax and watch the smoke. . . .” On and on Kara droned, punctuating her words with occasional puffs of smoke from her cigarette. She didn’t really need to take so much time with Thomas’s induction—he was sufficiently programmed by now that she could put him under in seconds if she chose—but drawing it out like this was a turn-on for her, just as it had been at the restaurant earlier.
At last she was finished. “Thomas, close your eyes now,” she instructed. The man slumped bonelessly on the couch in front of her obeyed. “Your eyes are closed, but you can still see the smoke, swirling, can’t you, Thomas. Tell me if you can still see the smoke, Thomas.”
“Yes, Kara,” came the response. “I can still see the smoke.”
“That’s good, Thomas, that’s very good.” Kara bent down and lightly ruffled the lecturer’s hair with one hand. “Now, Thomas, open your eyes. Open your eyes, but remain relaxed, your mind drifting in the smoke as I tell you what to do and what to think.”
Thomas Wissner’s eyes opened. “Yes, Kara.”
“You find me very attractive, Thomas.” It was an instruction, not a question, and it produced its usual effect: Thomas Wissner gasped and went instantly erect. A small moan escaped him. “You want to go to bed with me. You want to go to bed with me right now, Thomas!”
“Uhhh! Oh, God, yes!” gasped Thomas. “Please, Kara!” He tried to stand up, to move to embrace her, but one hand on his shoulder was sufficient for her to effortlessly keep him seated. His body knew what was expected of it.
Say, ‘Yes, please, Mistress Kara,’” the blonde brainwasher commanded.
“Yes! Please! Mistress! Kara!“ The words spurted out one at a time. Thomas was sweating now, shuddering with lust. Even if he hadn’t been hypnotized, he would have been unable to think at this point.
“Good boy, Thomas,” replied Kara. She ruffled her trance-bound toy’s hair again. He shuddered in pleasure at the sensation. “Now for the rest of the evening, I want you to call me Mistress Kara, the way you did just now. Do you understand, Thomas?” It always amused and aroused her to make Dr. Thomas Wissner, hypnosis unbeliever, use that clichéd obedient response.
“Yes—Mistress—Kara!” Thomas Wissner gasped out the words as he looked up at the woman standing over him, his eyes wide and innocent. Kara Pendleton felt heat rush through her own body at the thought of his helplessness against her.
“Good boy, Thomas,” Kara repeated. “Now stand up, please, and follow me.” She turned toward the open door to her bedroom.
“Yes, Mistress Kara.” Once again, Thomas Wissner obeyed. His body, sensing what was to come (or perhaps recalling previous experiences, at some primitive level far below conscious thought where Kara’s commands to forget did not apply) was eager to do as it was told. His mind, drifting peacefully in the smoke, had nothing to say.
Inside the bedroom, Kara faced Thomas and spoke. “I’m going to undress now,” she told him. “I want you to watch me undress, Thomas, watch me and enjoy watching me because you find me so very attractive. You will want to take me, want to grab me and hurl me onto the bed and force yourself into me, but you’ll stand where you are, Thomas, and just watch me until I tell you that you can move. Do you understand what you must do, Thomas?”
“Yes, Mistress Kara,” the hypnotized hypnosis skeptic moaned.
Kara had hung her jacket by the door when they had entered her apartment. Now, as Wissner watched, her hands went to he blouse. The top button was already unbuttoned, displaying just a hint of her considerable cleavage; now, her fingers worked at the next one, and then the next, until the shirt hung loose, exposing her taut belly and the generous bosom above it which was supported by her brassiere. She shrugged out of the outer garment, tossing it negligently away. Her skirt was next; she bent, bringing her bound breasts almost close enough to the immobilized Thomas Wissner to brush against him, and stepped out of it.
Her captive audience whimpered. The sound sent a thrill through her. She straightened up and raised her arms, posing on tiptoe with her wrists crossed above her head. Thomas Wissner’s breathing grew ragged. His hands made feeble motions as if to reach for her, but her command to stay where he was held him securely. Her control was absolute.
Item by item, the rest of her clothing came off. By the time she stood before Wissner in nothing but her high-heeled pumps, he was squealing softly, tossing his head and thrusting rhythmically with his hips.
“Ah-ah-ah, Thomas,” she admonished him playfully. “Waste not, want not. You can’t come until you’re inside me, until my flesh enfolds you.”
The thrusting subsided to a faint trembling. Strange helpless noises escaped from Wissner’s throat. Inside his mind, brilliant flashes now lit the smoke in which he floated.
Fully nude, Kara commanded her slave to undress himself. He obeyed, shivering with sensation and eagerness. At last he, too, stood naked.
“Now, Thomas,” Kara commanded. “Come to me now. Come in me now, Thomas.”
The lecturer surged forward, no longer locked in place, and seized Kara Pendleton. One hand dug into her honey-colored hair, disassembling the tight bun in which it had been tied and letting it fall down her bare back in a soft torrent. The other arm tightened around her as he pressed his lips to hers.
Kara responded, kissing him back fiercely and clamping her strong thighs around him. She reared back, pulling him off-balance toward her bed. The couple toppled onto the sheets.
Wissner plunged himself into Kara Pendleton, bucking and heaving in ecstasy. Kara moved with him, retaining just enough awareness to remind him: “You know what I like to hear, Thomas, say it, Thomas, say it and feel the pleasure.”
And Wissner responded as she had trained him to do, gasping out the words as he thrust into her. “Yes! Mistress! Kara! Uhhh! There’s no such thing . . . as hypnosis! Yes! Mistress! Kara! Nnnnhhh! There’s no such thing! As hypnosis! Yes! Mistress! Kara! Uhhhh!” Over and over he babbled the same words, as his flesh obeyed its own needs and the urgings of his gorgeous mistress’s body.
Finally he gave one great spasm and shrieked: “YES! MISTRESS! KARA—AAAAAAHHH!“ as he spurted into her, squeezed by her legs around him as if he were a tube of toothpaste. Kara let out a cry of ecstasy as well and clawed frantically at his bare back. Then both of them relaxed, sighing together. Wissner settled atop her, murmuring, “There’s . . . no such thing . . . as hypnosis. . . .”
Kara closed her eyes, smiling. That sentence was one of her private jokes on the unsuspecting Thomas Wissner. She’d trained him to say it while he was hypnotized and they were having sex. But if he were awake, hearing her say it would plunge him instantly into trance.
After a few minutes, she flexed her body, rolling so that she was on top.
Then she goaded her stupefied stud to another round, combining suggestion with artful caresses to turn him once again into bucking, thrusting meat which drove into her until at last she came again. Wissner, his flesh obedient to Kara’s own, joined her in orgasm once more.
She sat up, straddling Thomas Wissner’s limp form, and pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him deeper into the yielding surface of her bed. She shook her head to toss her hair out of her eyes. “That’s right,” she told the man now pinned beneath her. “There’s no such thing as hypnosis, Thomas. But what happened between us tonight could only have happened if I’d hypnotized you, Thomas. So when you leave in the morning, Thomas, you must forget all about it, because it didn’t really happen, you must forget even meeting me, Thomas. Because it didn’t really happen, and you can’t remember what didn’t happen, Thomas.”
The naked man underneath her mumbled, “When I leave here . . . forget you hypnotized me. Forget meeting you. Because it . . . didn’t happen. Can’t remember . . . what didn’t happen.”
“And how do you know it didn’t happen, Thomas? How do you know I didn’t hypnotize you, so that you must forget all about meeting me, Thomas?”
“Because there’s . . . no such thing . . . as hypnosis.” The words were barely audible.
“That’s right, Thomas,” Kara Pendleton purred. He’d recited his lines perfectly. The script she’d programmed into him was working just as it always did. “You’re very sleepy now, Thomas, you’re falling asleep, and when you wake up in the morning you will be fully awake and aware and will remember only that we had a wonderful, hot, sexy time together.” She giggled softly. “And when you leave here and return to your hotel, you will forget even that, forget we even met, just as we’ve talked about, just as you’ve agreed of your own free will. Do you understand, Thomas, and will you do as I’ve told you to?”
“Yes, Mistress . . . Kara. . . .”
“Good boy, Thomas. Sleep now.” Kara brushed Wissner’s tousled, sweat-damp hair. His eyes closed completely and within seconds his breathing shifted to a sleeper’s rhythm.
Kara disentangled herself from her slumbering slave, got up and padded into her bathroom for a shower.
Kara Pendleton smiled wickedly as Thomas Wissner’s car pulled out of its space in her condominium complex’s parking area. They had shared a nice breakfast in her apartment, just as they always did. And as always, the anti-hypnosis lecturer remembered only the edited version of the previous night she had commanded him to recall. When he reached his rented rooms, even that would disappear. He wouldn’t remember anything from the moment she’d approached him after his talk—and wouldn’t even know he’d forgotten anything.
Dr. Thomas Wissner smiled as he packed his suitcase. His lecture series here had gone over well, as it usually did. There’d been none of the hecklers who occasionally appeared, nothing out of the ordinary at all, in fact. Now it was time to move on to the next stop on his tour. There’d be a whole new audience to address, a whole new group of people who needed to hear that there was no such thing as hypnosis.