I smiled and sat down on the couch. The man glanced at me, then turned back to his cell phone tapping his fingers against the glass of the screen. Finally he took another look at me, made a few last taps then slipped his phone into his pocket and turned his attention towards me.
“You’re Rebecca right? Grace and Michael’s friend,” he said, guessing right. He added, “You look a little bit, overwhelmed.”
I laughed, “Well it’s not often my best friend comes out as a submissive hypnotized slave and then invites me to a hypnosis fetish party. I really am still trying to wrap my head around all of this.”
“Are you interested in hypnosis?” he asked.
“Not really. I just came to try to figure out what Grace was getting herself into, and if she was safe,” I explain.
He nodded, “Well that’s noble of you. Looking out for your friend. I’m sure she’s safe. Michael is a good hypnotist and very ethical. Not everyone is mind you, but you can be assured that anything going on between them is agreeable to Grace.”
I gesture around where men and women are mingling. It’s obvious, even to an outsider like myself, that some people are being hypnotized. I see people of both genders with their eyes closed, their heads slumped forward as someone talks to them.
“So you’re saying that not everyone here is ethical?” I ask.
“It’s like anything. Some are, some aren’t,” he said, “Grace found herself an ethical one.”
“And what would an unethical one do?” I asked.
“Well he could make her do nearly anything he wanted. He could have her become a slave, one with no say in the matter. He could convince her that slavery was what she wanted,” he explained.
I shudder slightly, the calm way he described it made it sound even more dangerous and frightening. I watched as a woman across the room slumped forward, her head hitting her chin.
“So everyone here is into this kink?” I asked.
“Or friends of someone. Like yourself. Or curious,” he said, adding, “Or both.”
I can tell when a guy is sizing me up, and I watch as his eyes drift down to my chest, then down to my legs. They move back up and find my eyes, and he smiles again, noticing that I’m less at ease then before.
“I see,” I said, glancing again around the room as fewer and fewer people seemed to be awake. It was not quite at fifty percent in some kind of trance, but getting there.
“Tell me your name,” he said, his voice suddenly firm.
I glanced back at him, noticing that he was staring intently at me. Our eyes met and I replied, “Vanessa.”
“Vanessa, you look a little concerned. Tense. Don’t worry, you’re not here to be hypnotized, so you won’t be hypnotized. You’re just here to watch others go into a deeply relaxing sleep, not to relax yourself,” he said, then added, “relax yourself.”
I nodded, agreeing, “Not here to relax myself.”
“Besides you’re talking to me, and not someone who’s going to hypnotize you. So you can relax, it’s nice to talk isn’t it?”
I nodded again.
“Nice to talk and relax and not worry about an unethical hypnotist finding you, and making you relax as he talks, not making you feel more and more comfortable and relaxed.”
I nodded again, smiled and relaxed back into the comfortable couch. It was nice to just talk and not worry about all this hypnosis nonsense. It was good to not have to worry about Michael being an unethical hypnotist, and to know that Grace was safe with him.
“And as we talk you can just relax more and more, feeling so good with me Vanessa, so heavy and sleepy. So wonderful. So good to relax, listen to my voice and let go,” the stranger said.
It was nice, to feel at peace. To relax and follow the words. To let go. I noticed him counting, and a second voice was counting with him. The second voice was slower, more feminine, and stumbling as if she could barely keep up. Then everything went dark.
I sat up and blinked. The man smiled at me, looking up from his phone.
“I’m happy to report Vanessa that you’re an extremely good hypnotic subject. Very open to suggestion. Sadly for you, you’ve found one of those unethical hypnotists,” he said grinning.
He turned his phone around to show me the screen. It was on an Instagram account and there was a picture of me, sleeping topless. The caption read, “My new slave.”
I glanced down and noticed I was topless.
“What the fuck,” I said angrily, trying to yell but not able to get my voice over a quiet whisper.
He laughed, “Feel your hand floating to your head now, feel that feeling of heaviness, of sleepiness. Of obedience.”
Without my doing anything my hand floated up, and my palm touched my head. As it did my anger faded, and a calm blank peace filled my mind. I noticed Grace and Michael coming over.
“Hey we’re going home, are you okay?” Grace asked, grinning, “I see you got into it.”
“I’m good Grace. Thank you,” I replied, not knowing why. I wanted to warn her, to tell her that I didn’t know why I was topless. To scream, but I just smiled.
When the couple was gone I turned to the man, “How may I serve you Master?”
He smiled, “That, you’ll learn.”