“… Three … four … five.” The hypnotist’s fingers snap. “Wide awake, and feeling energetic and wonderful. How are you feeling?”

Pamela opened her eyes. She blinked. She took a breath and let it out again. Inhaling again to speak: “Energetic,” in a voice barely more than a whisper, “and wonderful.” She closed her eyes again, for a whole second, then opened them and looked straight at the hypnotist. “Kind of relaxed. Also horny.”

“Horny,” repeated the hypnotist. “That wasn’t me. I didn’t do that. Just what we agreed, a beginning trance, followed by some fractionation.”

“I remember,” Pamela said. “That is, I think I remember. It was up and down and up and down, and wheee!” She threw her arms up in the air, like a delighted child. She put her hands back down on her knees. She shifted in her seat, almost like a wiggle. “But I am horny. I want you now. I really want you to fuck me.”

The hypnotist pulled back a bit. “There’s a problem. I think you are still pretty fractionated.”

“Yeah. Feels good.”

“Which means you are not really capable of consent right now.”

“Of course I am. Let’s fuck! I’ll do anything you want.”

It was the hypnotist’s turn to take a deep breath in and let it out. “That’s just it. You’ll do anything I say right now. Put your hands on your head, and quack like a duck.”

Pamela’s hands quickly moved to the top of her head. “Wack, wack, wack, wack, wack, wack!” she said.

“Stop quacking, and put your hands back down.”

Pamela complied.

“You see,” the hypnotist continued, “You are still fractionated, still under my influence. You aren’t capable of making a sound decision for yourself.”

Pamela slumped, crestfallen. “But I really want to fuck you,” she said. “What do I have to do convince you that I do?”

“To convince me? Nothing. You are making it quite clear that you want me to fuck you — right now. But right now you aren’t in your right mind. My fucking you right now would be no different than my fucking you if you were passed out drunk. It would be rape.”

“It wouldn’t be rape! How could it be rape? I want to fuck you. That’s the opposite of rape. I want to fuck you, I want to fuck you, I want to fuck you!”

“If hypnosis turns you on like this and you know it, then think it over, later, when your head is clear. Preferably after a good night’s sleep. If you are still interested then, let’s talk. For now, though, I think we should call it a night.”

“No, let’s keep going. Hypnotize me again. Make me yours. I want to be your hypnotized sex doll. I want to fuck you. I’ll make you feel really, really good. I’ll give you the best head ever. I’ll —”

“Pamela! Stop!” The hypnotist’s voice was sharp.

Pamela was silent.

“I am not going to fuck you, and I am not going to hypnotize you again tonight. This is about respecting limits, and you are pushing mine: I will not play with someone whose consent is compromised. This is where I set my boundary. Do not cross it.”

Pamela hunched where she sat. “I’m sorry,” she said, meekly. “I didn’t mean to be bad.”

“It’s all right. Like I said, you aren’t yourself right now.” The hypnotist sighed. “I’m a bit conflicted here. You deserve good aftercare, but I think hugging and cuddling you right now isn’t the best idea in the world. Would you like some coffee or tea while we sit together and talk, while you come back into focus?”

“Coffee, please. Black, two sugars.”

The hypnotist got up to fill the coffeemaker. “You are going to get clear-headed in good time,” the hypnotist said while bustling in the kitchen. Even now you are coming back to yourself, the trance experience fading to a pleasant memory.”

They sat together while Pamela sipped her coffee, talking of inconsequential things.

(source: The Life Erotic; model: Azura Starr; via: @deep-trances)

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