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Induced
I want to believe that hypnosis works.
I want to think I can be put under. I want it to work. I mean, the
thought of it is so sexy. Talk about about the ultimate in power
exchange. I let someone into my head, into my deepest thoughts, and
let them plant ideas, let them plant suggestions that I will follow.
I'm not going to do anything I wasn't
willing to do anyway. That's not how it's supposed to work. Hypnosis
can only do things you want it to do.
And I believe it can work. I know
people who smoked for years and years quit overnight because of
hypnosis. I've seen hypnotists convince people in the crowd that they
can't move their arms. I've seen people go into a trance and be
completely relaxed, and then claim they don't know what happens next.
But I've never done it. I've never
been able to. The closest I can get is to pretend. To role play. And
I'm certainly not above that.
That's why I'm sitting here, at my
computer, with noise-canceling head phones on, staring at a screen,
watching a spiral. It's why I'm listening to her voice and trying to
go under. Trying to feel what she wants me to feel.
The word 'obey' keeps flashing in the
spiral for maybe a tenth of a second. That's supposed to be faster
than the eye can pick up. That's the whole idea; the eye DOES pick it
up, but not consciously. It's subliminal.
But I can see it. Just like I could
see the single frame of Tyler Durden early in Fight Club. Maybe it
comes from old memory games I used to play. Maybe it's that
hyperfocus thing I do sometimes. I don't know. All I know is that I'm
probably not supposed to notice the word.
I'm supposed to just listen to her
voice. Just listen. Relax. I'm supposed to feel the relaxation in my
feet, feel it spreading through me, letting my muscles relax one by
one. It's supposed to feel good. So I take a deep breath and try to
relax. I try to feel it, try to imagine that I really do feel the
relaxation making my body heavy. I try to image that I really do feel
it slide up to my knees. I try to pretend that I can't move my feet
from where they are.
And I don't panic. I don't panic
because it's not real. I just sit there, breathe, and relax. I relax
and watch the screen. I relax and let the program do its work.
And I ignore the words I hear at a
distance, only in my right ear. I don't worry about them telling me
that I'm supposed to have an empty mind, that her words are becoming
my thoughts. I pretend I don't hear that. I just focus on relaxing
and on the spiral in front of me.
I watch as the spiral goes translucent
over a picture of the beautiful woman sitting across the room,
waiting for me to finish her program. I watch the picture shift to
another shot of her from behind. Then to a shot of her feet in knee
high Doc Martens. I watch the pictures, listen to the voice, and
ignore the flash of “obey” during the cycle of pictures. I
pretend that I can only see her standing there with her hands on her
hips, looking down at me with a smirk. I pretend that I can only see
the combat boots, or the dirty riding boots. I know she made this
just for me. Her voice tells me that. It tells me to relax, to enjoy
the pictures.
They start to cycle faster as the
voice tells the relaxation to go up over my chest. I watch as I'm
told that my body is being paralyzed, that I am stuck to the chair,
and it feels so good. I watch as other women join in the cycle. The
Asian girl with her boot up on a stool and a gun in her hand. The
blonde girl in army fatigues and stiletto heels. I focus on that, and
I pretend not to notice the brief flash of the man on his knees. I
watch the dominatrix with her crop, and I ignore the gimp in the full
leather suit.
I listen to her telling me to relax,
to become part of the chair. I listen to her telling me to just
drift, and I ignore the other voice telling me how good it feels to
be empty, to not have to think.
I listen to her telling me to obey, to
do what she says, and I watch as the pictures flash faster and
faster, going through more and more pictures of beautiful women in
boots. I watch as, slowly, more and more men in boots start mixing
in. I watch as there is a tenth of a second flash of a huge cock.
I try to just relax. Just let it
happen. Listen to her voice. Don't think. Thinking is bad. It feels
so good to let her think for me.
An image of her in gloves, boots, and
nothing else. Words flashing telling me I am her slave.
She tells me to relax. To submit.
Numbers appear on the screen. They
begin slowly counting down, each number dropping down. Her voice
tells me to go deeper. To submit. To obey. Go deeper. With each
number, I go deeper and deeper. I get more relaxed.
The voice tells me that when I wake
up, I won't remember any of this. I will just remember being relaxed.
I will remember being relaxed and will ask her to make me another
video. When I wake up, I will be alert and happy. And I won't
remember.
Until I wake up, I'll be hers.
Obedient. Submissive. Deeper and deeper.
I won't wake up until she tells me to.
Won't wake up until she counts back up to ten and tells me to wake.
Nothing else can wake me up. And I don't want to wake up. Why would
I? I'm so relaxed. So obedient. So submissive.
She whispers in my ears, telling me
that I'll want to do more hypnosis. Telling me I enjoy hypnosis. Telling me I am her slave. That I will do what she wants.
Finally, the numbers end. Down to one.
Relax and obey.
The video ends, but I don't take off
the head phones. I'm not supposed to be able to move. I'm supposed to
be paralyzed, part of the chair, but relaxed and happy. Relaxed and
obedient.
She comes over and pulls the phones
off my head, turns the chair. I let my eyes droop.
“How do you feel?” She asks.
“Relaxed and obedient,” I say,
letting my voice be sleepy. I'm playing along. Might as well pretend
it worked, even if it didn't.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Not thinking,” I say. “It feels
so good to let you think for me.” Maybe I'm over doing it. Maybe
that's too complete a sentence to say when under. I don't know. I
have no frame of reference.
She doesn't seem to mind, though. She
smiles. “What are you?”
“I am your empty slave.” I think
that's what she wants to hear.
Her smile gets bigger. “You can move
again,” she says, her voice still soft and enticing, the way it was
on the video. “Move and get on your knees for me. It feels so good
to obey.”
I slide off the chair and onto my
knees.
“You can kiss my boots. It feels so
good to kiss them.”
I don't need to be hypnotized to know
that. I bend forward and place my lips against the soft black
leather. I want to push out my tongue, but I can't; she hasn't told
me to do it yet. If I were really under, I wouldn't do things I
hadn't been told to do. I have to play the role. So all I can do, for
now, is kiss.
“That's a good slave,” she says.
“You make me happy. It feels good to make me happy. Doesn't it?”
Without taking my lips from her boot,
I say “It feels so good to obey.”
“You want to lick them, don't you?”
Her voice is still soft and comforting. But she knows me. She knows
what I want. “You can lick them.”
I start sliding my tongue over the
leather. She tells me to go slowly.
“With each lick, you will tell
yourself that you are my slave,” she says. “Each lick will bind
you deeper to my will.”
I press hard into where the leather
hugs the arch of her foot. I tell myself that I'm her slave. I try,
so hard, to let this work. I want this to work.
“With each lick,” she says, “you
fall deeper and deeper. So deep now.”
I slide around her ankle, licking the
heel and slowly moving up towards her knees.
“With each lick,” she says, “You
become more my slave.”
I keep licking.
“Serving me feels so good,” she
says. “Licking my boots feels so good.”
I moan softly as I slide back down her
leg, moving towards the toes so I can stop where I started. So I can
enjoy the feel of my tongue against her leather right at the toe.
“Good boy,” she says. “Good
slave. It feels so good to obey.”
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