Kiara knocked urgently on the dressing room door, her mahogany brown knuckles beating out a nervous, almost desperate rhythm against the ancient, dented surface. Her teeth worried away at her lower lip, her dark eyes flitting anxiously from side to side to make sure nobody was watching her. Not that anyone seemed to care what she was doing backstage-she’d gotten a few disinterested glances the second or third time she came to see Paul after the show, but for the most part, everyone was too busy to care.
Irrationally, though, Kiara felt like that could change at any second. She tapped out another swift flurry of knocks, her mind already convincing itself that this time Paul had decided not to bother going back to his dressing room after the act. Maybe this time, he was sick of getting impromptu visits from some weird, obsessive, chubby little black girl with coke-bottle glasses and a boring plaid dress. Maybe he’d decided to duck out early to avoid her. Maybe he was in there right now calling security and telling them to kick her out and maybe call the cops if she came back again-
The door opened, revealing a tall Caucasian man with slicked back blonde hair and sallow, sunken blue eyes. He wore a dark blue bathrobe over a pair of plain white boxer shorts, and his face had the freshly-scrubbed look of someone who’d just washed off a coating of stage makeup. He looked down at Kiara with a disdainful expression on his face and said, “Oh. It’s you.” Then he turned and walked back into his dressing room without another word.
But he left the door open. Kiara scurried through and closed it behind her before nervously approaching Paul as he flopped back down into his chair. “Um, hi, Mister Dallas,” she mumbled, staring down at the floor as if she expected a trap door to open at any moment and banish her from his sight. “I, I thought your show went well? I, um, I really liked the thing you did with that girl, the one where her hands were… were stuck to the, um. Chair.”
Kiara’s voice sounded high and squeaky in her ears, and she couldn’t stop wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. Paul didn’t respond, didn’t even look at her, and Kiara decided to just go ahead and cut to the chase before she annoyed him so badly that he simply kicked her out of his dressing room. “So I was wondering if we, um… if we could try again. To, um. To hypnotize me. Like the girls in your shows. I, I really think that if we give it just one more try, I’m sure I could…” Her voice momentarily dried up in her throat, and she forced herself to squeeze out the last few words. “Go under. For you.”
Paul looked up at her skeptically. “Mhmm,” he muttered, somehow managing to make a sentence with exactly zero actual words sound sarcastic. “Tell me again… how many times have you come to my dressing room after the show asking to be hypnotized?” The way he asked the question left no doubt in Kiara’s mind that he already knew exactly what the answer was, but she didn’t dare ignore it. He hadn’t turned her down yet, but with every evening she slipped backstage after watching his hypnosis show, Kiara felt like she was getting closer and closer to the limits of his patience.
So instead of making a cutting remark, Kiara kept her eyes down and mumbled, “S-seven, sir,” in a meek, hesitant voice that her friends probably wouldn’t have believed her to be capable of. She fidgeted like a schoolgirl in front of a strict headmaster, her left foot nervously rotating back and forth in place as she struggled to control her desire to apologize and beat a hasty retreat. She couldn’t do that, not if she was going to get what she wanted.
“Seven.” Paul repeated the word like he was carving it onto a tombstone. “And you think that this eighth time is going to do the trick. You think that this time, I’m just going to snap my fingers and say, ‘Sleep’, and you’ll drop right down into a deep hypnotic trance for me. No more struggles, no more false starts, no more misplaced resistance. Just eighth time’s the charm.” Sarcasm dripped from every word, as if they’d spent all day marinating in an acid bath right up until he flung them at her.
Kiara steeled herself against the storm and said, “I… I hope so, sir. I think I’m getting better. I… I really felt like something was happening last time.” It wasn’t true at all-Kiara knew that last time had been a miserable failure just like every other time, a solid hour of letting his words wash over her and staring at his swaying pocket watch and experiencing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. But she couldn’t tell him that, not when he was trying so hard for her.
“I see.” Paul leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, exposing the pale flesh under his robe carelessly to Kiara’s gaze. “Why do you even want to be hypnotized so badly, anyway?” he asked, his voice softening a little into honest bewilderment. “I mean, you’ve come to see my show every night for a week now. You’ve spent hours watching the watch, listening to the inductions, and none of it’s worked, right? So why keep trying? Why not just look for something else to do with your evenings?”
“I…” Kiara was suddenly, desperately grateful for her dark skin. It hid the hot, prickling blush that crept up her cheeks when she tried to describe the way she felt that first night she came to the Paul Dallas Erotic Hypnosis Extravaganza, dragged to the show by a friend who wound up on stage herself after ‘failing’ the suggestibility test. Kiara remembered watching Dashawna’s face with an aching sense of envy as it slackened into blank, fascinated bliss under Paul’s confident instruction. As soon as she saw it, Kiara wished it could be her up there, smiling vacantly and nodding with soft, compliant joy at every word.
She dreamed about it later that night. In the dream it was her arm floating higher and higher instead of Dashawna’s, her drifting hand that Paul picked out of the crowd to join him up on stage. It was Kiara who sank into deep, obedient trance for him, her vacant mind accepting every word and following his instructions to the delight of the crowd. Kiara dreamed about experiencing spontaneous orgasms, about having her hands stuck to her breasts, about Dashawna hooting and whistling as she watched Kiara get wetter and more aroused every time Paul snapped his fingers. And at the end of the dream, Paul leaned in and whispered softly into her ears…
Kiara woke up before she heard what he said, but the dream clung to her all day. She didn’t say anything about it to Dashawna-in fact, she privately resolved never to speak of the hypnosis show ever again-but she went back by herself that night, hoping against hope that somehow her brain would settle into relaxation and allow her to volunteer. When it didn’t happen, she slipped backstage after the show, nervously knocking on Paul’s door and asking if she could try a private hypnosis session, just to see what it felt like…
And what it felt like was nothing. Total disappointment, every single night. Kiara always sat on the old, sagging couch against the back wall, she always followed the watch with her eyes, and he always talked softly to her until she finally admitted it wasn’t working and went home. And every night, she dreamed about what it would feel like if she finally succeeded. Her sleep was filled with fitful, recurring fantasies of stripping naked, spreading her legs for the audience and masturbating. Of begging Paul to let her cum, whimpering and moaning as his hypnotic control held orgasm just out of her reach. Of the final, all-consuming pleasure as a snap of his fingers unleashed the torrent of pleasure that she’d been holding back at his command.
It got worse every single night, so bad that Kiara masturbated herself to sleep thinking of the previous night’s decadent fantasies. Her fingers worked furiously away in her soaking pussy, picturing herself gasping out, ‘I’m a mindless, obedient slut,’ to dozens of thrilled and aroused audience members as she pawed at her plump, tingling breasts, and every night her subconscious seemed to find new and more exciting variations on the theme of total hypnotic submission to Paul’s will. She could barely even concentrate on her classes anymore; the real world seemed increasingly distant and irrelevant to her now, a mere veneer over a deeper and more potent existence as Paul’s mesmerized plaything that existed only in her dreams.
But every night, despite her aching hunger for trance, it simply refused to come. The Kiara who mindlessly drooled onto her own tits and stared helplessly at the watch with glassy, unfocused eyes only existed in her fantasies, tantalizing her until she thought she was going to go out of her mind with arousal. She wanted to be hypnotized so badly she could barely stand it now, her thoughts were filled with daydreams of locking a collar around her neck and repeating, ‘Yes, Master,’ over and over as Paul’s voice filled her head with programming… but her nights with Paul were always boring and uneventful. Infuriatingly uneventful.
Kiara needed it so bad she couldn’t think straight… a fact brought home to her when Paul said, “Yes?” in a tone of voice that suggested she’d lost a lot more time trying to come up with an answer than she intended to. “Look, never mind,” he sighed in exasperation. “Just… maybe we should forget it tonight, okay? I’m tired, you’ve probably got… school, or work, or whatever it is you do when you’re not in my dressing room. Maybe another time.”
Kiara heard herself choking back a sob of frustration. “No, please!” she whimpered, aware of the pathetic desperation in her voice but utterly unable to conceal it anymore. “Please, I… I’ll do anything you ask. I mean, I have to if I’m hypnotized, right? You, you could command me to do anything, anything at all, I promise. I won’t resist you, I won’t even try. I’ll be yours, completely.”
Paul’s eyebrow quirked up with mild interest. He looked her over skeptically. “You’ve said all that before,” he replied with a smug grin, as though he was secretly delighting in her desperation. “But the thing is, that only matters if you’re capable of being hypnotized. If you can’t go into trance, you can’t do any of the other things that go with it, can you?”
Kiara’s eyes widened into puppyish pleading behind her chunky glasses. “I, I promise it’ll work this time. Just please give me another chance, sir. I, I know I can be hypnotized, and if… if it works, I’ll-I’ll beg to suck your cock, I’ll call you ‘Master’ and get down on my knees to deep throat your shaft until you shoot your load straight down my throat. I won’t, I won’t be able to stop myself.” Kiara had never actually gone down on a boy before, she wasn’t even sure if she could, but she was willing to say anything if it kept Paul from kicking her out.
“But again,” Paul replied, infinite condescension dripping from every syllable, “that only means something once you’re in a trance for me. You can tell me… hell, you can tell yourself about the things that you’re going to do the second I hypnotize you all you want. Maybe you even believe it, I don’t know. But no matter how much you convince yourself you want to be my obedient fucktoy once you’re under, it won’t really work unless you can be hypnotized. Right?”
Kiara whimpered, the pulse in her clit like thunder in her ears. “I… I do believe it, sir, honest I do,” she murmured, her words coming out about an octave higher than usual as her arousal wound her up tighter and tighter with anticipation. “I, I just know if you give it one more try, I… I can be brainwashed into a mindless, horny slut for you. I, I promise. I’ll play with myself for you, I’ll wear a collar and, and bend over you can stick your cock in my ass…”
Kiara knew she was babbling now, free-associating a stream of random images from her nightly fantasies, but she couldn’t stop herself anymore. “I, if you’ve got, got friends, I’ll suck their cocks too. I, I can be brainwashed into taking three dicks at once, fucked in every hole for your pleasure, I…” Her brain felt like it had locked up completely, the words flowing directly from her tingling cunt to her lips without any conscious intervention on her part.
“I’ll fuck other women if you want me to, you can make me fuck other women,” she stammered, her brain tripping over itself in excitement. “M-make me push my face right up against their pussies, smear their cum all over my chin. H-hypnotize me into being your horny, bisexual slut, sir, fuck my mind away with pleasure and I… it’ll all work, it’s going to make me blank and docile and, and malleable. I just need a chance, sir, please. I just need to be hypnotized. I just need to go into trance, and… and I know I’ll be mindless and obedient for you, Master.” She didn’t even register the last word. It came straight out of her dreams of surrender.
Paul’s expression was skeptical, but Kiara couldn’t help but get her hopes up when she saw the tent in his boxer shorts. “So you really believe all that?” he asked, fixing her with a stern gaze. “You’re really sure that as soon as you’re hypnotized, all those… those things you mentioned are going to sink right in and you’ll just snap to attention as my mindless, obedient plaything. You’ll accept all my words as truth, you’ll rewrite your personality and your memories to match my every whim, all of it. As soon as I hypnotize you.”
“Oh, yes, Master!” Kiara burbled eagerly, her panties soaking through with anticipation. “I’ll be so brainwashed for you, I’ll think whatever you want me to think, I’ll remember whatever you want me to remember. And, and if I do resist you, even a tiny bit, you can just wipe my memories away and do it all over again until I’m a perfect little submissive slut for you, I’m certain of it.” Her eyes shone eagerly with excited, pleading enthusiasm. “Absolutely certain.”
Paul smiled, his first genuine smile of the evening. “Sounds like you’re coming along nicely, then,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Sleep.”
Kiara’s mind jumbled up with a sudden rush of emotions so intense she could barely understand them-joy at finally getting the trance she craved so badly, shock at his sudden betrayal, dawning comprehension as the true memories of the last week flooded into her drowsy brain, astonishment at the ease with which her head slumped forward onto her chest in deep, helpless hypnotic relaxation-but before she could think about any of it, her mind faded into sweet, submissive bliss and she slowly sank to her knees as Paul’s hypnotic control enfolded her.
“I obey, Master,” she murmured, her eyes slipping shut and her fingers creeping down to pull up her skirt. She tugged her panties to the side, exposing her slick, shaven cunt to Paul’s hungry gaze, and her hand began to tease her pussy into deepening bliss as she prepared to receive her latest instructions.
THE END