“I’m not hypnotized…”

My play partner was playing with their chest, staring dully at nothing, emptily repeating the same phrase over and over again.

“I’m not hypnotized…”

I was sitting in a chair directly in front of them as other scenes at the play party were carried out around my partner. They gave no signs of noticing any of it, only speaking their mantra:

“I’m not hypnotized…”

Someone behind me poked me on the shoulder. I cocked my head back, signaling I was listening.

“That’s really hot,” the voice behind me said.

“I know,” I whispered, trying my best to not interrupt the other scenes.

“I never would have considered hypnosis as a part of BDSM, it’s so out there. But looking at them, I gotta say, I see the appeal.”

That bugged me, but now was not the time to litigate that. Instead I gave them a dismissive “Yeah,” and waved them away. “Let me enjoy the show.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry.”

They backed off and went back into the social area of the dungeon.

“I’m not hypnotized…”

Their voice, coated in a dreamy glaze, was just audible enough over the rest of the party. I couldn’t contain a giddy, horny smile.

How could that person be so dismissive, even if only at first? This was one of the sexiest things in the world; a submissive so fixated on their mantra of denial that they don’t even know how deep they are. That their subconscious accepts and executes my programming even as their mouth repeats that mantra.

They were so hot, standing there, exposed in a crowded room, too dazed to even realize what’s going on.

A small droplet of drool left their mouth as they repeated again.

“I’m not hypnotized…”