"I've wanted to fuck you for years now," Chelsea sighed, tension melting from her chest and shoulders as the words slipped out of her mouth. It felt so good to release the weight of that secret, to let all those filters and barriers collapse and tell Amy everything that had been on her mind for so long. It was the most liberating sensation she could possibly imagine, and just getting it out into the open at last made her whole body sag into the couch cushions with delightful, soothing relaxation. She wasn't worried about what Amy would say at all. She wasn't worried about anything.

She just kept talking, spilling her secrets in a loose, sleepy monotone that made her sound ever so slightly stoned. "Ever since that trip to New Orleans, when you went off with that guy and his girlfriend and told me not to wait up for you. I spent the whole night wondering what you were doing, whether you were kissing her pussy the same way you kissed her lips back at the bar, and I spent the rest of the trip sneaking glances every time you raised your shirt to get beads. I... I think about you a lot, Ames. I probably masturbate two, three times a week remembering your tits."

The hitch in her breath almost sounded like hesitation, but Chelsea knew better. She could feel the furtive intensity of all those masturbation sessions, dripping lazily into her mind like the slow feed of an intravenous drug and concentrating that stoned, sleepy feeling that flooded her brain and made it so easy to let the words spill out. "You've got such amazing boobs, Amy. It's why I always suggest things like hot tubbing and pool parties and trips to the beach. I know you're going to wear one of those tight little bikinis that show the edges of your big pink nipples and I can jill off at the end of the night thinking about you."

It was a little strange when Chelsea thought about it, this sudden urge to confess all of her deep, hidden feelings to her oldest friend. So she didn't. It was really easy not to think about things when she could feel Amy's finger on her forehead, constantly tracing a slow, sleepy spiral around and around on her warm, sensitive skin. Trailing all the way in... and then all the way out. All Chelsea had to do was focus on the motion of the finger and let the words flow past her lips. Everything else could become dim and distant and unimportant. She smiled, so happy that she was so good at... at....

"Sometimes I daydream about being tied up," Chelsea blurted out, the revelation bursting in her brain with a pleasure that wiped away all her other thoughts in a wave of pure, undiluted ecstasy. "When we all found out you were going to Boston to visit a kink convention, and Melanie and Laura were making all those jokes about leather and whips and stuff, I didn't say anything because I thought you'd be able to hear my voice crack. But I think a, a lot about being made... helpless. Bound with my legs behind my head and my cunt exposed. M-most of the time it's you doing the tying."

She sighed again, her thoughts dissolving even further into peace and pleasure as each secret finally escaped the recesses of her innermost fantasies. She didn't know why she hadn't said anything sooner. Of course Amy wasn't shocked or repelled or horrified by Chelsea's desires. She shared them all herself. All those fears that Chelsea was too fat or too short or the wrong color were just her own self-doubts messing with her, and there was no judgment in her friend's gentle, soothing touch. Only soft, warm relaxation and... and....

"In my fantasies, you... nnnnh. You play with my pussy. N-not always fast, sometimes you really like to tease me. And I, I can't do anything because it's not my fingers doing the touching. It's yours. I mean, it is mine, but it doesn't feel like mine, you know?" Chelsea knew she wasn't doing a good job of explaining it, but her mind was distracted by the image of Amy's pale pink fingers slowly stroking up and down Chelsea's slick, light brown folds. She could feel the slow, torturous pleasure seeping through her brain as she remembered all those times when her hand stopped feeling like it belonged to her at all, when it became simply an extension of the Amy in her fantasies and her mind sank into rapturous fascination as she gave in to the illusion in her head.

She could really feel it, Chelsea realized distantly. Not just imagine it but genuinely feel her own fingers skating across the wet, sensitized skin of her labia, dipping into the cleft between her thighs and coming away soaked with musky fluids that she used to slowly paint her own arousal onto her flesh. Her skirt was up around her waist, her panties entirely gone. She had one leg down on the floor, the other hanging loosely off the back of the couch. She was entirely exposed to Amy's gaze. When had she... when did she... when....

"I, unnnnh, all those times I listened to. To you, talking about your wild weekends, your play parties, I... I was pretending to be supportive, but I really just wanted to hear about you having sex, Ames. I'm sorry, I should have been honest with you from the beginning. I just wanted to listen to you tell me all about the women licking cum out of your pussy, about what it was like to be hypnotized and fucked in front of a whole crowd of people. I couldn't get enough of it, it's been fueling my daydreams for so long. I've wanted you for so fucking long, Amy." God, it felt so wonderful to get that off her chest. Like her shirt. Chelsea pinched her dark brown nipple tightly with her free hand, a moan slipping out of her mouth as she slipped deeper into warm, comfortable relief.

"Wuhhh, waaaaa...." It felt like it was getting harder to talk, the pleasure building in the back of Chelsea's brain until her mind was almost overwhelmed with it, but then she focused on Amy's finger again. She let the pleasure flow over her and around her while she allowed her thoughts to center only on the spiral tracery on her fawn-colored skin, and the orgasm that threatened to capsize her thoughts into mindless ecstasy subsided into another surge of hot, wet euphoria between her thighs. Cumming would distract her too much. She needed to share everything with her friend. All of the truths she'd been hiding for far too long.

"When you talked about... about learning how to hypnotize someone, I..." Chelsea whimpered, feeling her thoughts spiral closer and closer to the ultimate truth she'd been concealing all this time. "I wanted it to be me. I knew what you did when you were hypnotized, what you wanted to do to someone else when you used hypnosis to put them into a sleepy, sexy trance, and I wanted to be... s-so fucking helpless for you. My mind completely controlled. My thoughts d-directed and shaped and, and oh FUCK it sounded so hot, Ames."

She could picture it so easily. She had pictured it so easily, so many times in so many different erotic scenarios. Chelsea coming home, frustrated after a long day at the office and needing to find a way to relax. Chelsea developing a headache, and Amy offering sympathetically to distract her mind from the pain with the magic of mesmerism. Chelsea offering to help Amy with her studies by practicing a new induction, with herself as the helpless subject whose mind spun deeper and deeper into blank, thoughtless obedience. All of them ended the same way, though. No matter where they started, they always wound up with Chelsea helplessly masturbating for her best friend while all of her hidden fantasies spilled out in a torrent of mindless, horny babble and she finally confessed that she wanted to be a lesbian fucktoy for Amy.

"But I, I couldn't. I couldn't make myself say it." Chelsea felt a wave of confusion swamp her drowsy, befuddled brain as she tried to connect two seemingly contradictory concepts. She knew that was the truth. Every time she thought about responding to one of Amy's innocent mentions of hypnosis, every time she imagined casually and carelessly accepting the offer that her friend put out for her, Chelsea thought about what it would mean to put her mind so completely in the power of a woman she had such intense feelings for. She wouldn't be able to keep her secrets if she was hypnotized. She wouldn't be able to escape the truth. She'd be known for who she truly was, and everything would change.

But... but what was happening to her now, wasn't it exactly what she pictured when she thought about being hypnotized by Amy? Didn't she imagine herself lying with her head in the other woman's lap, stroked and soothed by Amy's gentle touch into warm, peaceful relaxation with almost irresistible ease? Didn't she daydream about her friend's light, comfortable suggestions melting her mind into open, helpless vulnerability until she couldn't stop herself from blurting out the truth? Wasn't it her fantasy, every time, that Amy's mesmerizing voice and tender caresses would make her too horny to stop herself from masturbating right there on the couch?

Somehow, the two thoughts wouldn't quite resolve. It was as if Chelsea's brain short-circuited every time she tried to connect them, as if the moment that would make all of it make sense kept getting stroked away by the delicate swirls of her own fingertip against her throbbing clit. She couldn't remember, because... because it wasn't important to remember. It wasn't important to think about anything right now but telling the truth at last, because the truth would finally let her cum. The truth would finally give her the release she craved. Amy wanted her to be honest, and Chelsea was too deeply relaxed to do anything but obey.

"I was always so afraid that if I said yes, you'd hypnotize me and find out my secret. And then you'd... you'd go away, or you'd be grossed out, or you'd be really 'understanding' and we'd maybe play together every once in a while and we'd make each other cum, but you... you wouldn't give me what I really wanted." This was it, Chelsea knew. This was the truth she was approaching, the truth she couldn't even admit to herself without deep, irresistible hypnosis helping her along. The secret she was keeping even from Chelsea.

"I never wanted to have free will," she said, her voice soft with astonishment as she heard herself speak. "I, I thought I did, because I didn't know any better, but when I heard you talk about everything hypnosis could do to someone, I felt this sense of--of need. Of longing. It came out in fantasies, daydreams of you doing some sneaky hypnosis trick because you were tired of me pretending that I wanted to be anything but your helpless, obedient fuckdoll. Because I was convinced you knew. All along, I was certain that you could see it written on my face. 'Chelsea wants to be a mindless slave for Amy.' Did you know? Did you always know?" She could hear the quiet pleading in her voice, a desperate hope that finally bubbled up from the core of her brain as she at last came to the confession that scared her even in the depths of trance.

"Yes," Amy responded, leaning down and lifting Chelsea's head to give her a deep, soulful kiss. It finally triggered the orgasm Chelsea had been craving for so long, and she saw stars as she came and came and came under the touch of fingers she'd forgotten were her own. The pleasure erased her thoughts, crumbled her barriers, melted away her resistance and left her joyously open to every suggestion she could possibly imagine. And thanks to Amy's stories, Chelsea could imagine quite a few.

"I've known all this time, beautiful girl," Amy purred, reaching down to trace her spirals onto Chelsea's soft, pillowy breasts. "I've only been waiting for you to be ready to admit the truth. And now that you have, my sweet, sleepy pet... you're going to be mine. Forever. Doesn't that sound lovely?" Chelsea could only moan in response. But this particular confession, she realized, was best expressed without words.

THE END