Tuesday began much the same as Monday for Freya. A thin crack of bright sun light blazed through the gap in the curtains. A gap that wouldn't close no matter how tightly the curtains were drawn. Freya didn't mind though. A yawn echoed across the room as Freya stretched and her sheets fell off of her. A smile crossed her face as the ray of sun passed across her face. The first few moments of waking up were always her favourites. Free from thoughts or stresses of anything going on. It was only short-lived however as the memories of yesterday and more importantly, Beatrice, came cascading in. The dam of sleep was broken and the river now flowed freely. Freya bit her lip as memories of her invaded any facet of her mind. She stopped. "What the fuck?"

A meagre shake of the head attempted to clear the thoughts away but all it seemed to do was rattle them around further. Frustrated, she got out of bed and went to the bathroom for a shower. The cool water drizzled over her adding to the frustration. Not that Freya minded too much when a showers pressure was a bit low, but today she really wanted to feel it pelting her. Balls for fists pressed against the white ceramic tiled wall. A few cracks already ran across some of the tiles snaking towards the ground. Freya steadied herself with some deep breaths fighting the urge to imagine Beatrice's perfume. It must have been hypnosis. There was no other explanation. It made sense from what Freya knew and understood of the concept, not that she'd ever bared witness to it. Her knowledge on the subject was rather limited; something to research. Freya was still struggling to wrangle with why it seemed to have such an effect on her too. She had arrived about 10 minutes before the lecture, probably even closer to the start time than that, she couldn't... dared not to imagine why it was so strong. But deep down she knew why, and the throbbing and aching backed that theory up. Even if she dare not acknowledge it's existence.

Freya hopped out from the shower and towelled off. The pit in her stomach and the knots of her loins felt a little more bearable, if only for the sake that she had a direction to look for answers. With a renewed vigour Freya quickly dressed, grabbed her laptop and began to google. The more she searched though, the more dejected she became. Not because her research turned up nothing, in fact it proved rather fruitful in terms of techniques and insights and what not. Freya could recognise the arm stroking and perfume as focuses, though acknowledging them as such didn't seem to lessen the effect they still held. The reason Freya was feeling dejected was because no searches turned up evidence of hypnosis being able to force someone into something. Anything the so called subject felt, or did, was entirely up to them. If they were uncomfortable enough with the suggestions, they wouldn't take any hold whatsoever. This revelation only further fed the light embers hiding in the depths of Freya's mind. Embers that had craved such treatment for an awfully long time. 

After, honestly, getting bored of all the research, and also having her stomach begin to rumble, Freya realised it was time for food. She quickly grabbed a coat after seeing how overcast it was outside and skipped to her door. She placed her hand on the knob and stopped. "What if I run into Beatrice?" The question rampaged through her mind like a steam train with horn blaring. Freya did not under any circumstance feel ready to face her. She knew she'd have to eventually, after all she was going to see her next week 15 minutes before the lecture so they could catch up. Freya hoped that she would be prepared by then. Nigh, she knew she had to be. Even with the sun being covered, Freya did still want to be outside but she settled for being next to her window as she ordered food for her room. Freya sat wandering what she was going to do come next Monday. Countless scenarios ran through her mind of where she would sit and what she would do. Freya even contemplated not going to the lecture, but any time that thought came up she almost automatically dismissed it as nonsense. She had to be there 15 minutes early to catch up with Beatrice after all. Freya was definitely going to be there. 

A knock at her door made Freya jump. It came again. Three simple taps. Without all the decorations she wanted in place yet, the knocks echoed around the room. An audible gulp emanated from her throat. Beatrice couldn't be here. She hadn't given her an address she was sure of it. Unless she had been told to forget. The fear gnawed at her mind like termites at a tree. She crept forwards the door. A shadow moved beyond it as the sound of irritated foot tapping carried underneath. 

Freya cracked open the door to see someone standing with a sandwich in one hand and scrolling on their phone in the other.

“Oh! Sorry. I was uh in the bathroom,” Freya said. She smiled sheepishly as she snatched her food. The deliverer grunted. A nothing response. Freya rolled her eyes as she tucked into the chicken and avocado sandwich. With a satiated stomach Freya came to a realisation. Resistance. Her research had shown that hypnosis and the vast effects would only work if the subject “wanted it”. Perhaps there was a way to practice, or, enhance her ability to resist Beatrice. A guttural determination filled her mind. She would find a way. Next week would be different.

So that became the focus for the remainder of the week. Every spare moment was spent taking notes, running over facts and training. Thankfully because it was the introductory week there wasn’t much to study or many readings to do for actual university. It was the best, the only, time Freya had, and she knew it. 

By the weekend sprawls of post it notes painted the walls. The planned posters and paintings would have to wait. There was definitely a pattern to the madness but any passerby likely wouldn’t pick up on it quickly. Left wall was first, right was second, and back wall was the final to get some notes. Reminders, notes, and thoughts. Not dissimilar to study patterns. Freya needed to know what was happening and how. An awareness was needed to stop it happening again. Countless times she followed the trail of notes trying to rearrange them; assemble and disassemble the route; truly figure out what occurred. It had to be a complicated answer. Some complex mixture of factors. It couldn’t be simple. It just could not. Not for Freya. But the truth is what Freya was hiding from. The simple truth. The truth that it was, in fact, very simple. But Freya wouldn’t… she couldn’t admit that. 

The weekend had come and gone in the blink of an eye. Hang outs with friends had been rejected. Too busy the reason cited. A partial truth. The sprawl of post-it notes had shrunk. Some were in the bin, some had flittered lazily to the ground never to be picked up, at least one lay forgotten behind the couch, but a dozen still remained. Perfume. Fingers. Beauty. Speech. Rhythm. Careful. Fight. Resist. Think. Combat. Deny. Free. The words were studied. A mantra on repeat. Something to bolster her resistance. Something to hold onto. Hope. Sunday night she climbed into bed with confidence.

Dreams haunted Freya though. One could argue they were nightmares, but those are meant to be scary. Not… arousing. A dark space. A black inky void that seemed to shift and move. Freya’s reflection an evil grin gleaming at her from below. Freya herself stuck kneeling. Heels began to click from behind her. Slowly. Methodically. Rhythmically. Freya couldn’t turn around. She didn’t have to. The fragrance arrived first. Rose and Sandalwood. Instantly she faltered. Her body swayed with the steps. Left. Right. Left. Right. Each click echoing louder in Freya’s mind. The perfume growing stronger. The warmth behind her. Her body too weak to move. One more step…

Her alarm blared. Interrupting the delicious nightmare; the tormenting dream. Sweat dripped down Freya’s face as she sat bolt upright. A familiar dampness caused her cheeks to burn red. One could imagine steam rising off of her from the various heats that Freya was experiencing. The heats that only seemed to fuel one another.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she whispered with anguished pleasure. Her pussy ached. Vaulting from the bed like a jack in a box she scrambled to the shower. She sat in the tub as her fingers to began to explore. The lips were slick. Freya dared not look, afraid of what she might find. But, she did dare to indulge. Any semblance of unease, of uncertainty quickly crumpled away like a fortress of paper. Half stifled moans filled the bathroom as she pushed one hand to the wall to steady herself. Even sitting on her haunches wasn’t enough as her body writhed with pleasure. Any semblance of control had vanished before even waking up. The other had begun to rub with a careless abandon. Freya had masturbated before, but not this fervently. Memories of being this wet evaded her, if they even existed at all. Her thumb teased her clit as two fingers tickled inside. Hips bucked. Moans escaped through a clenched jaw. Climax arrived. Waves of pleasure cascaded across what felt like every nerve of Freya’s body for a time akin to eternity, but in reality was barely half a minute. Freya lay there, head back over the edge of the tub; her body sprawled openly for another couple minutes catching her breath, . “Fuck,” Was all she managed to say to herself. A million thoughts rampaged in her mind. None that she wanted.

Carefully pulling herself to her feet was no easy task. With jelly for legs and thoughts running at a million miles an hour. Eventually she managed to turn on the cool water nozzle. The cool jets raced across her body but did little to dull the fires that roared inside. Freya stood leaning on her crossed arms against the wall allowing the water to wash over her. "It didn't mean anything. It wasn't anything." Conflicting emotions embroiled themselves in knots. They wrestled with each other with no care for the host in which they resided. Even deep breaths did little to stifle the raging war inside. Freya remained motionless hoping that maybe the sin of this morning could be carried into the drain. Not that she was religious, but shame bit at her like a swarm of mosquitoes. Rage stormed inside. At herself more than anything. Fear hid behind her eyes daring her to run. Scariest of all though? That was the lust. The desire that caressed every thought with doubt. A need that taunted her. Soon Freya would have to face Beatrice again; whether she was ready or not.