What is it that happens when you click with someone?
What is it that happens when you feel that spark just by looking at someone, by watching them laugh, by watching them talk?
I’m fearful of my own reactions to this man, approximately my age, dark and curly hair, a little taller and lankier than I. He’s the womanizing sort, flitting from lady to lady all night at the party – well, that’s only partially true. The girls are coming to him as he hangs out with his friends, trying to engage him, one after the other. They laugh together, talk together, make eye contact for just a few minutes before they’ll both seem to decide to take their leave.
I’m fearful of my own reactions, because I’ve kept watching him all night; like all of these other girls, I feel drawn to go have a conversation with him.
Usually I’m not the sort to feel such a strong physical attraction to someone; maybe it’s the bit of booze I’ve been sipping, maybe just the general atmosphere, but God, when I watch him casually roll his sleeves up to his elbows, or run a hand through his hair, my stomach does a little flip. Even just the fact that he’s charmed all these women is turning me on; each time he passes someone he’s met before, they share a smile and sometimes a little touch on the shoulder or arm.
Eventually he catches me, as it was bound to happen; his eyes meet mine from across the room and he smiles, trying to smooth the tension of the moment. I blush and quickly look away. Take another sip of my drink. Try to forget about him.
I’m fearful of my own reactions because I soon find myself walking up to him and saying hi before I can stop it from happening.
“Hi,” he says with a warm grin.
I freeze up like a deer in the headlights. I’m nothing like those other girls who spoke so elegantly with him. I’m a blushing mess, who is probably more than a little tipsy at this point.
He’s staring. He’s studying. I’m actually so turned on that I hope he’s not somehow smelling it on me.
“Enjoying the party?” I choke out.
“I am!” he says, and his body language is so loose and inviting that it calms me down a bit. “It’s one of those more ‘adult’ things, though, so I can’t really let my guard down or let loose.”
“Are you usually a big partier?” I ask, genuinely a little surprised. He seems so calm, but I suppose on second look I could see him as a former frat boy or something.
“Hmm, maybe.” He puts his hand to his face, thinking. “I guess I’m just used to a little more stimulation than this. Games or something. I actually have a little hobby that usually livens a place up, but this doesn’t seem like the right environment.”
He grins mischievously.
“Yeah. I’m a hypnotist.”
Oh, fuck. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Just as I was easing into the flow of conversation. Fuck.
“Y-yeah?” I squeak. I try to cough to cover it. I must come off sounding like I think it’s bullshit, except for the fact that my cheeks are bright red.
“You know, most people will just tell me straight up if they don’t believe in hypnosis,” he says, playfully chiding me.
“No!” I exclaim. “No. That’s not it. I do believe in it.”
He frowns a little. “Then what?“
Oh, God, please stop. My head buzzes with excitement and alcohol.
“I’m just surprised. I’ve… been hypnotized before.”
“Oh, really? Cool! Most people don’t even think it’s real. What did they do, was it for a stage show or something?"
"That’s…” Memories flood back to me of the first time connecting with another hypnofetishist, of how he spun his pocketwatch in front of my eyes, took me deep, made me cum hard without a single touch as I stared straight ahead with empty, glazed-over eyes.
I snap back to reality and see the man in front of me narrow his eyes at me, just slightly.
“Do you mean…”
No. No no no no no. I need to get out of this.
“It was very nice to chat with you,” I blurt out, taking a step back. “But I need to –"
His voice is deeper. More stern.
I stop, and close my mouth.
I’m fearful of my own reactions.
He comes up to me, uncomfortably close, and looks me square in the eye, lowers his voice.
“I’m going to get to know you on a far more intimate level than this.”
He grabs my wrist and pulls me into a quiet room to the side, closing the door behind me. He turns on me and backs me into the wall. I get one last look at his face, wild with some sort of feverish purpose, frighteningly close to mine.
His large hand fully shatters the gap between us and grips the front of my shirt, throwing me slightly off kilter, towards him. The other hand comes up to cup my chin, forcing my eyes to his and leaving my body and balance at his mercy.
The slow burn between my legs becomes impossible to ignore with my body in such a helpless position. I can’t help but whimper, and even worse, his gaze devours the arousal that’s all over my face and turns more and more heated…
…And suddenly I can see the intention in those eyes, I can feel the sweet pull towards oblivion, I can tell that this man wants to hypnotize me out of my mind and that he is going to, right now, right this moment I’m being drawn in, in, in…
I feel the tell-tale flutter and dip of my eyelids and it’s that second when he pulls on my shirt, jerking my body into him, and that shock makes me drop deep, deep, so quickly that I become boneless and limp in his arms. As my mind reels and sinks I can feel him lowering my body into a heap on the floor. He smoothes and strokes my hair and I go even further, and I get so turned on it nearly hurts as he whispers words to me to take me deeper, deeper into sleep, deeper into his hands and his power…
I can only go deeper.
The ache between my legs drowns out my thoughts and soon even his words are a buzz in my mind with no distinction. I’m carried on the lilt and tone; I’m being hypnotized by simply the sound and feel of his presence, mindlessly listening and yielding to this man I barely know.
I can only go deeper.
I don’t even know his name but he is mindfucking me so well I don’t even care. My cunt has been thinking for me this whole time.
What does it say about me as a person that I will allow a near stranger to take me to such a vulnerable place?
I think he just said that…
Blur and hot, heavy arousal fogs up my mind and I forget the shame. I forget where I am. I forget that I’m mumbling to him. I can only focus on the desire to open myself more.
I can only go deeper.