Hypnothe-Rapist: Starr Scores Ch. 05

"...Three...two...one..."

Finally, in a fluid circular motion, Angie passed her hand over Carl's head, as if tapping him with a magic wand.

"Wonderful job, Carl. You're under your trance. I am still holding your hand, to keep you used to my touch. I am now talking to you through your subconscious. If you can understand what I'm saying, give my hand a squeeze."

She kept her words paced just enough so that they would penetrate, and that his subconscious could register them. His fingers curled and flexed around hers.

"Terrific," she cooed. "You're doing amazing, Carl. Now I'm going to probe you, and set the wheels of healing in motion," she verbally caressed. "Carl's subconscious, I am speaking to you. What I will need you to do is complete a task for me. Subconscious, Carl's pessimism has created a roadblock in his journey to self-improvement. He has convinced himself that fortunate occurrences in his life are in one way or another tainted by misfortune. What he is in need of is some evidence to the contrary.

"So what I want you to do, Subconscious, is to go through Carl's memory bank and perform something of a touch-up on it. A lot of his files have very happy memories in them, but they have been stained by repetitive misfortune, and stuck behind files of sad memories. So what we'll want to do is clean up and refilter those files. Just like a computer system. Get it?"

He lightly squeezed her hand again.

"Good. Subconscious, we need to remind Carl that his life is not and does not need to be permeated by depression. We can't stop disappointment from happening, but we can work on changing the way he perceives and reacts to such events. If he is reminded of the good things in life, they will cushion the blow for him."

His hand gave hers one more soft hug.

Oooh, that actually feels nice, thought Angie. She did normally always hold on to the patients' hands while chatting with their subconsciouses, but somehow, holding Carl's hand felt a bit different. It was large, strong, smooth, warm and robust. Her hand felt warm and cozy in his, and instilled her with an as yet unknown feeling. A pleasant sensation came over her following this most recent squeeze. She let a few minutes of silence pass so that the subconscious could begin carrying out its assignment. She closed her eyes and took her own advice, breathing in deep.

It was almost 10:30. Sunlight peeked in the window blinds, giving Angie just enough light to look down at his peacefully sleeping body. She smoothed her other hand over his, stroking it like her pet. Carl's sheer masculinity was having a bizarre, unfamiliar effect on her. She didn't know what was happening, but she seemed to be inexplicably becoming...

...Turned on.

Whoa, whoa, wait a minute here, she thought. What in the...what is this? She had seen and treated literally dozens of gentlemen now, held their hands to earn the trust of their psyches, and nothing anywhere close to this had happened yet. She was heterosexual, she loved men, she saw them as interesting, underappreciated, beautiful creatures—she saw attractive gentlemen out in public anywhere and everywhere she went—but yet she wasn't exactly prone to such flights of sexual fancy. At least she didn't think she was. She was a grown woman, in her 30s. How was she becoming aroused doing nothing but holding a man's hand?

She looked back up into Carl's face, letting his subconscious continue what she told it to do. He wasn't a half-bad-looking man. Angela studied his features in the pale, narrow strips of sunlight leaking through the window blinds. Actually, reexamining him now in his state of blissful slumber, Carl Blankman struck her as more than just a little attractive. At 31, Angie had experienced a surprisingly sparse helping of romance in her life. Finding a mate or lover simply was not high on her list of priorities, as was making her career happen. Here today, in this moment, she began wondering if perhaps this deficiency in her life was catching up with her. Taking in his straight, thick, light brown hair, the strong creases in his relaxed face, his fresh shave, his unclenched jawline, his moderately broad shoulders, his smooth, yet semi-hirsute forearm, his warm, sizable hand barely covered by both of her petite lady paws...oh, this hand...she was beginning to think she could hold this hand all day.

It was clear that no matter what, she couldn't let anything happen outside the rigid boundaries of their professional relationship, she reminded herself...

Or...could she?

Not while he's awake, she thought. But perhaps while asleep...

She caught herself. Hey! she mentally chastised herself. What the hell do you think you're doing?! This man is a patient! Whatever you're thinking, put it out of your mind this instant!

Her brain was functioning just as usual. She had treated almost fifty different patients, more than 80% of which were gentlemen, and at no point thus far in her career had this situation surfaced. But while her brain was standing strong, the longer she held Carl's hand, the greater became the sensation assaulting her inside. It was such a...good vibration...

Suddenly, she could not let the man's hand go.

Her brain was being surrounded by a surging wave generated by her hormones. Angela Starr found herself being dizzied by exhilaration, and moments away from the onset of a startlingly potent sexual arousal.

Though she didn't know it, she was sealing the fate of her own sound mind. She didn't understand, as she was a qualified professional, trained for her mind and body to handle any and all such temptation with only the utmost self-control. And yet...she was succumbing. This patient's raw masculinity took an elusive, completely unforeseen hold on Angie's fragile, unsuspecting femininity, warming her blood starting at the hands and accelerating its circulatory stream. Her heart sped and began thumping her chest with sharp, weakening beats.

Oh, she...she couldn't. She promised him she wouldn't let anything happen to him. But...

Would I be letting anything happen to him?...

Her mind was clouded, her logical thinking blurred. She could no longer discern right from wrong. Was this ethical, was it...would this be transference?

I don't know, I...oh, my goodness...I don't think I can resist...

This was an entirely new phenomenon invading the healing stillness of Angela Starr's therapy. She leaned down towards Carl's face, even though she thought she could still detect a faint voice ordering her—

Don't you do it. Don't even think about it.

But the voice was drowned away. She could no longer withstand the current of the gentleman's magnetism drawing her in. Had she been able to take a step back and examine and assess, she would surely have come to her senses and ceased her hormonal behavior to allow his subconscious to perform its task in peace.

But it was no use; she was in too deep.

She perspired. Initial beads of sweat materialized on her forehead, moistening her about the hairline and eyebrows. She lowered herself horizontally onto the bed, from her sitting position, until she could audibly whisper to him.

Carl...Subconscious...if you can hear me...squeeze my hand.

His hand ever so subtly pressed her fingers between his, and her heart skipped as her breath caught in her throat. The rest of her body slowly began to react in turn.

He is asleep... she thought, reassuring herself. The man...is fast asleep.

Even as she pondered that her hormones were forcing her to cross the borders of depravity, she groped herself and fondled her breasts, gasping in response to the rare sensation that rinsed over her. She gripped her right breast, squeezing it like the ripe melon it now was. She closed her eyes and let them roll back as her breath escaped. It felt sublime.

Still holding on to Carl's hand with the other, she released her right breast and grabbed the left, rubbing the hardening nipple between her fingers. She needed immediately to stop her voice from moaning out in pleasure.

She looked back up into Carl's face, he still peacefully breathing in and out, with the sleeping mask on. Her face had melted into a mask of smoky, overwhelming passion. She felt she could no longer be responsible for the ramifications of her actions. There was no even thinking about turning back now. She surrendered to the first impulse.

Draping her body over his, Angela pressed her lips against Carl's. Breathing in through the nose, she let only a weak whimper emerge. Just paying attention to what was going on above the waist, she did not at first notice his unconscious reaction to the kiss, until she felt the proof brush her outer thigh. When she registered it, her vagina immediately dampened.

Oh my God... she thought, drowning in exquisite delight. She had no additional thoughts or words to add. Oh my God.

She had not even been considering the sensation of his penis stiffening against her, which made it all the more tantalizing. Now she was really burning up in desire. She desperately held herself back from moaning and groaning as she writhed on top of Carl, breathing her warm breath over his lovely face.

She kissed him again, as discreetly as she could, which proved not very discreet, and ground her breasts into his torso. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't remember ever being this explosively aroused in her life before now. The small part of her mind that remained sane continued feebly screaming at her in vain.

Angela, what, are, you, DOING?!! Stop that! Stop it right now! Do you have any idea what this could lead to, for God's sake?!

HEY, hey, okay, just calm down, her libido replied. Look, look. He's asleep. We've done this a hundred times. They're dead knocked out until we bring them back to life. As long as a bomb doesn't go off, he won't wake up. CHILLAX.

Oh, as if that makes it okay to molest him?! the brain retaliated. Starr, this is beyond unethical. Do you realize we could lose our license for this?? We could be sued! Hell, we could even be arrested!

Okay, AGAIN, easy. Once more, none of that is going to happen, because the man is not, going, to wake up.

Angie pried her face off Carl's and swiped at the sweat running into her eyes. She hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, whipped it open as carefully as she could and kissed his naked chest. Now unoccupied, her hands began to scoot downwards.

She heard a sighing sound. Looking up, her heart all but stopped as he began to react.

Thinking as quickly as she could in her stimulated state, Angie promptly slipped her hand back into his, leaned back up to his ear and whispered, You're okay, Carl. Just continue relaxing. Everything is fine. Just go on with your task at hand. And remember...trust...the doctor. Trust her. She is your friend. She wants to make you happy. Just relax.

He settled back down to ground zero again. Angela exhaled in relief. That close call certainly threw a scare into her, but did not silence her sizzling libido. She was half-aware what an incredible risk she was taking, but by this point the decision was out of her hands, which were floating down south again to find that Carl had already undone his trousers himself once under the comforter.

Dear God, Angie thought as her hand inadvertently rubbed him through his briefs. He had solidified into a three-quarters erection. She was dying. Both her pussy and her panties were soaked. She didn't know how she was managing to keep her hand off herself. She could only speculate she was too overeager to expose and touch him, having not fondled a man's naked cock in years. But what was she to do with it?

Her excited vagina squealed up at her in overzealous eagerness with its idea.

We can't have intercourse with him, she silently told her dismayed pussy. We simply can't. It's out of the question.

She could attempt to manually masturbate him, but if she stroked him to completion, she would have an awful time disposing of the evidence. If only there was a way to—

Of course! She chuckled quietly to herself as the obvious answer popped up right in front of her nose.

Fellatio!

She could suck him, and should he come, she could swallow it down and thus was no one the wiser. Her only concern was...could she do it? Now that she took the moment to think about it, she wasn't sure she knew how to effectively administer fellatio.

Well, she thought, I really do want to give him a magnificent climax, but...if I can't do it, I can't do it. I'll just have to try my best.

She again worked as cautiously as could be, shimmying Carl's trousers and briefs down around his legs, until his cock popped out. Oh my goodness, thought Angie, seeing his hardened dick. A hot shiver shot through her. I cannot...believe...I'm doing this. I must be out of my mind.

You're damn right you're out of your mind! her mind shouted at her. What is wrong with you, woman?! You have more control over yourself than this!

Not right now she doesn't, argued the relentless libido, hormones in ranks behind it like troops. We've got her. Suck it, Starr.

Angie contorted herself into a more comfortable position to orally grip Carl's penis and, unable to wait any longer, plunged her hand into her panties, rubbing her impatient, sticky wet pussy.

His dick stood still at full erection for her. Oh my God, this is nuts, this is crazy, I don't believe this, Angela repeated to herself over and over. But she couldn't stop herself. It was as if all the years' worth of sexual absence she had stored up was unleashed all at once, attacking her with unparalleled force. As her open, quivering lips descended upon the glans of the penis, she realized...

This was it. She could never go home again.

It was beyond impossible to believe, but it was happening; her lips opened wider to consume the thick, hardened cock she had seized from its undergarment cage, until she took it all the way down to the base. Being as yet inexperienced in the art of fellatio, she almost choked, once the tip of his cock triggered her gag reflex, but released it and caught herself in time, making a mental note to keep an eye on that. Figuratively, of course.

This should be fun, she thought as she deliriously groped and thrusted at herself under her sopping panties. Even if you don't know how to do it that well, don't worry, she assured herself. Just have fun. Just enjoy it. It's a lovely dick.

She considered how her pussy automatically produced its own slippery lubrication, a helpful gift from nature in the act of intercourse, and applied the same principle to her (face's) lips. She licked them all around a few times, and satisfied they were wet enough, again slipped Carl's cock into her mouth.

This is amazing...so wild...and so bizarre. I still cannot believe I'm doing this, she thought in astonishment. This is so depraved.

...And yet...

She thought for a moment. Carl Blankman was a sad person, he told her, and he wasn't completely sure why. This reminder prompted her to think about what she was doing. A sudden thought piqued her interest. Could it be argued that there was actual justification for putting this man under and then performing fellatio on him? Could this act serve as a supplement to his treatment, in order to booster his somber mood through sexual release?

Could Angela do this and carry on with a clean conscience via this loophole?

I guess I'll find out... She continued rubbing herself, feeling the mighty sensations growing within her, like a volcano about to blow. The warm, spongy tenderized skin of his hard cock rubbing against her palate and tongue made her ooze with hot lust on the inside and her pussy's love syrup on the outside, running over the entirety of her hand. Hair adhered with perspiration to the sides of her forehead. She helplessly swiped at her brow and eyes with the back of her hand, hastily breathing through the nose, unable to take her lips off him. She had long since left any vestige of rational thinking behind.

Oh, God, she thought repetitively. How am I going to know when or if I make him come? If he did come in her mouth, she didn't know if she'd be able to handle it. The chain reaction might just send her over the edge and make her cry out uncontrollably, losing hold of his dick. She was already more turned on than she thought any human being in history could ever have been before. Even if she was apprehensive of the results of making him come, she didn't think she could stop.

She vigorously hand-raped herself with a level of force she didn't think she was capable of. Her tearing eyes squeezed shut as she frantically strained for breath. She didn't think she could go on much longer whether he came or not.

Angie had only been focusing on his dick, leaving his balls out of it. Had she been fondling him about the balls, she would have felt them tightening and drawing up to the base of his cock. She could, however, feel the veins in his cock bulge in her mouth, throbbing and pulsing intensely. She was all but suffocating, struggling for respiration, fighting to get the necessary oxygen in and out. Her fingers and cheekbones smarted with aching, but the aching was no match for the wild near-orgasmic flames shooting through her cells. Fifteen more seconds, and all hell would break loose.

Fortunately for them, only five seconds later, his come shot from his balls through his dick and blasted the back of Angie's mouth.

She had not been anticipating the climax in the least. She was so impossibly preoccupied with trying to find a way to hang on to his dick in her mouth, breathe and keep herself going all at the same time, she had completely forgotten about making him come until it happened. But when it did happen...

Gasp. OHMYGOD!!...

The Earth split.

She had to concentrate like mad to focus on her proper order of immediate actions. She pressed hard against her pussy, trying fiercely to hold back her own orgasm until she could make sure she swallowed all his come. The sensation of simply feeling that she had successfully sucked him dry relieved her of any concern of the flavor or consistency. She didn't care how it tasted, how hard it hit her or how easy it went down. Her only thought now was, Oh, please...PLEASE let it all go down so I can come!!

Come she did.

The results were unprecedented. She felt beyond extraordinary, as if propelled from her own skin, having an out-of-body experience. She felt as high as a kite on helium. Her eyes still shut, she lost all sense of purpose, balance and equilibrium. She was riding an inner rollercoaster, immobilized by the centrifugal force. Psychedelic splashes of fluorescent colors and distorted shapes flooded her vision beneath her pinched, wet eyelids. Repeated surges akin to shocks of electrocution pricked her every nerve ending. Her first orgasm in what felt like months reached beyond description, and beyond compare.

When she could think, see, feel and breathe once again, Angela blinked her eyes open and let them refocus. She needed several minutes to get her bearings back and recollect what had just happened. When she did, she gasped down at Carl's uncovered, now limp penis, lying lifelessly still.