Signed First Edition Ch. 01

On the last page of the introduction, a phone number with a 626 area code was written in pencil in a blank specifically designed for the purpose, along with an amount in another underlined blank. That amount was twenty-five thousand dollars. The area code, of course, meant that Mr. Cathwright (or whatever his name was) lived in the northern portion of the Los Angeles metropolitan area.

The rest of the book gave step-by-step instructions on how to enslave my wife (or girlfriend) using the gem I was intended to buy. The "Introduction" imparted slightly more information than Mr. Cathwright intended to relinquish, of course. Obviously, quite a bit of "triggering" had been done during Elaine's trance time, or else the "specific gemstone" wouldn't have to be "specific." I also had to believe that such specificity was, in fact, accurate, since the photos had been altered to change the object's appearance. More to the point, since the "instructions" had been provided to the "lucky spouse/lover" beforehand in book form, I had to assume that an especially deep-set suggestion had been implanted which prohibited her from being placed into a trance by anything BUT this special trinket.

Not that that mattered a whit to me. Mr. Cathwright had clearly not figured on one very profound truth. I happened to like my wife exactly the way she was. I had no intention of trying to seize control of her ... mentally or otherwise. The problem, of course, was: what been "done" to her up to this point? How had he "changed" her? What was this "enhancement" that was supposed to manifest itself? How could I protect her from this scumball? Should I threaten him? And if so, with what? Legal action seemed a little farfetched, especially if word of this got out somehow. Talk about a news item going viral! Something like this was just MADE for the internet gossip sites!

Elaine muttered something incomprehensible in her sleep and snuggled her fantastic body into mine again. It was a long time before I fell into a fitful doze.

...................

October 25th, 2011

I was awakened sometime after dawn, and through the hazy background of an especially erotic dream, I became slowly aware that Elaine was once again stroking my iron-hard erection. Sunlight filtered in through the bedroom window, casting a cheery glow across a tableau that I believe I shall never forget. My buxom wife still lay beside me, but she had moved lower in relation to my prone figure, her face just inches from my stiff manhood, watching in mute fascination as her fingers stroked up my shaft, then paused before moving back downward, caressing, fondling. Her hand felt slick, slippery; and as I strained my eyes to see what was happening, I observed that my cock was coated and shiny. Elaine's hand went to her mouth for an instant between strokes, and I realized that she was using her saliva to make her efforts more enjoyable on my part.

I couldn't suppress a loud groan. "And good morning to YOU, Pet," I managed to mutter.

"I couldn't wait," she said, never taking her eyes from her task. "I watched you sleeping for the longest time ... but then I just had to do this. Lie back and let me. Please, Rod." Her rhythm never slackened, and with a shuddering sigh, I nestled my head back into my pillow and basked in the feelings she was causing.

But then something changed. Warm. Wet. Sucking. I struggled up to look again, but her long brown hair was obscuring the view. This wasn't right, I told myself. Elaine had given me head only once during our two years together ... back before we were married. She had told me that night that she "didn't like the taste," even though I had stopped her before I came. She had demurely refused to repeat the act, and I had never argued with her about it, nor had I made any effort to make her feel guilty about withholding oral pleasures. She loved it when I gave HER enjoyment through the use of tongue and lips, but it had always been an unspoken agreement between us that pleasures were to give and take at our individual discretions, and never to be a cause for hard feelings. This was love, after all, and respect was the greatest manifestation of love.

"Pet," I moaned, "I ... I ... thought you didn't ... um ... like to ...."

"Oh, Rod, shut up," she chided, continuing the rhythmic stroking with her strong, slim fingers while she pulled her lips away from me long enough to answer. "I can't believe how your cock is throbbing! I can't believe how much you're enjoying this!" She ran her free hand up and gently rubbed her palm across my stomach. "Your muscles are so taught! They're quivering!" The errant hand came back down and cupped my balls. "I am going to make you cum SO hard!" She lowered her head again and began sucking.

I hesitated. Was this the "enhancement" I had read about in the book? If so what should I do about it? I reached down and put my hand on her head with the intention of forcing her away from me and perhaps breaking this hypnotic spell she was under. But WAS she? Oh, God this felt good! Her head was bobbing up and down, and her hand on my slick pole was moving as well, matching the movements of her spectacular mouth. There was a sudden, familiar welling up within my loins, and before I could react, I was past the point of no return.

"Elaine!" I croaked. "I'm ... I'm going to ...!" And my body convulsed, arching up, my hips straining off the bed. "Aaaahhh!" I screamed, and I felt my fluids gushing through me, out of me, into her. Over and over. It seemed to go on forever.

She gave a surprised, pleased little "Mmmphhh!" of a sound as my cum started flowing, kept up the suction with her mouth, stopped for a moment, sucked again, stopped, restarted. It took me a long twenty or thirty seconds to realize that she was swallowing ... over and over, while her pumping hand continued to milk every drop from my quivering, shaking, euphoric body. She finally stopped her manual stroking and held my shaft at its base, while she licked it, full length, like a long, fleshy popsicle, then sucked at its tip again and licked some more. I just lay there, my muscles relaxing, my mind floating.

She relinquished my cock at last and scooted her body upwards until her face was even with mine, our noses touching, her full breasts flattening against my chest. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh my GOSH, Rod! That was so fantastic! I can't BELIEVE how hard you came! You were cumming forever! God, I LOVED doing that! I can't WAIT to do it again!"

My breathing had finally slowed. I was really concerned by this, but her enthusiasm had caught me off guard. "Pet," I stammered, "that was really great. But I thought you hated doing that. I thought you hated the way it tasted. You told me that once."

"Oh, that was a LONG time ago. And I always LOVE the way you make me feel when you go down on ME. And ... and ... I realized that I'd been awfully unfair to you by not reciprocating. I've been horrible! I'm SO sorry. And being here looking at you while you slept ... and you were really hard ... and I love you SO much ... and suddenly, I just HAD to do it to you like that. And Rod ... you tasted GOOD! I LOVED it! And I've wasted SO much time by not doing it until now. And ...."

"Elaine!" I interrupted. She fell silent, looking curiously into my eyes. "Pet, don't you think it's a little strange that this revelation came over you so suddenly?"

"Well, like I said, you look so delicious lying there, sleeping, and I ...."

"What happened to you last night?" I implored.

"Last night?" She really seemed puzzled now. "What do you mean?"

"During your 'book event?' You said that the author at your little party hypnotized you. What do you think happened?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I didn't suck him off, if that's what you mean." I didn't respond to that, but I kept my eyes tender and filled with concern. Eventually, her countenance softened ... she blinked ... her brow furrowed in thought. "You think I liked doing that to you so much because ... because I've been mentally altered somehow. You think this is some sort of post hypnotic suggestion." She made it a statement.

"What do YOU think, Pet?"

She has a habit of nibbling on the corner of her lower lip when she finds something troubling. Her eyes had shifted and lost focus, and it was obvious that she was thinking hard about this. Despite her preoccupation, she obviously found something to her liking as she chewed her lip, and her pink tongue began licking at the corners of her mouth. It suddenly dawned on me that she had just discovered a few wayward drops of my semen that needed tending to.

After a long minute, her eyes focused on mine again. "I had a crush on Reginald Rollins when I was fifteen," she told me earnestly. I could only look at her blankly. She smiled. "I had a crush on Pete Smithers when I was eighteen ... and I secretly hoped Ron Hopson would ask me out on a second date when I was a sophomore at UCSB, and I cried when he didn't." I gawked a bit. "But in my whole, entire life, there's only been you, Rod. I was a virgin when you took me that first time, and even though I gossiped with my girlfriends in high school and college about sex, the truth of the matter is that everything I know, YOU taught me. I may have THOUGHT about other guys, but I've only loved you, Rodney Haversham!"

I kissed her lightly. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"If that hypnotist planted something in my brain that made it easier for me to please you, then I don't think it matters, does it? It's still only YOU that I'm pleasing. Right?" Her eyes narrowed accusingly again. "And what makes you think that I don't have the ingenuity to come up with a new way of satisfying my man all on my own?" She stretched her arms up and put them around my neck, flattening her body against mine even more.

"Ingenious, yes," I told her lightly, and kissed her. I rolled over onto my back, dragging her atop me, and I put my arms around her waist, lowering my right hand to clutch her left buttock. "After all, I married you for your magnificent ... mind."

She giggled, but then sobered and gazed imploringly at me. "And Rod ... PLEASE let me do that to you again soon. Please?"

I smiled. "It's a terrible waste, you know. Every sperm is sacred." Since we'd started trying to get pregnant, we'd often invoked "Monty Python's Meaning of Life."

"I never really knew just how much of it there was until just now," she told me, blushing. But then she looked imploring into my eyes. "Please?"

.........................

Breakfast that morning was an interesting affair. I was desperate to determine just how "under the influence" my beautiful wife was after her evening's dalliance into the realm of hypnosis. On the other hand, she simply didn't seem worried about her sudden shift of preferences concerning oral sex, and in fact, genuinely relished her newfound ability to satisfy me with toe-curling, spine-tingling, screamingly fulfilling orgasms. Now, when we happen to engage in either morning or afternoon sex, the hours immediately following provide a subtly changed atmosphere. Elaine goes about her chores with a sort of dopey, contented countenance that is, quite frankly, contagious.

And so it was that, sitting across from each other over our bowls of oatmeal, she reached out and played with my fingers, gazing rapturously into my eyes, sighing often, and looking as if our breakfast nook was Cloud Nine.

"This morning was fantastic," she muttered dreamily.

I groped for something to say. "I can't believe you act so satisfied. I didn't please YOU."

"You ALWAYS please me," she responded earnestly. "You ALWAYS make me cum. Every time. And you work so hard at it. It felt so ... so ... WONDERFUL to do that for YOU."

I cleared my throat. "I never thanked you for the book."

"You're welcome," she said simply.

I was really having to struggle for information here. "What did YOU think of it? Did you look through it before you bought it?"

Her brow furrowed for a long moment, but then she seemed to dismiss it. "No, I just thought you'd like a copy." The smile faltered for another instant before settling back on her pretty lips. "Do you think it's worth anything?"

"Probably not very much," I answered, trying to find some way to figure out how much she really knew about the book without coming right out and asking point blank. "I'll keep it, though. It will remind me of you." We just looked into each other's eyes for awhile, holding hands like a couple of smitten teens. "It's sort of a strange subject though, don't you think?"

Again her brow wrinkled in puzzled thought. "Um ... I ... uh ... didn't really get a good look at it. What's it about?"

I regarded her closely. "Hypnosis."

But that seemed to satisfy her, and her contented smile returned. "Well, that makes sense. He's a hypnotist, after all. I'm glad you like it. Do you want some more cinnamon toast?"

I decided not to press further. She was obliviously happy, and I didn't want to upset her if I didn't have to. I was going to have to attack this problem at the source. While she busied herself with the toast, I went into my study and phoned the number from the book.

............................

The address was in San Gabriel ... not very far from Pasadena at all. But the Los Angeles area can be exasperating at times ... most of the time, actually ... and there was no direct way to get there. So I just followed my GPS in the late afternoon traffic through what seemed to be dozens of traffic lights and turns. It was a fairly nice apartment complex, but nothing outstanding. The units were larger than they appeared from the outside, though, and when I rang the bell I was ushered into a small den-slash-library. I was not surprised to recognize the lady doing the ushering as the girl in the photographs which adorned my signed first edition. Other than saying "Good afternoon, Mr. Haversham," she was very closed-mouth, and I got the impression she was angry about something. "My husband will be with you in a minute. He's just finishing up with another ... client." And she turned on her heel and left.

Since I'd been summarily dismissed by my hostess, I decided to explore a little. I scanned the bookshelves ... maybe two dozen shelves altogether, containing, I estimated, three or four hundred books. Half of them were modern softcover fiction. There were only a few books on hypnosis, but there were several copies of the same book Elaine had brought me. And to my utter amazement, there were a number of an identically bound volume entitled "Using Erotic Hypnosis to Voluntarily Enslave Your Husband or Boyfriend," by Catharine Cathwright. I took down a copy and examined it. It was set up identically to the book I had at home ... same publisher, same everything, technically speaking. The pictures showed a handsome man of about thirty in the same poses and undergoing the same various levels of hypnotic trance induction as the lovely Catharine had displayed in my book.

As I stood there, gawking at this new concept in literature, I was interrupted by the sound of two men talking. I watched them walk past the den and on to the front door. The elder of the two opened the portal, seeing the other man out. "Henry, I know you and Jenny are going to love this new lifestyle. I guarantee you that she's going to be overjoyed by your new level of control over her. You're a very, very lucky man to have found such a girl. Give me a call if you have any questions or run into any problems ... but if you just follow the directions in the book, you won't be sorry about any of this. Goodbye."

He walked back to the den and approached me with an outstretched right hand. "Mr. Haversham ... may I call you 'Rod?' Rod, I'm Reggie. Thanks for coming over on such short notice. It's really a pleasure to meet you."

I hesitated before shaking hands with him. If he noticed, he didn't show it. The dark-haired beauty had followed him in, and stood behind him with pursed lips. I still held the book I had been examining in my left hand, which dangled by my side. I figured his age at about thirty, though he was definitely NOT the hypnotic subject pictured in the second book. His eyes were sharp and clear ... but above everything else, cheerful. He wore an expression of openness and friendliness and his handshake was firm and genuine. I was absolutely astounded to find that my first impression of him was good. I don't know what I'd expected ... but it wasn't that.

Before I could say a word, he turned toward his wife. "Cathy, please get a bag."

That, of course, didn't mean a thing to me, but it had a profound effect on her. She seemed to be having several conflicting emotions ... exasperation, anger, perhaps desperation. At his command, her lower lip started to tremble and a tear slid from her left eye. "Reggie ... Reggie, please! Twenty-five grand! I worked SO hard on that girl! She didn't want to come at first, but I just KNEW she'd be a PERFECT subject, and I ...."

He turned and held her by the shoulders. "Cathy," he said in a stern, placating tone. "We've been through all of this. I do not charge my friends. Period."

"Friends? You only just met him!"

He let go of her left shoulders and gently stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, wiping away the tear. "You need to obey now," he told her gently. "You need to smile at me and nod your pretty head and obey me. You don't need to understand my reasons, you just need to be my submissive ... compliant ... obedient ... acquiescent ... subservient little girl." With each adjective, her breath seemed to catch, her eyes fluttered, her body quivered. He let go of her, and she swayed slightly. "Now, go get a bag, Cathy."

She blinked. She seemed defeated. "Twenty-five grand, Reggie," she said quietly.

"Tell you what," he told her cheerily. "I'll charge him double for the second one."

Her lips twitched at the corners until she was giving him a little smile. "Now you're making fun of me. They're both still head-over-heels in love, and they probably always will be." She glanced briefly in my direction and blushed, as if realizing for the first time that I had heard everything they'd said. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

"Listen," I told the man as he turned back toward me, "I don't know what's in the 'bag' you're talking about, but you can save it. I'm not in the market ... for any price. I only came here today because ...."

"Rod," he interrupted, "there's a bar downstairs at the street corner. Can I buy you a drink? No catches, no gimmicks. I'd just like to talk."

Once again, I was caught completely off guard by his friendly attitude. I hesitated, uncertain. Cathy came back into the room and handed him a small green velvet cloth bag, which he put into his pocket. "My dear, we're going down for a drink. I should be back in about an hour. I'll call you if I'm going to be later." And he stepped closer to her, took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. She seemed shocked, and her hands went instinctively to his upper arms, hesitated, then snaked up and around his neck. Slowly, her knees buckled, and her body hung limply in his embrace. Finally, he hoisted her upright and she struggled to get her feet back under her. She was breathing hard. "I'll see you in about an hour. Don't hold dinner," he told her.

"Yes, Reggie," she panted.

And he held out his arm as an indication that I should precede him to the front door. I was almost out of the apartment before I realized that I was still holding the book. Apologetically, I handed it to him, and he barked a laugh and tossed it unceremoniously on a table in the foyer. "I guess you have a lot of questions about our little 'family business,'" he said, leading the way out and down toward the neighborhood bar and grill. "I'll tell you all about it. Have you eaten yet?"