Hypnothe-Rapist: Starr Scores Ch. 05

Oh my God...

...WHAT HAVE I DONE??

He was still asleep, but Angie was little consoled. She silently smacked her lips, tasting any leftover remnants of his come. The last of the salty, gooey treat went down her throat like guilt over what she had in fact just done.

She had just orally raped her patient.

Now sober from the dizzying effects of her fellatio, masturbation and blazing orgasm, she covered her face in shame, unable to comprehend what she had just allowed to happen. Suddenly she could hear everything her brain had been shouting at her earlier.

She needed a few minutes to process this. She slowly pushed herself to her feet off the bed, and fell on her knees on the floor.

"Oohf!" she exclaimed, trying to remain quiet. She had not factored in the drain of energy from her legs in the whole escapade. She whipped her head in panic back to where Carl lay again. He was still sound asleep.

Angie exhaled, closing her eyes in remorse. Okay, so the good news, she supposed, was that she knew he'd indeed stay asleep until she was ready to wake him up. She wondered what time it was. She looked back in the direction of the desk, where the clock was turned away, the laptop screen had faded to black and the phone's bulbs were inactively steady.

A terrifying thought shook her entire world. Holy smoke...what if the phone had rung?

Thank God Lucy had not allowed it to do so. Even still, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to take an extra precaution from now on, and just unplug it instead. She didn't have the energy right now. She rubbed her reddened eyes and crawled on all fours into the restroom.

***

February 29th, 11:32 a.m.

So perhaps the planets and stars had aligned in such a way on this Leap Year Day to cosmically commandeer Angie's senses into such an inappropriate, unorthodox act. She shook and whimpered as she sat on the toilet in thought. She had taken off her sticky panties, but then realized she didn't have a spare pair to change into.

Her mind had been right. She could get into an incredible amount of trouble for such behavior. Professional hypnotherapists didn't do this kind of thing. What on Earth had gotten into her??

She'd have to figure all this out later. She still had a sleeping patient in there, whom she'd have to wake up eventually. When she felt sufficient stamina replenish in her weak legs, she stood, staggered out to the sink, splashed some cold water on her face, rinsed out her mouth and finger-combed her hair, plucking the sweat-pasted strands from her forehead.

The cold water felt nice, and did enable her to calm down a little and think rationally. She began compiling a mental to-do checklist, at the top of which she was inclined to chisel, DO NOT TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE PATIENTS!! But she was already set with this determination before this day began, and in fact before her entire career was underway. It did not take a genius to discern the bylines of proper office etiquette and ethics with her clients. Something had been jarred loose within her, and like it or not, she had to face the conclusion that she might not be as stable as she thought. As frightening a concept as it was, she honestly didn't know if she could guarantee herself she wouldn't do this again. The urge had been irresistible.

Besides which, she again reasoned with herself, small comfort though this was, she still didn't know how he would feel when he woke up—i.e., if her fellatio had contributed to an improved quality of his life and state of mind.

Nevertheless, she put the disturbing train of thought on hold. She felt sweaty, thirsty and underdressed, and her breath smelled funny, as she mentally listed her remaining beneficial tasks—some of which she'd been meaning to take care of for a while, others that had just very recently come to mind:

Unplug phone before hypnosis begins...maybe get a "Do not disturb" sign to put on the door too.

Bring extra panties...and entire change of clothes, for that matter, just to be safe. In fact, just stock the bathroom closet.

Have air conditioner installed.

Provide healthy supply of water—not tap—or have water dispenser installed.

Buy mints...or Lifesavers...and also hygienic cleaning wipes...and maybe some lotion.

Stock office closet with loose-fitting pajamas.

Maybe get a washer-dryer combo in here if we can swing it...

Actually, thinking about it, she could probably also just wear her own pajamas herself. It would be more comfortable, and...yes, actually, it would also help the patients, by initially setting them in a somnolent state of mind. What a wonderful idea, she thought as a smile passed over her face. My jammies are so much comfier than my regular clothes. She added it to her checklist.

Carefully making her way back out into the office from the washroom, Angie shielded her eyes and turned the lights back on. When her eyes adjusted, she shuffled to the window and opened the blinds. Finally, she returned to Carl.

Oh, God! she gasped. I forgot to put his dick away!

It could use a little wiping off, she thought as well. Luckily, she had a few tissues left over in one of the desk drawers. As she again took it in her hand to wipe it off, she felt the knot of guilt in her belly tighten. But when she was finished, she disposed of the tissues, tucked his penis back into his pants and brought them back up around his waist, starting to refasten them before remembering—

Oh yeah...they were already unfastened.

His shirt, however, was not. She buttoned it back up, went over everything in her mind again, and decided she could finally bring him back to consciousness.

She took his hand again and whispered into his ear, "Carl, your hypnosis treatment is finished. I will now bring you out of your trance." She counted back up to ten from zero and waved her magic "wand" over his head.

When he woke, he wasn't certain where he was. A normal enough reaction. She took the sleeping mask from him, urged him to sit up and reminded him where he was. After a few moments of blinking, he remembered. "Oh yeah," he said faintly.

"How, uh...how do you feel?" Angie asked, nervously but nurturingly.

"I...eh..." He opened his eyes wide, then shut them, rubbing them with his fists. "I feel, uh...little wonky."

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that," she told him sincerely. "That will pass. Can you tell me if you feel sad at all?"

He removed his hands from his eyes. They darted back and forth as he thought. When he tried to locate some sadness and nothing immediately surfaced, he told her so, putting an elated smile on her face.

This smile radiated relief as well as joy. Angela had been so hoping for a positive response, in order to alleviate her guilt, at least to the point of acceptance, rationalizing that she had partially healed him with this line-blurring treatment.

Perhaps there was justification after all...

"Oh, Carl, that makes me so happy," she gushed to him, patting his hand, almost feeling tears.

"Wow, I'm...I'm not cured already, am I?" he asked in amazement.

"Oh, no, no, Carl, I would not say so," she answered. "Admittedly, we can't say for completely sure, and anything's possible, but more than likely, we'll need to do a little more work. In the meantime, I'll give you a little 'homework assignment,' so to speak, and you can come back to see me again in a week if you like, or two weeks, whichever works better for you."

"That sounds great," he said, looking up at her with a visible gleam in his expression which was absent upon arrival. "My gosh, what'd you do when you hypnotized me?" he asked with a chuckle.

For just a second Angie's heart jumped. But it was highly apparent he suspected nothing out of the ordinary. She again had him stand from the bed, not realizing that his legs too would be a bit sore. Clearly, she had some reading up to do if this kind of thing were to happen again. She folded the bed back into couch form and asked him to sit.

"Okay, Carl, very good work," she praised, hoping her cheeks weren't flushed. "Now for our next session, here's what I'd like you to do. You don't absolutely have to, but I think it would be helpful if you started writing down your feelings day to day, something in the manner of a journal, you know? Include whatever you'd like. What happened during your day, anything that might have made you feel happy, sad, whichever. Then perhaps you could bring the journal in to show me next time. How does that sound?"

He nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Terrific. The other suggestion I have has to do with your diet—and I know you told me you've been trying to refrain from having desserts and-or other fatty foods, and I think that's great. In keeping with that, first I would say watch your intake of sugar, which it sounds like you're already doing. But it doesn't mean you can't treat yourself. In lieu of sugar, you might try some sugar-free goodies now and then. Candy, gum, drinks, stuff like that—that're made with Splenda or aspartame instead. They do tend to have a similar effect to laxatives, though, so be careful," she added with her own little chuckle.

"Okay," he chortled back.

"And if you're consuming caffeine at all, I'd like you to limit that to at least eight hours or so before your normal bedtime," she continued, scribbling it on a blank piece of paper. "I'll write this down for you; I know it's a lot. In contrast to the sugar, I would recommend trying to increase your protein and vegetable intake...and finally, it might not hurt to shift your bedtime back a little bit, and perhaps this can help up your sleeping average. Especially since spring is coming." She looked up. "Deal?"

"Sure, you got it," he agreed without hesitation.

"Tops." She clicked the pen off, folded the paper, creased the fold, handed it to him and said, "Your prescription-slash-homework, sir...and when you go back out, you can make your next appointment with Miss Taylor if you like...oh! Or..."

She went to fetch him one of her solid beige-colored business cards.

"The girl with the English accent?" he confirmed.

Angie smiled. "Yes, that's right. Or, here you go. You can use this too, if you prefer. There's our business number, and my cell number's there as well. Cool?"

He chuckled again. "Very cool."

She stood. "Fantastic." She opened the door and held out her (freshly washed) hand for him. "Mr. Blankman."

He nodded, shaking it. "Dr. Starr...my friend."

Just before he let go, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, giving her a nice feeling inside. She let her eyes close with a professional yet coy little smile.

"Goodbye, my friend. Have a wonderful week...or two," she waved.

When he exited her line of sight, Angela turned back around, let her breath out and dreamily dropped herself back into her chair with a plonk. She was going to need some time to put her thoughts in order. Fortunately, for right now, Lucy hadn't informed her of any more patients on today's schedule. Not that she wouldn't have treated them, but she could use a particularly light day today.

She reopened Carl's folder which served as his hard file. She clicked the pen again and narrated to herself as she wrote down, "Depression, symptoms miscellaneous, hypnosis one, improvement apparent, update soon."

Finally, she let the pen drop, closed her eyes for what felt like an hour, returned to her laptop and went online.

***

Seven months later

October 3rd, 6:34 p.m.

"Dr. Starr," said Lucy, "Everything is confirmed for tomorrow."

"Thanks so much, Lucy," Angie said, very grateful for Lucy's presence, but sad to see her go. It was Thursday, and tomorrow would be their last day together. She had been scooped up into a cushy, high-paying office job in a big corporation called SunComp, and so Angie'd put out an ad for a permanent receptionist several days ago when Lucy had given her notice. She was going to miss Angie too, but she didn't think she could turn down this opportunity.

"May I head off now, please, Doctor?" she requested. "My boyfriend wants to take me to the movies."

"Aw, how nice!" smiled Angie. "Absolutely! Go, go, have a great time."

"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed Lucy, grabbing her belongings. "See you tomorrow!"

She was gone in sixty seconds. Wow, thought Angie, She must be really eager to get to that theater. The girl was a wonderful receptionist, and deep down Angie really wished she wasn't losing her, but also, she conceded, Lucy Taylor still practically had her whole life ahead of her. She was only 19. She was just a kid. And Angie did want the best for her, so if she decided this new job was the right move in her life right now, then Angie was happy for her. The timing was a little unfortunate, but she couldn't tell Lucy that and make her feel guilty for leaving. It was her choice, and she had to do what she had to do.

But would Angela Starr still be able to—

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the phone ring. She stepped into the receptionist area and picked it up.

"Dr. Angela Starr."

"Hello there!" said the voice on the other line. "I'm calling about the ad you've got out; you're looking for a receptionist?"

"That I am!" said Angie, pleasantly surprised at the coincidence. "Yes indeed! Looking to apply?"

They scheduled an appointment. The following day being a busy one for Angie, they went with Saturday, the day after instead.

"Okay, great; I've got you down here for Saturday, the 5th, at 10:00 a.m. Please do be punctual! Oh, and your name, s'il vou plaît?

"...Paula Saunders. All right, excellent. See you Saturday, Paula."