Hypnothe-Rapist: Starr Scores Ch. 07

"Sure."

"Tops. All that being said, one more thing: while highly effective, the procedure is not for everyone—it borders on the line of intimacy for some. While the patients are under, I probe into their subconsciouses and communicate with them this way. And there's some physical contact involved as well, in the form of monitoring the pulse and heartbeat, and a soothing fingertip massage to help lull them down to sleep. Are you okay with that?"

Sean actually felt he would be much more than okay with this; it sounded like quite a nice form of affection to him. But he told himself not to get overzealous about it. "Sure," he nodded matter-of-factly.

"Okay then. Next thing I'll tell you is, cures very rarely present themselves in one session. And this is just the way it is. It's possible you could be cured right away—it has happened before—but very seldom, and I can't guarantee it, so you oughtn't expect it. I'll likely need to treat you in the span of at least three to four sessions, but I don't think anywhere upwards of ten will be necessary. At the same time, however, Sean, I'll need you to work with me on your end, and do the homework I give you. Sound like a plan?"

"Sure," he repeated.

"Terrific. I let the patients know these things upfront, because besides just being formalities, this process is anything but to be taken lightly. It's expensive, and it's thorough, but Sean, my friend, I promise you, it is worth it.

"Okay, so! All this in mind, do you definitely want to undergo the hypnosis? For both professional and personal reasons, I need total affirmation before I will allow myself to do this."

Another shrug. "Sure," he reiterated. "Let's go for it."

"Excellent."

She was all grins, he noticed, as he watched her turn to the wall to unplug the phone on her desk. It seemed the news that he was ready to proceed gave her a bit of a thrill.

"Okay, Sean, please stand up for me, I'll take your shoes for you and unfold the sofa bed," Angie offered. "Can I get you a set of jammies from the closet here? I've got a bunch of different styles and patterns. One size fits all."

Heck, he'd gone along this far. "I guess so."

"Would you like me to launder your clothes for you?"

"What?"

"Well, there's a washer-dryer combo back here. It's built into the bathroom. And I like to throw that in just as an additional service and privilege, free of charge. Just a nice little bonus for my patients. No shrink, no fade. Up to you."

Wow...this lady wants so much to help. What a sweetie.

He chuckled. "Okay, why the heck not."

"Yay!" said Angie. "Okay, you can go ahead into the bathroom there and change. And I'll unfold the sofa bed, so when you're done, you can give me your clothes and lay down."

***

January 16th, 4:42 p.m.

The phone was off. The lights were out. The door was locked, "SESSION IN PROGRESS, PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB" slate in plain view. The laptop was in hibernation. The washer was running. The doctor's hair was scrunchie'd back. The patient was lying in the left side of the sofa bed, wearing the pajamas and sleep mask. The doctor was beside, on her trusty-dusty kneeling pillow, stethoscope at the ready. It was time.

Here we go again! Angie thought enthusiastically. The excitement never wore off.

"Okay, Sean...can you hear me? You don't have to say anything, just nod for yes."

He nodded.

"Good. Now what I'm gonna have you do is just power down your entire system. Unclench, and relax everything for me. Just let it go...just let it all, wash, away. Leave your worries at the door. And we're going to take you to a good place..."

Sean took a deep breath and did as she asked, best he could. So far, he was finding this very soothing.

"Now, Sean, once your mind is clear, I'd like you to try to create a mental oasis for yourself, where everything is tranquil, calm and still. Where things are, and will always be at eternal peace. Take yourself there on my wings, Sean. I'll fly you. Let me remind you, there's nothing to worry about; you're completely secure, and under my protection. I'm going to take care of you."

He was really, really liking this doctor lady.

"Very good, Sean...very, very good. Do you feel you are in your safe, happy place?"

He waited a moment, then nodded again.

"Wonderful. Now I'm just going to take your wrist to get your pulse, and find your ticker..."

She did so, and placed the stethoscope on his chest, locating his heartbeat.

"There we are. Now, Sean, next I'm going to have you take some deep breaths for me, okay? I'm going to count to eight, and I want you to breathe in through your nose. Ready? One...two...three...four...five...six...seven, and...eight—good. And now out for me, through your mouth, again for eight. Ready?..."

She had him go through and repeat the breathing ritual as usual, until his heart, pulse and system inevitably retarded down to the point where she could gently bring him under her spell. She smiled beatifically down at him and continued.

"That's my lad, Sean," encouraged Angie, taking off the stethoscope and laying her fingertips to rest, gliding as lightly and gingerly as humanly possible down his face, his neck, his arms. "You're doing so fantastically. Keep up the breathing, just the way you are, nice and deep, and don't worry about a thing—we're going to take you into your trance. Remember, you're just fine. You're under my shield. You're in your happy place, and I'm looking after you. Nothing can harm you. Nothing.

"I am now going to count down from ten...and after I reach one, I will silently snap my fingers, and you'll be under. Just keep breathing, Sean...everything'll be just fine...

"Okay, and...ten..."

Thirty seconds later, Angie waved her hand over him in a circle, soundlessly snapped and Sean Ryan McManus was out like a light.

"Brilliant," she whispered, barely audibly. "Sean, you are now completely unconscious. You'll do as I decree. You must listen to me. Listen...to the doctor. Remember...she's your friend. I am communicating with you via your subconscious. I am also holding on to your hand to keep your psyche accustomed to my touch. We'll use this contact as a conduit to bridge your reception with my transmission. For instance, if you can hear and understand me, Sean, please flex your carpals to give my hand a little squeeze."

Predictably, it worked. Sean curled his fingers around Angie's and applied a tiny bit of pressure, and that familiar tingle of heaven swirled through Angela's body, tickling her inside and out. She gave her little shiver of pleasure.

"Ex-cel-lent..." she praised, like so many times before. "BEAUtiful work.

"Subconscious, this is where you will come into play," she murmured. "Sean's lack of confidence and self-esteem has kept him fast in his abusive marriage, in order to alleviate his fear of being alone, a fear which was and is greater than his courage and his will to divorce his wife of his own volition. As his situation presently stands, Subconscious, Sean would rather be in a bad relationship—being beaten, struck or yelled at, perhaps even on a daily basis—than live in solitude.

"I am now going to give you a two-step assignment to carry out, Subconscious. I will need you to conduct a couple of mental searches on Sean's memory files. The first search I want you to do is to yield positive results. Find anything and everything you can in Sean's bank that documents events, situations and achievements of happiness, of pride, of love, of approval. It is for these we must look first, Subconscious, to resort them in Sean's mind so that they will be fresh in his memory. Recent events have drained him of self-confidence and esteem, so the first thing we must do is reinstill that confidence.

"Once you have done this, Subconscious, save that search, open a new search, and then look for all memory files to be found involving Sean's ex-wife. Do not delete them...do not place them in the recycling bin; her presence is still too recent to healthily lobotomize her from his mind. Keep the documentation you find on her, and do just the opposite: file it further back in Sean's memory. Not far enough back in the deepest reaches that he can only retrieve vague recollections of her, but...we'll say about halfway. Keep her memory semi-fresh, but this way the emotional sting of his divorce will dull and lessen on him.

"Please perform the positive affirmation filing first, Subconscious, and then the ex-wife filing. Do you understand your tasks?"

She lightly felt him close his fingers around hers once more. She shut her eyes and smiled.

"Yessss..." she murmured. "Very good. You must stick to task, Subconscious, and do only as I have instructed you. Do you copy?"

Another hand squeeze. Angie's heart fluttered. A few butterflies were let loose through her belly.

"Outstanding," she breathed, her system accelerating in anticipation, holding on to his hand. "Fantastic. Once more, Subconscious, I cannot emphasize this enough, no matter what you may think you detect, no matter what happens, you absolutely must commit to the assignments I have given you. Please continue doing just as I say."

This time she didn't have to ask if he comprehended her imperative requests. He squeezed her hand again automatically.

"Ohhhhh, my gosh..." she exhaled, as the first degree of pleasure swelled through her like a balloon. It was time to proceed.

Initiate phase two.

Now having drilled it sufficiently into her mind, Angie did not forget her trusty hump pillow nowadays, instead grabbing it from underneath her knees as she pedally pushed herself to standing position. She kept their hands stationarily together and placed the pillow at the foot of the bed, just beside Sean's feet. Now of course came one of her favorite parts of the entire procedure.

The bedsprings were oiled semi-regularly to reduce creaking and squeaking to nil. It was also good for Angela to keep her body in light, trim shape, as she crawled up on the mattress together with her gentlemen callers. The sofa bed could hold up to five hundred pounds, but Angie was no gambler. She'd always erred on the side of caution, and believed in the mantra of "better safe than sorry."

Her body warmed as the heat from Sean's own body wafted above to meet hers. She had encouraged Sean to take his slumber on the fold-out bed's left side, as she now did with all patients who underwent the procedure. And she wouldn't have objected should Sean or anyone else insist on sleeping on the right, but while on this, the left side, right-handed Angie could settle in with them, cuddle them and caress them with the hand which—she had to face it—knew what it was doing.

Fortunately for her, very few patients did not heed the left-sided advice. Most presumed the suggestion had to do with an angle of light from the window or some similar...but whatever the motive, they went with the proposition, willing to trust Angie as the healer of their ailments. And so they did pretty much everything she said.

Angela was practically purring like a kitten as she lowered herself to Sean's level on the bed, gently lifting the blanket to sidle herself under. She let go of Sean's hand and laid her right arm over his chest, petting his hair with her left hand. She kissed his ear.

"Don't worry about a thing, my friend," she cooed into it seductively. "It'll all be okay."

Leaning forward, she massaged his slightly stubbled face with her nose and lips, right hand fondling and caressing about, his shoulder, his arm, his neck. She laid her head down on his chest to listen for his heartbeat. Still slow and steady. He gave off no signs of alertness to her affectionate actions. She sent her lips wandering on a uniquely aimless pattern of more soft kisses, no two patterns, like patients, ever the same. She bridged the kisses with tender words of encouragement.

Kiss. "...That's it, hon..." Kiss. "...Just relax..." Kiss. "...Let it all go..." Kiss. "...Just let me take care of you..."

And then, while occupying the senses of his upper body with her sweet nothings and her lip love...Angie slipped her leg over his...

...And ever so gingerly shuffled it her way, along the mattress, inch by inch, tug by tug, prying his legs wider apart.

"There we are, sweetheart..." she breathed. "Now, remember, listen to me...and do as I say..."

Time to set her right hand to task. It rerouted course from Sean's torso, just above his ribcage, and tippy-fingered directly south.

Thank goodness for loose p.j.s, thought Angie. She kissed his lips as her fingers limboed under the hem of his jammie bottoms.

Here we GO... she sang to herself. Starr...Treatment*...time!

By this point, the anticipation of fondling a velvety cock beneath slacks, pajamas, shorts, what had they, had begun to excite Angie as early as the actual hypnotherapy stage, when she was in the middle of giving the subconsciouses their jobs to carry out while she did what she needed to do. She had to be careful not to accidentally slip and let her libido deliver instructions instead of her brain.

She started breathing through her own nose, keeping her lips snugly fixed on Sean's as she stroked his penis back and forth under the pajamas, until it inevitably began to react. The arousal spread to Angie's hand, through her arm, and as usual, branched gradually off to begin turning on her other areas. The kiss was so beautiful and felt so good, it alone had made her heart beat faster, which wasn't easy while also starting to melt like wax. But now the stimulation triggered by his hardening dick was coursing her veins at a rapid rate, soon to overtake the merely pleasant kissing sensations and kick everything up a peg.

Sean's cock grew and grew in Angie's enthusiastic hand until she could wrap her fingers around it like the joystick that it was. It wouldn't be containable much longer, so she subtly slid her left hand down the mattress to help, digging underneath and surreptitiously inching down the pajama pants from his waist. Down they crept, little by little...and finally...

...Out he jumped. The newest stiff, erect cock to be played with in Angela's palace of healing saw the light of day (or lack thereof in the dark room). Maintaining as much discretion as her zeal would allow, Angie shimmied herself further down the mattress until she could grab the blanket, toss it out of the way and artfully scamper between Sean's legs, where her reliable pillow waited.

Here it was, she thought, once again. She couldn't imagine the anxious fun of the Starr Treatment* ever wearing off in her lifetime. Making certain she'd yanked his jammie pants down far enough that his balls could be out to play too, Angie sat up on her knees, stuffed the pillow up under her nightgown, right between her legs, where it belonged, leaned down closer while keeping the pillow in position, and took the first good look at what she was dealing with here.

My gosh, it's gorgeous, Angie thought, all but breathless. He was decently endowed. It stood seven and three-quarters inches at full erection in parenthetical curving slope, and would reach an even eight if manually straightened out upright. Its now crimson-tinted skin gave off a sleek, satiny texture, the flaccid sponginess stretched thin when stiff. The head, while also reddened from the blood inside, was a solid, smooth pink knob which looked literally just about good enough to eat. His balls weren't too bad themselves, especially for those belonging to a 37-year-old man. They weren't too saggy; gravity appeared to have not taken a great toll on them. They simply hung neatly together at the base in their pouch. Angie figured he probably wore briefs, although she had just tossed everything of his together into the washer; she hadn't exactly examined the garments in detail.

But never mind that; Angie marveled at his downright lovely setup. Not that she could tell so effectively in the dark, but she found virtually no imperfections, no discoloration, nothing. It was remarkable; this man seemed to have...

...The perfect package.

Good Heavens! By God, Sean, if it didn't go against everything I stand for in the formality of our relationship, I'd marry you! Oh my good Lord...well, what the hell am I waiting for??

Down she went. She wondered if it were too much to hope that he also taste good. Smoothing the balls between her tips and nails, Angie could barely even wait to apply her normal coating of saliva to all sides of his manhood before just swallowing it whole. To her astonished delight, it even tasted sweet and lovely. Her mind was blown. Where had this man been her whole career? Her whole life?

Needless to say, when she finally tongue-lubed it all around and deep-throated as much of it as she could handle, her heart went insane. It pounded wildly through her chest wall, dripping the aforementioned melting cardial wax. Her tummy became a meadow where not one, not a few, but hundreds of giddy butterflies took to dizzy flight. Her libido and hormones were on fire. Her breasts extended their own eyes, trying to get a peek. They wanted to be tit-loved by this colossus of a phallus.

But the next thing that happened, Angie could have felt and even heard coming a mile away.

Hee-hee-hee-hee-HEEEEEE...

Angie shook her head as much as she could.

DON'T, EVEN, THINK, ABOUT IT.

"Uh-uh," she vocally gurgled down at Little Angie.

Didn't our mother ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?

Shut up and listen good to me: you're humping that pillow, you're getting my vibrator, and that's it, and that's all, from now on.

Oh, is that so?

Darned right that's so!

Hmm...now, I seem to remember you being taught something of a lesson about that back in November...

You're pitiful. Like I've been telling and proving to you since then, that was November. This is now. It's a new year. New leaf. You got away with it once, two months ago, but I've overridden your will dozens of times since. Don't even try. Give up.

Who says I'm trying anything?...

What are you talking about? You're always "trying" something; it's your job. What are you trying to do, confuse me?

Oh, like I'd even have to try if I wanted to do that.

Angie smushed the pillow further up between her legs.

I'm tired of you. We are back to our old arrangement, permanently, and that's that. Mouth gets the cock, you get the toy.

If you say so...

I do say so. For the zillionth and final time, I'm in charge here.

If you say so...

And another thing: you can't bluff worth a fig either. And that's why we don't play poker.