Hypnotherapist Ch. 12

Dear Readers,

I hope you are still enjoying these. Thanks again to my amazing editors, Bry1977 and thegoofyproofyreader, for helping me fix so many issues and mistakes before you all have to suffer through them. I know I have been a little slow with the last few chapters I've put out, but I hope to be past that and back to my better schedule.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

~NaughtyPaladin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 12

Wednesday morning started off with a maintenance visit with Travis Scott. His appointment was right at 8:00 am, and I admit, I slept in longer than I intended, consoling my snooze button every time the alarm went off and had to rush to be at the office on time. Luckily, Travis was cool about it. With my trigger phrase I had him under almost instantly, reinforcing my work with his pain. He always took a lot of effort, because I had a lot of legitimate work to do with him.

I only had a few minutes at the end to try and work with him on my marketing program, but Travis was still not getting out and social. Turns out, even with the pain reduced to a manageable level and giving him the ability to set it aside, he knew it was there and it really made leaving home an unappealing situation.

As he left, I flopped back in my chair. Damn, I was tired. Admittedly, there had been a lot of sex to offset it a bit, but starting any sort of business was a stressful thing too. When you are messing with the law, that only makes it worse. And yes, having sexual relations with your clients in any medical client/provider relationship is illegal, and the fact that I was hypnotizing my clients in a therapy providing environment just made it that much worse. I had to be careful. The cops had already shown up once, too much attention from them and it would make getting new clients very difficult.

I checked my schedule before calling in Desiree. I had an empty hour, then Robin Edwards had her second appointment. She was the married hottie that I desperately wanted to get in her panties, but she'd snapped out of the hypnosis the moment I had moved toward getting her to spread her legs. Depression was her reason for coming in, and I'd see how my work last time had worked for her.

I figured I could wait to get my first fuck of the day until after Robin, or if I was lucky, it would be Robin.

That left me time to stew. My mind returned again to being investigated. I had managed to get Deputy Hunter and Deputy Woods under my control, but the recordings still existed and I needed to figure out how to get Deputy Hunter to take care of that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Washington D.C.

Charles Adakai finished his morning cup of coffee and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Another late night stakeout, and another nothing last night.

He scanned his thumb, swiped his badge and put in his password to open his computer. As one of the newer members of the team of FBI investigators on the Mind Control Investigations team, he'd been assigned to fucking hypnosis investigations.

He'd been so stoked when he'd been offered the position. He was at least twenty non-disclosure clauses into his career at the FBI and he knew that agents that tried to open their mouths had a tendency to have early funerals. He didn't know who was on that cleanup team, but that was crazy. The FBI and CIA both had mind control divisions. Some were looking at using clandestine tech that could affect or even directly control minds from a distance, others were trying to keep that kind of tech from popping up among the civilian population, and others were running information and damage control.

Learning that mind control was not only a thing, but was common enough that a lot of countries had it and various countermeasures, to keep their leaders from being taken over, had been mind blowing. It was a conspiracy theory! Something tinfoil hat wearing kooks on the internet raved about when they found patents that indicated something like that was possible. Now, Charles knew that not only was it possible, but those patents were actually old shit, and were being released with the dates adjusted and the documents doctored to make it look like we weren't nearly as advanced as we were. We were well past the point of vehicle sized devices with massive dishes on the top to try and minorly adjust moods. Luckily for most of his coworkers, the long range techniques everyone had were easily jammed.

"Another one for you." Janet from Intel called, dropping a file on his desk.

Charles sighed, taking the folder and flipping it open. Another report from a police department or sheriff's office. Anytime anything came up could be a case for us, it automatically came our way. Why did they still pass around printed documents? Because they investigated masters who manipulated people, made cults and tried to take over mass areas. If an agent was compromised, digital assets could be doctored. Physical assets were much harder to change to seem innocent. Destroyed? Yes, but altered, that was harder. And if records went missing, there were backup teams and systems to the backup teams and systems to make sure nothing went sideways.

"Middle of nowhere Texas, huh?" He noted. A tiny new hypnotherapy practice, hardly worth the investigation. This Mr. Kent wasn't even in a city big enough to have an impact. Charles pulled up the map. Now... THAT could be a problem. He was only about a thirty to forty-five minutes drive from a university. If he was in fact starting some sort of cult or trying to begin some diabolical plot to take over the country, getting his claws into an institution of higher learning, that was where he could cause damage.

Okay, so what evidence do we have? Charles wondered. Hypnotherapy was a legitimate practice. You couldn't assume every hypnotist was trying to take over the world. Dispatching a capture team or a sniper to eliminate a US citizen that was trying their hand at tyranny was not something Charles took lightly.

He glanced over at the pictures of his family on the reservation. His Navajo parents had long taught him how the government was not something that could be blindly trusted, and now that he was a part of that monster, he was determined to be better. But that didn't mean he could afford to let a madman run free causing mayhem.

"Let's see what our new friend is up to." Charles murmured, pulling up his normal assets. At least today shouldn't be too boring. He just hoped it wasn't too exciting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robin came in on time. She wore a modest calf-length black skirt and a red blouse with a draping neckline that just did it for me. If I didn't get to have her, I'd be absolutely wrecking Desiree in frustration. Young, gorgeous, and sexy, a little small in the bust, but that was fine by me. She was married, and she'd said during our last visit that intimacy with her husband was 'doing fine' so there was no way I'd be breaking her pussy in, but again, I was okay with that. Liz hadn't been a virgin for me, and while I had enjoyed every virgin I'd gotten to break in, it was also great just smashing any tight pussy I could get to.

"How has this last week been?" I asked as she sat down and smoothed her skirts.

"It has been better." She told me. "Like you said, you didn't make the depression just... go away, but it has been better."

That was a good sign. Depression was chemically an imbalance in your brain, but that seemed to be mitigatable, at least in part, with hypnosis by helping the subject to focus on good things and things that made their life better, instead of the things that just made them spiral in depression.

"Now, tell me what you remember from our last session." I started, holding my notepad to look more professional. I already had digital notes, and I doubted she would have anything really new to add.

"Well, I remember we talked about my reason for coming in, the depression, and the parts of my life it makes harder." She began, hands held in front of her as she looked up at the ceiling in concentration. "Then we talked about my life in general. How I feel about my marriage to Nathan. How I feel about being a homemaker. If there was anything that I could see that was really causing the depression. I told you about how the just... boring repetition was killing me. It's like I am just LIVING for chores."

I nodded sagely and scratched my mechanical pencil on the page with no lead out. I needed her to feel like I took her seriously, but... Come on. Her husband had a good job, they were making ends meet easily with enough leftover to build up for savings and retirement. For a family that had only been married just over two years, that was a dream. She would never want for anything. She could have kids, as many as she wanted, so long as it was a reasonable number, and have no worries. Her complaints were that as soon as the laundry was done, there was more laundry. As soon as the dishes were done, there were more dishes. She had roombas that cleaned the floors for her, and she was easily able to do everything. It just seemed like she'd rather spend all day on her hobbies.

It wasn't even that her husband didn't support her hobbies. He did. She had a nice road bike for long distance biking, which she loved. She was a member of a tennis club, and played multiple times a week. She even was able to go swimming and diving at some of the local pools. These were sports she had enjoyed since high school. On top of that she painted, and had an entire room in their home devoted to her art. She and her husband went on regular dates, going to dinner, movies, plays and more, and she was happy in her marriage. She was the prime example of 'enough is never enough.' The minor inconvenience of taking care of her house just hit those buttons in her brain and made her depressed.

Okay, it could be a chemical imbalance thing, but more and more cases were turning out to be less chemical, and more mental/emotional, and the ease of prescribing medicines instead of actually fixing the thinking was making it worse. Not a doctor, just a hypnotherapist, but I was starting to believe 90% of the depression diagnoses were bullshit.

A few sessions and I hoped to have her happy and living her best life again...

... and riding my cock at every given opportunity.

I was far more concerned with getting her panties down round her ankles and her legs spread than cheering her up, as that might actually be the harder task. You see, if you study psychology, REAL psychology without agendas and politics, you'd know that, while not universal, each sex had certain biologically inborn desires, and the desire to have sex was one of the big ones. Men wanted to have sex with as many women as possible to spread their genes and women wanted a high value partner they could lock down to have babies with, but those were, more or less, preferences. Modern women were brainwashed almost from birth nowadays that staying a virgin until your wedding night meant you were a prude and lame. So I hadn't been surprised with the number of women that only required some hypnotic nudges to get rid of their inhibitions and boom, I was fucking them. I was actually curious, with the number of historical sordid stories, if there was ever a time in earth's history when most women weren't total sluts. I doubted it.

But here, smiling sweetly and willingly putting herself in my power, was an actually virtuous woman! It was like she was challenging me to break her, but not get caught, not even let her realize what I was doing. Last time, she had almost violently exited trance at the slightest implication that I could have something in common with her husband, so I'd have to be more clever. I just hoped that it didn't require too much patience.

"Alright, everything seems in order, so I'm going to put you under." I told her.

She nodded and looked at me expectantly.

"Sleep, Robin, Sleep."

She went limp on the couch, falling back and her arms and legs falling wide, just a touch. Damn, I wanted her so bad. If I wasn't 100% sure she'd wake up and ruin everything, I'd take her just like that.

"I'm going to count backwards from ten." I began. I wasn't sure how deep in trance she was, and I wanted her at optimal depth. After a certain point, pushing deeper really didn't accomplish anything, but not being deep enough could hamper things. I had an idea. "As you hear each number, you will feel your relaxation and ease double. Your confidence in me will double as well. I will touch your knee and move your leg, so you can feel how relaxed you are. By the time I count to five, you will be so relaxed you won't even feel my hand on your knee. And when I reach ten you will be so relaxed it will be as if you are in a world of your own. All that will reach you is the sound of my voice."

She was still smiling, so apparently touching her knee was not too far.

"Ten."

I reached out and put a hand on the smooth, silky skin of her knee. I gently moved it back and forth, and Robin offered no resistance.

"Nine."

I slowly started working her legs wider and wider apart with my gentle rocking motion. I badly wanted to just throw her legs wide open and dive in to taste that pussy, but didn't dare. Odds were touching her too close to, let alone in, her sexual regions would break her out of her trance, even once she was fully under, but it was looking like I was definitely at least gonna be seeing panties.

"Eight."

That leg was now spread as wide to that side as the couch, so I released it and gently took her other knee, weaving it back and forth, a little wider each time.

"Seven."

"Six."

Her legs were now fully splayed. Her skirt was loose enough that instead of getting hiked up, it draped, keeping my prize from view.

"Five."

She should be at full depths of trance now, the rest was just for insurance. I reached over, grabbed the hem of her skirt and flipped it up on her stomach. And there they were, Robin's panties. I couldn't decide if I was disappointed they weren't some sexy little thing that would let me peek at her sex, or if I was turned on at the innocence of the plain white cotton panties. They were thin enough I could tell she didn't shave, or at least, didn't shave everything. I was definitely disappointed they weren't wet. It was always nice when your woman was turned on before you had to go through the effort, but hey, I wasn't even sure I'd get to explore her cave of wonders today.

"Four."

"Three."

I thought about taking pictures of her in a more exposed state then she usually accepted, blackmail might not be beneath me, but on the other hand that would be evidence. Desiree and a few others were sending me pictures of themselves regularly, but a person willingly sending nudes is one thing, taking compromising pictures of a person, as their therapist, is another.

"Two."

"One."

Okay, she should be fucking twice as deep in the trance as she needed to be, maybe more depending on how well her initial drop was, but now was time to get to work.

"How do you feel?" I asked her.

"Floaty..." was her breathy reply.

Fuck. That voice was gonna be a problem. Damn, I wanted that voice moaning my name as I plowed her.

NOT YET, CLARK! I scolded myself. You aren't God, you aren't Jesus, you can't just do whatever you want, and if she wakes up screaming with your dick in her pussy you are 100% going to jail.

"How did you find doing your chores this week?" I asked.

"They still... take too long... too boring..." she replied, an almost sleepiness to her tone.

How to make her chores less boring... and reduce the time... oh, duh.

"This week, as you do your chores, you will time yourself." I suggested. "Only the parts that require your attention, and you actively do yourself, will you time. Not how long the washing machine, or the dishwasher, takes, but how long it takes you to load the dishwasher, or fold the laundry. You will start to set a baseline for yourself. Realizing how little time each task takes. Each task, once broken down in this way, will seem to take nearly no time at all. You will start looking for ways to cut that time down further, like decreasing your lap time at the pool or the time it takes you to ride your normal loop. You will see improvements and chances for improvement instead of monotonous chores."

I hoped that would work.

"As you succeed, which you have no doubt you will... you will feel more successful..." I swallowed, here came a risk. "... and attractive."

I waited for a moment. Watching for any reaction.

She just smiled.

I smiled in turn.

"What makes you feel attractive?" I prodded.

If she woke up here, and remembered anything, which she shouldn't, it could be excused as an innocent question, seeking to find ways to motivate and reward her, helping her overcome her depression.

"I like... the way Nathan looks at me." She began. "He makes me feel attractive."

That didn't help. I already knew I couldn't just jump to something like 'Mr. Clark looking at you will make you feel the same way,' as a similar tactic had failed so miserably last week.

"What do you do for your husband to make him look at you that way?" I pressed.

"I cook. I clean. I take care of the house. I rub his shoulders when he gets home. I dress up for him." She smiled thinking of whatever lucky bastard had snatched her up.

"What do you wear to dress up for him?" I pressed.

"He likes me to wear skirts. And blouses that show my cleavage." She admitted. I waited for a second, hoping, and my patience was rewarded. "And sometimes I wear the underwear he likes."

SCORE! Okay, maybe I could work with this... just how to do it. Let's start a little safer.

"You are wearing a skirt now, are you wearing the other things your husband likes?" I led.

Her draping neckline was nice, but cleavage displaying? Not really.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't like wearing them in public." She answered.

I scrunched my lips to one side in thought. I'd been rewarded for taking a risk before... Maybe I could take the risk again?

"Are you in public now?" I asked.

She didn't answer.

"Do you know if you are in public now?" I re-tried.

"No."

"This is a private office. Nothing that happens here is public." I cautiously asserted.

She said nothing.

"Are you in public?" I repeated.

"No." She answered this time confidently.

Okay. We were moving somewhere, and there was still plenty of time in the session. Maybe a gamble here.

"When you are in private, do you like to dress to impress your husband?" I fished.

"Yes."

"Would you say the underwear you are wearing right now, would impress your husband?" I set up.

"No."

"Would you say your husband would rather you wear the underwear you are wearing right now, or not wear any underwear at all?" I gambled.

"He'd rather me not wear underwear." She agreed.

So far so good.

"When you are in private, you should always wear either underwear your husband would be impressed by, or no underwear at all." I held my breath, waiting for her to break out.

She almost nodded.

"When you are traveling from one private place to another, you won't need to worry, no one sees you while you are traveling." I assured her.

Again, nothing to indicate resistance.

I tapped my chin. Now, for a little security and another risk.

"From now on, when you hear Mr. Clark say 'Sleep, Robin, Sleep' you will enter a trance twice as deep and twice as peaceful as this trance, or the trance before, whichever was more peaceful." I began. "When you come out of this trance, you will realize that you need to use the restroom, which is totally fine and normal. While using the restroom, you will realize you are in private and should dress accordingly before returning to continue our session."