Hypnotizing the Babysitter Ch. 01

"No, sir. Not anymore. All I have to do now is just THINK about it, and I go out like a light." She studied my eyes, then lowered her gaze again, dejectedly. "If only you'd let me show you, sir. If only you'd try it, just once. If only... " She looked up again imploringly. "If only you'd let me help you!"

I smiled at her. "Sure, Dawn. How do you want to do this?"

She wiped a tear from her left cheek and studied me intently. "Really?"

I shrugged. "Why not? What have I got to lose?"

She leapt to her feet, glanced around quickly, and fled to the bathroom, where she turned on the light and closed the door until there was just a sliver of light streaming into the room. She hurriedly closed the bedroom door leading into the hall and snapped off the overhead light; and then finally, she clicked off the lamp at my bedside. "Lie back, sir" she ordered. "Lie down flat."

I grinned at her urgent persistence; then, careful not to let the covers creep down below my waist, I slid down and positioned myself on my back, my head on a pillow. Without a word, she held the dangling jewel above my face, and I was astounded as it shattered the white light from the bathroom into hundreds of dancing, colored fragments.

"Is that a diamond?" I asked.

"It's a crystal," she replied quietly. "Now, please, sir, no more talking. Just listen. Listen and relax for me." I nodded. "Please, sir. You must relax. Take a deep breath for me. That's it. And now, take another breath as you relax, more and more. Just look at the crystal and relax."

I mused that I probably WOULD fall asleep soon, but it had little to do with either the gem or her soothing mantra. I was very tired, having only gotten a couple hours rest the night before; and I had just resolved to turn out the light and try to sleep when she had knocked on my bedroom door. Still, if I allowed myself to drift off while she was doing this, it would probably make her feel better, believing that she had helped me.

"Relax," she whispered softly. "You should know what it feels like to fall asleep while you're watching the crystal, sir. This is what I feel like, every night when I imagine the crystal and relax. Relax. I get SO tired. So tired, just watching the crystal and relaxing. Do you feel that, sir? Feel tired while you relax?" I found myself nodding, though I hadn't meant to. "That's the way I feel," she continued. "SO tired, and SO relaxed. And now, you're probably noticing that you feel a little dizzy, watching the crystal spinning lazily. SO lazy and SO relaxed and SO tired."

I thought about explaining it to her. It was an inner ear thing, actually; watching lights spinning in a darkened room. Had something to do with fluid at rest in the Eustachian tubes while the eyes perceived motion. Hmmm. Probably too much information, I mused. I'd just enjoy the ride while the bed seemed to twist gently under me. I seemed to be floating.

I'm afraid I don't remember a whole lot for awhile after that. She kept muttering about relaxing and deep breaths and being tired and sleepy. At some point, I decided all on my own to close my eyes for awhile, but she seemed to believe that I was doing it because she suggested it. Good for her, I thought. She was trying so hard, and it would bolster her ego a little to think she was responsible for it. I decided to count, since I had nothing better to do. Each number helped me settle into the bed, to just let go for a bit and drift; and it seemed that all of my soothing thoughts and deep breaths and drifting consciousness was taking me lower, lower... down and down into a relaxation deeper than I had ever experienced.

"You will remember," she told me. "You want to be in charge; isn't that correct? You want to be in control. If you want that, then you can remember this."

I nodded at that. Yes, I WAS in control. It was her that was calling ME sir, after all. "Yes," I said distinctly.

"Then you will remember," she told me, affirming what I already knew. "And... you will have the power to return to this wonderful, deep, deep level of relaxation, whenever you wish. Simply lie in bed, just as you are doing now, and think of the crystal. Think of nothing else but the crystal and relax, and you can return here whenever you want. Isn't that so?"

"Yes," I answered again, knowing absolutely that it was the truth.

She paused for a long time while I floated, reveling in my control of the situation. Finally, hesitantly, she said: "Um... sir... you seem to be... I mean, are you...? Uh... " She took a long breath before she got the words out. "Are you... aroused, sir?"

I frowned at this. I could tell that I was hard, but I hadn't realized that she had been watching me. How could she have seen me? It was very dark. Did I have my eyes closed? Was this a dream? If so, was it an erotic dream?

"I should get up and take a cold shower," I told her resolutely. "That usually helps. I'm damned sorry that you saw me like this." I reached for the covers so I could get up and take a shower, but something seemed to be holding my wrists down.

"I think that you can't get up, sir," she said to me. "You must be asleep. Count to ten for me. If you are asleep, then with each number you count, you will find that your arms are too heavy to move... and that your body is too heavy to get up. Try that for me and see if I'm right."

I nodded and started counting. I was in charge here, no doubt. Still, I had to concede that she was right. When I finished, I couldn't move my arms, and my whole body seemed to be sunken into the mattress. "I can't get up," I told her morosely.

"Then you can't take a cold shower," she said matter-of-factly.

"No."

"Whatever will we do about it, sir?"

I sighed. "Please don't concern yourself. It happens a lot," I told her.

"What do you do about it when it happens?" she asked. "Do you... um... you know?"

"Take care of myself?" I frowned. That was really none of her business. And yet... she seemed be very concerned about me. That was sweet of her. "Sometimes I do," I admitted. "It's not... the same, though, if you know what I mean. I guess maybe I could." I tried to move my right hand to my groin, but it remained stuck at my side. I sighed. "Then again, I guess not."

"That's alright, sir. Please don't bother trying. I know that you can't move your hands or arms... and that your body is so relaxed and sunken deep into the mattress, so that you can't move at all, can you?"

"No."

I felt the covers being moved down over my erection. I gasped. SHE gasped. "Oh, sir! Oh, gosh, sir!"

I felt myself blushing. "I'm really sorry. My blanket must have slipped," I told her pleadingly.

"That... that's okay, s... sir," she faltered. "Please don't worry about it. It's not your fault. There was nothing you could do about it. You can't get out of bed... and you can't take a cold shower... and you can't touch yourself. I'LL just touch it a little bit." I felt fingers wrap around my shaft, and I moaned. "Gosh, sir," she continued, "you're really, really hard. And you're awfully big, sir. I didn't realize... " She squeezed gently and stroked her hand downward.

"AAAhhhh!" I exclaimed, arching my back.

"Does that feel good, sir?

"Aaahh! God, yes! Oh!"

She let go, and I groaned in disappointment. Then, her fingernails began playing with the sides of my straining shaft, scraping upward, back down. I arched my back again.

"Do you want me to keep going, sir?" she asked quietly.

"I... I want... that is, I think that if you do... Oh, God, Dawn!"

"You'll do what, sir? If I keep doing this, what will you do?"

"AAahh! I'll cum. I'm so sorry. It's been a really long time, you see. If you keep that up, I'm going to cum. Maybe you should stop!"

"Do you want me to stop, sir?" She cupped my balls, pulled them gently, scraped them playfully with her nails, and squeezed them again while grasping me around my cock with her other hand.

"Aaahh! No! No, please! Please don't stop!"

"If you cum, you're going to go to sleep, sir. Do you understand that? If you cum, you're going to go down and down and down into the deepest, most pleasant, restful sleep you've ever had. So deep, that you won't wake up until someone comes and tells you to wake up. You know that, don't you, sir? That is what is going to happen if you cum. And you won't be able to stop the sleep. Knowing that, do you still want me to make you cum, sir?" She began stroking me hard with one hand and kneading my testicles with the other.

"OH! YES! YES, Anything! Please!"

I erupted. Muscles clenched all along the sides of my stomach and my groin and my thighs and my cock and my balls. I have never, ever experienced such absolute, all-encompassing, blissful orgasmic release. It felt as if my cock was larger than it had ever been, and I was a little amazed that her fingers could reach around it. Just as I thought that it must certainly be over, I launched into another gasping, clutching, frantic, spouting explosion.

Dawn seemed just as amazed as I was. "OH!" she shrieked. "Oh, gosh, sir! There's so MUCH of it! Oh, my God! Here it comes again! Golly! It's getting EVERYWHERE!"

I wanted to apologize. I tried to tell her that I was sorry about the mess. I tried to tell her to please, just leave it until morning, and I'd take care of it. But suddenly, I found myself sinking, sinking... down and down and down... just like she'd said.

******************

MAY 23rd

I awoke with my daughter jumping atop me, gaily shouting "Wake up, Daddy! Wake up!" It would have been a wonderful, bright, happy morning... if it had been morning. With a sense of astonished horror, I realized that I had slept the clock around and it was now almost one in the afternoon. After banishing little Tina from the room, I leapt out of bed and pulled on some clothes. The events of the previous evening slowly came back to my increasingly restive mind, and I paused in my frenzy to minutely examine the bed. It showed absolutely no evidence of the bodily fluids I expected to find, nor were there signs of nocturnal emissions on my body. I had almost convinced myself that it was all a dream, when I suddenly remembered that the sheets on my bed were blue yesterday, and now they were green. The laundry room was on my way downstairs, and I interrupted the dryer's cycle by opening its door and peering inside. Blue sheets. So it HADN'T been a dream! Had it?

"Dawn!" I screamed, rushing into the kitchen.

She appeared immediately from the general direction of the play room. Tina was clinging to her left leg, and she'd been laughing. "Yes, sir?"

"Why did you let me sleep so long?" I shouted, gesturing frantically. "I had a conference call at 10:00!"

She looked conciliatory, but it was hard while she was attempting to free her leg from my daughter's grip. "Yes, sir. I know. It was on your calendar. I thought you needed some sleep, so I called Mrs. Confrees and told her that you were feeling bad and had to reschedule."

I stood, absolutely agog, staring at her. "You... you called Louisa Confrees? You called my department head? How do you even KNOW that name?"

She was shushing Tina, casting doubtful, nervous looks at me. "I figured it out from your computer. I found you in the company directory and then looked up the number of your DH. We rescheduled the teleconference for this afternoon at four. Nobody seemed to mind."

"You... My computer...? How...? That's impossible! My computer's secure!"

"Not very, sir," she said, looking at me the way a teacher looks at an errant schoolchild. "You left your code transponder sitting right next to it. And you should NEVER use your daughter's name as a password!"

"It's NOT her name!" I roared.

"A derivative of it, sir. Took me less than thirty seconds to figure it out."

I was REALLY about to let her have it, but my daughter began pounding on my legs with her tiny fists. "Don't yell at Dawn!" she screamed. She was crying.

Well, shit! I got down on one knee and took her in my arms, soothing her. I made a big show of calmly apologizing to Dawn. The babysitter, for her part, didn't look nearly as guilty as I thought she should have. "How do you feel, sir?" she asked, actually making eye contact.

I stood up, and for the first time since I'd sprung out of bed, I thought about that. I felt... I felt... GREAT! I actually felt rested and clear-headed! It had been MONTHS since I'd felt like this! I looked up at her in wonder, and she smiled brightly.

"Actually," I told her levelly, making sure my countenance was stern and condescending, "I'm hungry."

She KNEW, though. She beamed at me, and then she poured me a cup of coffee before cooking me eggs and toast.

This was to be a big day... an important day; and I was surprised that mousy, demure Dawn didn't show significant signs of stress. She was going to meet my wife. It was the Friday before the Memorial Day weekend, and we had been notified long before that Tina's Pre-K class would be cancelled (along with the Monday holiday, of course). It was Rita's weekend, and she intended taking our daughter to Portland to be with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins for the duration. If the babysitter was nervous about meeting her for the first time, she didn't show it. By five o'clock (after my conference call), Tina's little suitcase was packed (with three changes of clothes and four stuffed animals) and waiting in the foyer.

Tina made a big show of introducing her new bestest friend to Mommy, and if I had expected fireworks, I was disappointed. I was especially flummoxed when Dawn was more than happy to "just call her Rita," but I was careful not to show it. My ex-wife asked (as I half expected) if she could give up her two days during the coming week due to business. I found myself applying more and more pressure for her to keep up her visitation schedule... not because I felt the need for free time, but because I thought that our daughter should spend as much quality time with her mother as possible. She got a little huffy about it.

"If you don't want to, I'll hire Dawn to watch her!" Rita insisted. She pulled a hundred dollar bill out of her purse and held it out in the babysitter's direction. But to my amazement, Dawn was completely nonplused.

"No, Rita. I'm sorry. I only work for Mr... . uh... for your husband."

My wife's mouth firmed into a straight line. Instead of commenting, she dug back in her purse and came up with another hundred. She silently held the two bills out in Dawn's direction.

Instead of becoming flustered or angry, the babysitter smiled. "I really don't need the money. Thanks, anyway." She cast a little glance in my direction.

Rita cocked her head and studied the girl. Finally, she let a grin float across her face. "Holy cow, you're in love with him! It's been... what? Four or five days? And you're head over heels, aren't you?"

THAT had an effect. Dawn staggered back as if she'd been struck; and though she opened her mouth a couple times, she obviously didn't possess the power to form words.

Rita advance a few steps, and for a moment, I had absolutely no idea what was about to happen. But nothing did. My wife laid a gentle hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. That was totally inappropriate. The thought just surprised me, that's all." She let a moment pass. "There are no bad guys in this story, Dawn."

And, with that, she turned back toward me and continued her arguments. There had been a schedule change, and she was going to be in the northern part of the state all week, she explained (she was a pediatrician who worked for the state in Maine's four Native American tribal reservations). Her parents were busy, and they couldn't watch Tina. Neither could her sister. I finally capitulated. Rita got her way. Again. The "no bad guys" comment seemed especially ironic to me.

Then, suddenly, we were alone. Dawn was very sad as she watched the car drive off, and for a few moments, I thought she was about to cry.

"She... she's... beautiful," she whispered.

This caught me totally off guard. "Rita?" I thought about the statement and shrugged. "I guess." I let another few seconds tick by. "Actually, not really." My words seemingly had no effect on her. "Let's go out," I told her.

Now she glanced at me sharply. "No! I mean, no sir!" She looked down at herself for a moment, then reached up and fingered her long, scraggly hair. "YOU go, sir. I just downloaded a book I want to read."

I reached out and put my hand on her arm. Her breath caught, but she didn't pull away. "You haven't denied me any request since coming to work for me. Well... except for the calling me 'sir' thing. Are you going to refuse me now? I want go out with you. Let's get some dinner."

She seemed suddenly panicked. "Sir, I look horrible! I don't have any nice clothes! I... "

In response, I simply opened the front door, held out my hand to her until she finally took it, and then led her outside and up the street. We went to the noisiest bar in town; not one of those near the marina, but the one up on Main Street. I found a booth in a corner that would be farthest from the music when the band began playing, as I knew would be the case on a Friday night. I bought her first one wine cooler and then another while I had martinis, then we split a bottle of Chardonnay with our meals. It was, beyond any doubt, the most pleasant evening I had spent in almost a year.

Before the alcohol began to take effect, she was constantly fidgeting, smoothing her clothes, touching her face and hair; but eventually, she got caught up in the conversation, which, by unspoken consent, never touched on recent events. I told her about growing up in Rapid City; she talked about her childhood in Thousand Oaks, near Los Angeles. She had been adopted through a church-sponsored program from an orphanage in Mongolia. She had never considered herself a real "Valley Girl," due to her appearance; not because of her heritage, but rather because she had struggled all her life with her weight (and a perceived lack of beauty) in a place where all the popular girls were gorgeous, blonde and skinny.

Despite our distance from the dance floor, when the live band struck up, it was difficult to hear; so I got up and sat beside her on one side of the table. We were constantly touching, and half way through the bottle of wine, I think we were both getting comfortable with the intimacy. I tried to think up and relate the most awkward moments of my youth just so I could hear her laugh. And yet, through the entire evening, she always called me "sir."

Halfway home, she stumbled and I caught her before she fell. I offered her my arm, and she clutched it the rest of the way, saying nothing else for the remainder of our walk. Once inside, she smiled and thanked me for a wonderful time, then fled to her room before I could comment. I poured myself a brandy and sat in the living room, thinking about her, trying to puzzle through the feelings I was having and the mystery that was my new babysitter. Maybe I shouldn't have had that brandy. It emboldened me... imbued me with a false sense of power. She would seemingly do anything I asked her to do (except call me by my first name), and I suddenly wondered where the limits of her obedience were drawn. Resolved to find out, I got up and went to her bedroom door.

I knocked softly but didn't wait for an answer. The room I'd given her had its own attached bath, and she was just emerging from that small inner sanctum. She wore one large yellow bath towel around her body, tucked into itself just above her breasts, and another blue towel wrapped around her hair. She looked up at me, shocked. "Mr. Torrance! What... What do you want?" She reached up with one hand and clutched the top of the towel near her ample chest and down with the other to tug at the lower part, which barely covered her crotch. She stayed frozen in that pose for several long seconds before lowering her arms slowly to her sides. Somehow, the towel remained protectively around her. I found that I was breathing hard. Was she offering herself to me? "What do you want, sir?" she whispered softly.