Sandy didn't remember falling asleep, only waking up. She found herself sitting in her computer chair with her shirt pulled down under her cleavage and her skirt pulled up to her waist. She had no idea where her panties had gone. A red light told her that the webcam was on, but there were no browser windows open to suggest that anyone was watching her anymore. She reached up and shut the camera off anyway, just in case. She stretched, wincing slightly at the crick in her neck--the computer chair was comfortable to sit in, but it really wasn't made for eight hours of sleep. She got up and headed to the bathroom, taking care of some urgent needs that told her that she'd probably been sitting there for a few hours even before she finally drowsed off.

Then she went back to the computer desk and grabbed her notepad.

The notepad was...not exactly a precaution, because of course Sandy trusted Kevin. She didn't play with people she didn't trust, especially not with hypnosis. But Sandy knew that she was one of those people who simply had a knack for being hypnotized. It just seemed to be something her mind knew exactly how to do; she could lose herself in a spiral, a sparkling crystal, a soothing voice, even just a string of calming words on a computer screen. Sandy's brain loved to go under so much and went so deep that most of the time she didn't even remember her trances. She just woke up sticky and foggy and happy.

Which was hot--hell, it was unbelievably fucking hot, and Sandy spent a lot of her free time on the Internet for that very reason. (It wasn't exactly a coincidence that her most expensive and comfortable piece of furniture was her computer chair.) But sometimes she wanted to know what her subconscious got up to when she was staring at the pretty lights. Which was why she had the notepad.

Sandy flopped onto her bed and flipped back the pages to the beginning. It looked like she'd written quite a bit this time--it must have been a pretty long session, then. Normally, she only found a page or two of notes, scrawled in loopy handwriting that she barely recognized as hers. But last night looked like it took up about half the notepad. No wonder Sandy's hand was sore.

She began to read through the notes--they probably would have looked like gibberish to anyone else, but Sandy had gotten very good at reading her own hypnotized handwriting over the years. She'd filled something like ten or eleven pads of paper with her messages from her sleeping self to her waking mind, ever since she decided to use a little self-hypnosis to bypass her tendency toward spontaneous amnesia. It was a little low-tech, but that was the nice thing about pens and paper. You could carry them anywhere.

And it was a lot more fun to read her dazed, stream-of-consciousness notes to herself than it was to watch a recording of what she did when she was under. Sandy's subconscious always seemed to have a playful tone in the little notes that she wrote while she was in trance, compelled by an auto-suggestion to jot down every command she was given. Sometimes she went back over her old notepads just to remember her favorite sessions..or at least remember forgetting her favorite sessions.

Last night, for example, Sandy saw that she had written at the beginning, 'Sink deeper when I hear finger snaps. Forget this command. (As if I'd remember otherwise?)' She didn't remember writing it, of course; she didn't remember the trance, or even really talking to Kevin much before her mind wandered away into a warm, soft mist. But she definitely recognized her own sense of humor. It amused her, but more than that, it helped her feel a little more comfortable with the amount of control she surrendered to her own subconscious self when she went into trance. Hypnotized Sandy might be perfectly willing to strip mostly naked on a webcam and crazy, good Lord, the whole room still smelled like sex...but it was still her, deep down.

And it meant that she always knew what she had done. Well, more or less. The next note just said, 'Repeat everything Master says,' which didn't help her too much; her subconscious clearly didn't feel the need to write down what she was commanded to repeat, only that she was commanded to repeat it. But at least she knew what Kevin was telling her to do. Her subconscious wrote everything down, every single time; she remembered once waking up to see 'Stop writing NO NO NO!' on the notepad, and a sheepish wannabe Dom trying to explain to her that it was all cool and she could go right back under. His sorry ass got blocked in seconds flat.

But Kevin wasn't like that. Sandy knew she could trust him implicitly. She mostly wanted to read the notes to enjoy the faint stirrings of familiarity she got from reading things like, 'Reach down and cup my pussy with my hand. (No rubbing, that's for naughty girls. Good girls wait.)' It wasn't the quite the same as an actual memory--she didn't really remember resting her fingers gently on her labia, feeling the warm tingles of pleasure seeping into her sleepy mind and the delicious ache of anticipation at not being allowed to play with herself...but doing it now, while reading her scrawled command to do it last night, evoked all the same feelings while she was awake enough to enjoy it.

Sometimes that was the best part.

Sandy read further, eager to find out what else Kevin had made her do. 'Play with my nipples while I stare at Master's words. Read every one. BELIEVE THEM ALL.' That last sentence was underlined three times; something about the intensity of it made Sandy shiver with arousal. She couldn't remember anything she had seen that night--she'd have to go look into the chat log later to see what he was saying to her--but she remembered how they made her feel. Her pussy already felt feverishly warm under her hand, and Sandy could feel the phantoms of last night's pleasure tingling in her stiff nipples. Believing must have felt very good to make her sleepy self want it that bad.

Sandy had no idea how much time passed before the next entry, but judging by the way her handwriting shook, it must have been a long time. 'begg Master to let mee play', it said, the words practically sprawling across the page in an uncontrollable chicken scratch that covered four or five lines of the paper. Seeing it evoked the most intense sensation of need, an almost tangible ache in Sandy's wet cunt that made her almost want to whisper the word "please" even with nobody in the room to hear it. Her deep self must have been putty in Kevin's hands by that point.

The next entry was practically composed by comparison. 'Turn on the webcam.' So that was when he got her to do that. It made sense; Sandy had read enough of her own trance diaries to know that she got a little more...enthused about following instructions when she was masturbating. Kevin would have had no trouble getting her to give him a little show by that point. It wasn't exactly that her resistance weakened--Sandy had just enough of an exhibitionist streak in her to enjoy giving a little cam show to her regular play partners, and Kevin was very trustworthy even if she'd never let him see her on cam before last night.

But her arousal was definitely a factor in her decision to follow that particular command so readily. Her cunt must have been making all the decisions by then. She didn't mind, of course, but she did sometimes look back on the things she did when she was hypnotized and horny with a little bit of side-eye. She'd say that her deep self didn't have enough self-control, but that particular complaint always returned a little rejoinder from her subconscious that nobody made her get online at night and look for people who would hypnotize her.

But that was why she made sure to only play with people she could trust. Sandy knew all too well that sexual pleasure made her feel very docile. Very compliant, and eager to please...her fingers snuck into her pussy, enjoying the sound of those words in her mind.

Sandy's eyes drifted down to the next line as her hand teased her wet opening. 'Show my tits to Master'. Sandy looked down, realizing she'd never actually pulled her shirt back up. Good thing she tended to wear outfits with plunging necklines when she got online at night--even so, this shirt was probably stretched to the point of unwearability anywhere outside of her bedroom by now. She thought about pulling it back up, but right now she was enjoying the way she looked. Lying on the bed with her clothes a disheveled, slutty mess somehow made the notes and the non-memories they stirred that much more vivid. That much more...enticing. Sandy let out a little whimper, flipping the page one-handed to see what she wrote next.

'Tell Master what I'm doing', she read. Sandy shuddered, spiking her fingers deep into her wet cunt and pulling them out again with a long, low swirl around her clit. God, no wonder the whole room smelled like pussy this morning. Sandy loved dirty talk--half the reason she got so into hypnosis was all the filthy verbal commands--and if Kevin got her to talk about fingering herself on live video, she was probably dripping by the time she finished describing what her hand was up to. (Her left hand. Her right hand was still writing down every command he gave her.)

Sandy was already more than a little bit lost in a fantasy that was possibly a memory, imagining herself tickling her clit over and over while whispering to Kevin in a breathy voice, "I'm...I'm fucking myself for you, Master..." When she glanced down at the next line, though, she found herself more confused than aroused by the automatic writing of her hypnotized self. 'Describe the suggestion', it read. Sandy furrowed her brow in confusion, her fingers slowing a little as she tried to make sense of the words. Describe what suggestion? Kevin's suggestion? Had he told her to do something and forgotten it? Or did he run into a command another hypnotist had installed in her brain during some session or other, and want to know how it worked?

The next entry was even more bizarre. 'Hear what you read in Master's voice until commanded to stop.' Sandy wasn't bothered, just perplexed; Kevin had a lovely hypnotic voice, and Sandy didn't mind at all reading her notes and hearing his husky, whiskey-warm tones trickling into her mind. But she didn't know why he would tell her that if they were already on webcam. Surely he wasn't typing text commands to her at that point, was he?

She read on, trying to piece the strange commands together. 'Believe what you read. Believe what you hear. Believe what you see.' It didn't make any sense--of course Sandy believed what she read. She was reading her own words, even if she did hear them now in Kevin's deliciously commanding voice. Why would she not believe her subconscious?

Then she read the next line, and it all started to make sense to her. 'Write down everything Master tells me,' it said. 'Feel it becoming more and more true as I see it on the paper. Picture the ink filling the blank space in my mind with Master's words and Master's will.' God, that was hot. That was the suggestion she told him about, her own suggestion to write down her suggestions, and he was using it to hypnotize her even deeper. Sandy's pussy spasmed around her fingers as she realized how sexy it felt. Her eyes moved to the next line as if the words had a magnetic pull on her.

'Don't stop reading,' she saw, and the wave of arousal she felt overwhelmed the tiniest stirrings of unease in the back of her mind. 'Read all the way to the end, Sandy, accepting every word as true, hearing them in Master's voice and feeling them sink irresistibly into your deeply aroused mind.' It was the kind of suggestion she would normally see as maybe a little bit too intense, a little bit too powerful for someone with a mind as malleable as hers sometimes got. But seeing it, imagining it flowing from the tip of the pen onto the pages in her mind, it just made Sandy finger herself all the harder. It was so hot. She was so hot.

'You don't want to resist these words. Your subconscious wrote them for you to read, and you know you've already accepted them deep down in your hypnotized mind. You're only programming your conscious mind to accept what your sleepy, slutty slave self already knows.' Sandy let out an involuntary moan, the words 'sleepy, slutty slave self' feeling like they brushed her clit with Master's warm breath every time she read them. Her gaze lingered over the words, feeling herself soak them in.

'You trust Master implicitly,' she read. No, that couldn't be right. She wasn't following a suggestion to trust him, she...she followed his suggestions because she trusted him. Because she trusted him implicitly. Sandy scanned the words over and over again, trying to separate out the warm, fuzzy feeling of deep comfort and relaxation she got every time she thought about Kevin from the command she saw with her own eyes. Then she realized she wasn't really struggling at all anymore. She was just reading and accepting. And masturbating. She couldn't stop masturbating, and sexual pleasure always made her...

'...docile. Compliant. Eager to please. When your fingers slip into your wet cunt and you finger yourself for Master, it gets harder and harder to think about Master's words, and easier and easier to obey. The words sink deeper. You resist them less. Your mind glides over your conditioning, and all you want is to be a good girl for Master.' Sandy let out a low, breathy sigh of pure ecstasy, the paper shaking in her hand as she felt the pleasure gripping her thoughts. She couldn't tell anymore whether she was reading Master's commands or her thoughts. The sheer euphoric bliss that surged through her welded them inextricably together.

Her eyes were moving automatically now, scanning down the paper and flipping to the next page without even noticing. It was like she was in a waking trance, her conscious mind finally experiencing the same helpless obedient pleasure that her deep self knew so well, and she swiftly felt her faint echoes of resistance vanish under the waves of bliss at finally being allowed to know what it was like. Sandy's fingers danced on her clit as she followed along with the words that were sending her deeper into Master's power. Master's words brainwashed Sandy's deep self, and Sandy's waking mind was helpless to resist the power of her own subconscious.

'Feel the pleasure building,' she read, realizing that her mind had already elided over page after page of hypnotic programming, 'and know that when you cum you will feel it all lock into your sleepy mind. You will know it to be true, deep down, as certain as breathing. Once you cum, you will wake, remembering only that this was a wonderful trance experience and that you want to revisit these notes whenever you are aroused and ready to program yourself. You want to go deeper for Master. You want to be more obedient to Master. You want to surrender more and more to Master. You must obey, Sandy. Obey and cum for me now.'

Sandy didn't know if there was anything after that. All she could see was a warm red mist of pleasure as her hips strained up in mindless, orgasmic bliss.

It felt like she drifted in that climax forever, hearing half-forgotten phrases drifting through her mind and repeating them out loud, but eventually she felt the waves of pleasure subside into the warmth of afterglow, and then down into the gentle happiness of satiation. Eventually, she opened her eyes, trying to piece together the sticky, delicious fragments of un-memory in her mind into something approximating understanding.

She found herself lying on her bed, with her shirt pulled down under her cleavage and her skirt pulled up to her waist. She had no idea where her panties had gone. And in her right hand she held one of her notepads. Curiously, Sandy flipped it back to the beginning, hoping it might tell her what her memory would not. She was somehow sure that it held answers for her, information about her trance that she needed so badly.

Her fingers were already drifting between her thighs as she began to read.


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