Pink Cloud

Even on the second evening of the con, Carmella still had a little bit of trouble responding to her scene handle. She didn't post much online, and the few people she did talk to had gotten to a first-name basis with her long before they cajoled her into attending her very first 'erotic hypnosis event'. So when a gangly Caucasian man with unkempt, sandy brown hair and deep blue eyes stopped dead right in front of her, did a double-take, and said in a British accent, "You're Soporiffic, right? From the wall?" it took Carmella a moment or two to even realize that he was talking to her at all, let alone what the hell he was talking about.

When she finally parsed it out, Carmella was very grateful that her ebony skin swallowed up her blushes. She'd gone up to the wish board yesterday in a fit of enthusiasm and scrawled, 'TURN MY BRAIN INTO A FLUFFY PINK CLOUD!' in great big letters, signing her scene name underneath it and dotting the 'i' with a little heart. It felt incredibly liberating, confessing the fantasy that she'd spent most of her post-pubescent life nurturing to an audience of people who could genuinely fulfill it, and Carmella had spent most of yesterday wandering around as though she expected a hypnotist to pop up in a puff of smoke like a genie.

It hadn't happened, though, and she went through the second day more than a little subdued as she adjusted her expectations to match the realities of the event. It turned out that a lot of the convention involved going to classes, listening to lectures, and taking notes; even last night's play party turned out to be a lot of people Carmella didn't know clustering in small groups and chatting about ordinary things, with only a few scenes taking place here and there on the periphery of events. Her friends all told her that this was perfectly normal, that a lot of folks spent the first night catching up with people they hadn't seen in months, but Carmella couldn't help feeling like maybe her dream wasn't going to come true.

But all of a sudden, she had her very own genie standing right here in front of her... always assuming that your mental image of a genie was a skinny dude with floppy hair wearing a white suit with a black shirt that made him look like he was auditioning for the Pet Shop Boys. He had a white tie that somehow managed to make him seem even skinnier, a button on his lapel that said, 'Ask me about my Pre-Talk!', and a badge that listed him as 'The Goblin Viscount'. She'd seen him in passing a few times, and she recognized that scene name from the schedule, but this was the first time she'd spoken to him the whole con. And here he was, seemingly very interested in fulfilling her oldest and most enduring sexual fantasy.

The whole thing felt so unexpected that Carmella was reduced to stammering, "Um, yeah, that's... um, yeah, that's me, from the wall, yeah," like her brain had already turned into cotton candy inside her head; but thankfully, this was Day Two of an erotic hypnosis con. She was pretty sure that by this point, she could take off her clothes and do an a cappella rendition of Gloria Gaynor's 'I Will Survive', and nobody would bat an eye.

Sure enough, the Viscount just gave her a little smirk and said, "And has someone already fluffed your brain tonight?" She could understand how he got that impression, even before she did her inadvertent Valley Girl impersonation; she'd dressed up for the play party in a bubblegum pink frock she repurposed from a Queenie Goldstein costume she did a few years back, and her cheeks and eyelids were dusted with bright pink glitter.

But she hadn't even gotten her hypnosis cherry popped yet, let alone had her brain melted to a cotton candy slurry the way she dreamed about. "I wish," she grumbled, trying to make it sound playful instead of vaguely resentful. She wasn't sure she entirely succeeded; this was already Saturday, and while her friends all assured her that there would be plenty of informal opportunities for trance on Sunday evening after the con wound down, Carmella was painfully aware that this was the last official play party. She was starting to feel like Kaylee at the ball, all dressed up and no one to dance with.

Then the Viscount's smile widened, a charmingly crooked grin that suddenly made it clear why he took his name from David Bowie. "Well, your wish could be my command," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief at the play on words. "Would you like to find somewhere to talk about what you really want to do? If I'm not interrupting, that is."

Carmella glanced over at her friend Monique, who responded by grinning widely and waggling her eyebrows the way only your very best friends can get away with. "Um, I think I can spare a little time," she mumbled, momentarily pretending that the Viscount's shoes were the most interesting thing in the whole world.

A few minutes later, and they were in the convention's informal dungeon, trying very hard to ignore the squeals of a busty white girl who was apparently hypnotized to come every time she heard the sound of a bell. "Really, giving her jangly earrings seems almost like cheating," the Viscount muttered appreciatively, before tearing his gaze away from the shuddering woman and putting his full attention on Carmella. "So tell me," he said, his smile fading into sincere interest, "what does 'turn my brain into a fluffy pink cloud' mean to you?"

Carmella was momentarily taken aback; despite two full days of classes emphasizing the importance of negotiation, pre-talk, and consent, somehow she imagined their conversation would begin with 'Look into my eyes...' and go on from there. She struggled to find a way to describe years of masturbation sessions, furtive explorations of highly specialized kink sites, and fantasies that always dissolved into orgasms so spectacular that she saw stars.

"I... I guess I just want to, like, not think?" she said at last, all too conscious that she already sounded a bit like a stereotypical airhead. "But, like, I want to be able to think enough to know that I can't think, if you know what I mean? I want to know that it's getting harder and harder to push my brain to work, and every time I notice it just makes me more and more horny and giggly and..." Carmella paused, her skin flushed and hot with arousal or embarrassment--she couldn't tell which. "Um. Foggy. Like the cloud is filling up my head and pushing all the thoughts out until all I want to do is believe everything I'm told."

The Viscount nodded. He didn't seem to find Carmella's fantasy silly or stupid at all, which helped her relax a little as he said, "So do you want to be mindless, then, like your brain is literally emptying out, or do you just want to feel dumb like a bimbo?" He must have noticed her wincing, because he immediately said, "Right, okay, the first one."

Carmella shook her head rapidly. "No, no, the second one!" she blurted out rapidly, like a diner calling back a departing waiter with a last-minute substitution. "I just... I don't like that word, I'm sorry. I know a lot of people like it, and that's cool for them, but it kind of gives me bad memories. Can we not call it that?" She really hoped he wouldn't ask why--the last thing she wanted was to dredge up a whole bunch of toxic shit from her teenage years when she was trying to get herself in the mood for her first official Hypnotic Sexytimes.

Thankfully, he just gave her a solicitous smile and said, "Sure. It's no problem at all. We can stick with 'intelligence play', if you like." Carmella nodded gratefully, breathing a sigh of relief inside. "But you do want to be less intelligent, and have a harder time thinking as you go deeper. Do you want to feel that way for a while after you wake up, or...?"

Carmella squirmed a little as she pictured wandering the con on the Viscount's arm, her brain reduced to a little fluffy cloud of cotton candy as she giggled aimlessly and agreed with everything she was told. She imagined floating along in a haze of arousal, constantly horny and happy and compliant... then she imagined bumping into Monique in that condition. "Um, maybe not this first time?" she murmured, her voice high and nervous. "I'm sorry, I know I'm putting all sorts of conditions on this, I know I'm probably being such a pain, but..."

The Viscount shook his head vigorously, his eyes wide with concern. "No, no no no no no!" he said, sounding for all the world like an off-brand David Tennant impersonator. "You're letting me know what a good experience feels like to you, and that's really important!" He reached out to her, then paused. "Um, are you okay with touch?" he asked, his hand hovering uncertainly a few inches above her knee.

Carmella looked at him for a moment, almost too surprised to say yes. "Um, no, that's fine," she babbled after a moment, when she saw him start to withdraw his hand. "Sorry, I just..." She gestured at her knee, trying to somehow convey the complicated concepts of living in a world where black women normally didn't get asked permission for a lot of things including but far from limited to touch. It didn't really work. "Um, never mind. Yeah. It's fine."

The Viscount patted her on the knee. Somehow, it felt like he understood just what she meant. "Look," he said, his hand warm and reassuring through the thin fabric of her frock as he spoke, "we both want this to be a really wonderful, happy session for you. The more you tell me about what you want and need, the better the scene is going to be. So don't feel like you're being too demanding, don't feel like you're doing something wrong by asserting yourself. The time to give up control is once the induction starts, not when we're negotiating. Okay?"

Carmella nodded. "Okay," she said, taking a bit of a breath to steady herself. She hadn't expected to feel this anxious about her first trance; somehow, she'd imagined that someone would just walk up to her and sweep her off her feet and do everything she ever dreamed of without even saying a word to her. This was a little more work than she anticipated... but she had to admit, it was really nice to sit down with a white guy and have him actually listen to her.

"Alright," the Viscount said, giving her knee a little squeeze. "So you want me to make you feel fuzzy and easily confused, agreeable and compliant, and very happy and horny, right?" Carmella nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. She felt like every one of the Viscount's words was hammering away on her hot buttons, and she was pretty sure her voice would come out about an octave too high if she said anything. The room suddenly seemed hot and stuffy, like the air conditioning was running in reverse or something. Carmella had an absurd urge to dash off and check her makeup to make sure the glitter wasn't running.

The Viscount blushed a little, his mouth opening silently for a moment before the words finally managed to find their way down to his lips. "Now, um, about the..." He coughed a little, and Carmella smiled. It was kind of cute, seeing him suddenly act all shy and stammery. "You said you wanted to be compliant, confused and horny," he continued, finally settling into his groove again. "That means I need to know where your boundaries are now, just in case you wind up in a mental state where you feel like you want to agree to things that you wouldn't want to do if you were awake. So... sexual touch? Nudity? Intercourse? I'm fluid-bonded to my partner, so we'd need condoms to do anything involving penetration, but other than that I'm open to whatever you're interested in doing."

Once again, Carmella had the slightly dismayed sensation of uncertainty that came from taking her entirely fantastical fantasy and trying to pull it out into the real world for the very first time. In her head, her hypnotist always came up to her in the subway on her way to work or after school when she was grading assignments, or late one Saturday night when she was out at the club, and before she knew it she was nodding amiably along with his words and staring at a pretty pink pendant that filled her brain with warm pink mist. And then he spirited her back to his house and fucked her senseless, constantly lulling her back into soft, giggly compliance with his special hypnotic trigger, and she never needed to think again. It was simple, it was fucking insanely hot, and it never failed to get her off.

But hot in a fantasy wasn't always the same as hot in a reality. Now that her dream was right there in front of her, Carmella found that she wasn't at all sure she wanted to let a stranger fuck her, or even necessarily play with her body until she got to know him a little bit better. "Um... would it be okay if we didn't do... any of that? Like, can you just make me, um, really horny so that I want to maybe hike up my skirt and stick my hand in my panties or something? I just don't know that I'm ready for the big leagues yet, is all."

The Viscount chuckled. "Trust me, there's really no such thing as 'the big leagues'. A lot of people around here don't even feel comfortable with 'hand on the knee' touching, but they have no trouble finding fantastically hot scenes to do. You don't have to do anything sexual at all; we can have a wonderful scene where all you do is feel nice and blank and bubbly, and I won't make you do anything you're not entirely comfortable with. Okay? You tell me what you want your limits to be, and that's what they are. No judgment, I promise."

Carmella found herself fascinated by his shoes again. "Um. I... I really want to." Her throat seemed to close up around the words until only a whisper could escape. "To masturbate. During the scene." She kept her eyes resolutely down, unable to meet his gaze. Her whole body felt hot and flushed with arousal to the point where she had to believe anyone looking at her could see it. "Please," she finally finished, her fingers already twitching with the urge to slip down between her thighs and dip into the wetness she could already feel.

She couldn't look up to see the Viscount's face, but the husky growl in his voice as he said, "I think I'd like that a lot," spoke volumes.

A long silence followed, full of pleasant anticipation, before the Viscount finally cleared his throat and said, "So, is there anything else that you can think of that you want me to know before we begin? Any phobias or aversions, anything I shouldn't mention while you're in trance? Any particular needs you have for aftercare beyond hydration and cuddles?"

Carmella shook her head. "I can't think of anything," she said hesitantly, before realizing how that sounded. "Um, I mean--" They both broke up into chuckles that seemed to dissolve a little of the nervous tension Carmella felt creeping up on her. "I think I'm good," she finished, once the laughter finally stopped.

"Okay," the Viscount said, reaching out and taking her hands in his own. "Then I'd like you to just relax for me, just take a nice deep breath and allow your body to relax for a moment." His voice deepened a little, taking on a smooth, calming timbre as he gazed into Carmella's hazel eyes. "I'm going to start counting down from one hundred now, counting all the way down from one hundred to zero as you look into my eyes and let yourself focus on the sound of my voice. And every time you hear an even number, you're going to close your eyes, and every time you hear an odd number, you're going to open your eyes. Nice and easy, right? You can do that for me, can't you?"

Carmella nodded, her whole body tingling lightly with arousal as she gazed into the Viscount's sapphire eyes and took a long, slow, deep breath. "Yes," she sighed out, quietly amazed at the way her voice already sounded softer, calmer, more relaxed. She realized suddenly that on some level, she hadn't really expected this to work at all until just now, and the tingling intensified into a rush of heat between her legs as it finally hit her that it really really would.

"Very good," the Viscount said smoothly. "And one hundred, feeling those eyes sink shut nice and tight, feeling the relaxation rush in as you let them close." Carmella's eyelids closed slowly, deliberately, almost as if they made the decision on her behalf. She felt her breath go out in a whoosh, her shoulders slumping and her muscles loosening as she focused her attention on the Viscount's words. It seemed surprisingly easy, almost as if the pre-talk had left her so ready to be hypnotized that all she needed to do was listen and let it happen.

"Good girl, and ninety-nine..." Carmella's eyes opened, her gaze instantly locking on the beautiful stare that seemed to fill her field of vision. "That's it. Feel those heavy, heavy eyelids working so hard to stay open, making you feel so drowsy, so sleepy. You're doing so well now, and ninety-eight..." Carmella closed her eyes again, like a long slow blink that never seemed to get back around to the opening part. "That's it, feel that relaxation flowing into you every time those dreamy, lazy eyes slide down... and down... and down, just like a warm pink mist flowing into your lungs."

Carmella took another long, deep breath, imagining a stream of pink vapor filling her nostrils and swirling around in her lungs before being expelled once more in a slow, steady sigh. "And ninety-seven," the Viscount said, her response already feeling automatic as she opened her eyes once more and refocused her gaze onto his deep, penetrating stare. "Such a good girl, so easy and effortless to follow along now, letting those heavy, heavy eyelids flutter their way open so that you can look deep, deep into my eyes and listen to the sound of my voice. Following my voice, following my words, and closing your eyes again on ninety-six, feeling so good as that deep, warm pink fog fills your mind for me now."

Carmella's eyelids practically slammed shut, her head feeling ever so slightly wobbly on her shoulders as her mind automatically pictured the stream of pink mist bubbling up into her head and fogging over all of her thoughts with pleasant relaxation and arousal. She squirmed in her chair, her mind already drifting into anticipation of the culmination of the fantasy they'd collaborated to create. Dimly, she heard the Viscount saying, "The fog keeps getting thicker, keeps getting deeper, and soon you're going to find that some of your thoughts just drift all the way off into that fog and fade away. And that's just fine, those are thoughts you didn't really need anymore, you can just let them go and focus on my voice on ninety-five."

Carmella's eyes fluttered open, instantly locking onto the Viscount's gaze as if they were magnetized. "That's it, every time your eyes close it becomes easier and easier for them to close, every time your eyes open it becomes more and more of a struggle to lift those heavy eyelids." Carmella felt a momentary surge of confusion--she had just opened them, but he was talking about closing them? She blinked heavily, her mind trying to respond to instructions that she knew he wasn't giving, and just as she'd managed to open her drowsy eyes once more she heard him say, "Ninety-four," and they slipped shut almost gratefully.

"That's it," he cooed, gently rocking her hands from side to side, squeezing them lightly and easily as he spoke, "deeper and deeper down every time they close, the pink fog filling up your mind until there's no room for all those big thoughts anymore. Your mind is getting smaller and cozier, curling up inside the fluffy pink cloud like my words are wrapping you up in a warm pink blanket, and it feels so good and so nice to let all those thoughts float away into the mist and leave you peaceful and relaxed. The fewer thoughts you have, the easier it is to focus on my voice... and ninety-three, eyes opening again."

It seemed almost impossible for Carmella to drag her eyelids back open again; all she wanted to do was leave them closed and sink deeper into the fantasy of fluffy pink bliss that seemed to overlay her vision as she gazed inexorably into the Viscount's commanding stare once more. They drooped heavily, giving her a sleepy, drowsy look that she knew he noticed because he said to her, "Getting so, so difficult to keep those sleepy eyes open, all you want to do is float in your pink cloud and relax, relax, relax on ninety, eyes closed again for me now."