Pink Cloud

Something in Carmella's head recognized the missing numbers, but her eyes were already slipping shut before she could really make sense of it. She gave in blissfully, releasing a heavy sigh before she took in another long, slow, deep breath of her special pink mist. "And the mist wraps right up around you now, making it so hard to think, because all those big thoughts can't fit inside your head anymore. They keep getting lost in the mist, and the bigger the thought you try to think with your cozy pink mind, the harder it is to see the end of it, until you just have to give up and giggle at how silly it is to try to think anymore." Carmella felt a sleepy smile spread across her face, a little chuckle bubbling up as she pictured the end of a sentence sticking out into the cloud and trailing off into confusion.

"That's right, good girl," the Viscount said, his voice warm and encouraging. "You don't want to think, you just want to listen and relax and let go on eighty-eight and SLEEP." Carmella felt a moment of utter, bewildered incoherence swamp her brain as she tried to close eyes that were already closed, but then she felt the Viscount tug her arms forward and she heard him say sleep and suddenly she felt like she was falling and her mind didn't seem to want to work anymore. She slumped into his arms, sagging loosely against him as he rocked her gently and purred, "That's it. That's it, good girl. Deep trance now. Deep trance for me now. Good girl."

He carefully returned her to an upright position, propping her up against the back of the chair and maneuvering her head into a loosely centered point of balance over her shoulders. Something about the way he posed her like a doll made Carmella's trance feel even deeper, even more profound; even her muscles seemed to want to follow the Viscount's instructions now over her own. She sat passively, listening with blank and docile compliance as he said, "Deeper and deeper now, letting your mind float deeper and deeper into the pink cloud for me now. It's so hard to think, isn't it?"

Carmella smiled dreamily. She wanted to try to answer, she really did, but every time she tried to reach for words, they seemed to vanish into the pink mist. And it felt so good to let them go. It felt absolutely amazing, like floating in a warm scented bath and feeling the peace and pleasure soak right in all the way down to her bones, until eventually she couldn't even make herself try to find her thoughts anymore. The only words in her head were the Viscount's words, waiting for her to repeat them back to him. "It's so... hard to think," she murmured, her clit tingling sharply at the sound of her own hypnotized voice.

"Of course it is," the Viscount said, his voice coaxing her ever deeper into relaxation. "And you can imagine yourself taking step after step into the soft, pink cloud, losing yourself more and more in the blissful warmth and the comforting, dreamy fog. With every step, it feels better and better. With every step, it gets harder and harder to think. There's nothing but pink in your mind now, and the more you try to think of anything else, the nicer it feels to let your fuzzy, drowsy brain fill up with pink. Isn't that right, pretty girl?"

Carmella tried to follow along, but the thread of his words simply trailed off into giddy ecstasy as the pink mist swirled ever more thickly inside her head. Even repeating the words seemed too difficult--her mind tripped over 'nicer' and 'fuzzy' and 'drowsy' and 'dreamy' and eventually settled into helpless surrender. "Yes," she replied blankly, unable to do anything more than agree now.

"Good girl," the Viscount husked, his voice thick with arousal. She couldn't understand what was turning him on so much--she wasn't even naked, just slumped in her chair in a vacant, obedient trance and accepting his hypnotic commands. But thinking about it felt too much like work right now. She simply listened to his words as he continued, "And the more you try to think, the harder it becomes. Like walking up a hill that just gets steeper and steeper, every step pushing your tired, drowsy brain closer and closer to the moment where you just have to give up and rest. You can feel those thoughts slowing down more and more, can't you?"

Carmella sighed, the mental exhaustion weighing her down until her whole body sagged into the chair with the force of it. "Yes," she responded, her voice a drowsy monotone that no longer seemed to be under her control. "I can feel my thoughts slowing down more and more." It didn't upset or disturb her at all, though. It felt absolutely wonderful to give up the struggle to think and let someone else tell her what to do, like letting go of a burden she didn't even know she was carrying until she released it. Carmella felt like she could stay like this forever.

But the Viscount had other plans. "And the harder it is to think," he purred, sounding for all the world like he was snapping a trap shut around Carmella's brain, "the more aroused you become. The more you struggle to push those weak, drowsy thoughts through the thick, pink fog, the more your mind focuses instead on the pleasure flowing through your body instead. Getting stronger and stronger now, pulling on those sleepy, heavy thoughts until all you can think about is how turned on you're becoming. Try to think for me, pretty girl, and tell me what it does to you."

Carmella's mouth opened, she started to speak... but the more she grasped for the words, the more she felt her clit throbbing between her legs like a second pulse. Her jaw hung slack in helpless, bewildered amazement as the suggestion took root in her mind, drawing her attention more and more to the way her breasts felt so suddenly sensitive against the thin fabric of her frock and her pussy tingled with gush after gush of liquid arousal. She tried to find a description in her head, something to answer the insistent demand of the Viscount's lingering instruction, but the more she struggled the harder it became and the wetter she got until she finally whimpered out, "...hhhhorny?" with the confused air of a student guessing wildly on an oral exam.

But the Viscount's voice told her that she'd guessed exactly right. "Good girl!" he cooed, in tones of luxurious, almost condescending praise. "It makes you so horny and so happy to try and fail to think for me. The more you struggle to make that silly, fuzzy, foggy brain of yours work, the more the pink cloud steals those thoughts and replaces them with arousal. Until you can't stop yourself from playing with that pretty pussy of yours for me. Until you can't even remember why your fingers aren't teasing that throbbing, aching clit of yours." He paused. "Tell me, good girl... what's the square root of eighty-one?"

Carmella's eyes popped open automatically, unthinkingly responding to the Viscount's earlier suggestion about odd numbers. It didn't disrupt her trance at all, though; she simply stared vacantly into the distance, her eyes unable to focus properly on anything, as she attempted to answer his question. "Suhhh... um, I..." she mumbled, trying to put the words together into an order that seemed to have any meaning at all. She could see the mathematical symbol in her mind, she taught it to middle schoolers every day, but... but the more she tried to remember how to turn the numbers into other numbers, the more she found herself wriggling in her seat until her frock was more like a belt than a dress.

The Viscount was leaning forward in his chair, his eyes glittering with excitement as he watched her vacant, empty stare. "Let's try an easier one, then," he said, his voice filled with mischief. "What's sixteen plus twenty-one plus eight plus three plus two?" Carmella's eyes closed, opened, closed, fluttered halfway open then finally slipped shut again as the sudden onslaught of numbers made her brain dribble out between her thighs.

"S-sssix... uhhhh..." Carmella couldn't even retain all five numbers, much less figure out how to combine them into a bigger number. By the time she'd remembered that the third number was eight and the fourth number was three, the first number had slipped out of her memory and then the third number followed along with it while she was trying to remember whether the fifth number was two or the second number was five. Finally, she gave up, bursting into helpless peals of laughter as she moaned out, "It's just so harrrrrd..."

The Viscount chuckled. "Then we'll give you an easy one, pretty girl. So easy that I just know you can solve it... unless your foggy, horny brain is so lost in the pink cloud that all you can do is play with yourself for me. What's two plus two?"

Carmella's eyes rolled back under her eyelids, her fingers twitching with arousal as she struggled desperately to make her brain work. This was so simple, this was math, she knew this, but... "tuhh, two... uhhhh, two plus..." She could feel the gears in her mind grinding, sticky pink syrup gumming them up until all she could think about was how good it would feel to stop trying and play with her soaking pussy. "T-two... plus, um... two..." She tried counting in her head, but all that did was remind her of the Viscount's warm, soothing voice guiding her down into trance and her brain kept going the wrong direction and counting down... "Two... p-plus... ohhhhhgoddddd..."

And then it was gone. Carmella's fingers dived into the waistband of her pink panties, sinking without even a trace of resistance into the slick channel between her labia and finding her clit. "Oh, ohhhh fuck, ohhh!" she moaned, uncaring that she was louder than the white girl with the earrings now. "Oh, ofuuggghh, gnnnh, ysssss!" She could hear her fingers squishing and squelching as they pumped in and out of her throbbing cunt, soaking her panties with her musk as she masturbated with helpless, heedless abandon. She couldn't stop now, her mind had simply seized up under the effort of trying to think, and all she wanted to do was make herself come as hard and as fast as she possibly could.

The Viscount's voice lured her deeper and deeper into the pleasure, coaxing her with murmurs of, "Good girl, that's it," and, "Too horny to think now, just fucking your pretty pussy," until Carmella's moans deepened to screams. Her legs were spread as wide as they would go, her body reacting instinctively to give her fingers full access to her gushing cunt. Her hips strained upward, desperate to fuck every last drop of pleasure out of the intruding digits, and her orgasm struck her like a bolt of lightning straight to the brain.

"Fuhhhhh!" she squealed, her eyelids fluttering as the pleasure became too intense for even the Viscount's hypnotic suggestions to fully control her reflexes. She felt a liquid rush of heat between her legs, her pussy squirting under the total onslaught of ecstasy that overwhelmed her, and she suddenly squeezed her legs together tightly around her fingers in utter, aching need. Carmella's whole world narrowed down to her clit, her brain incandescing like a white-hot star as her climax seemed to warp and distend her perception of time into a tiny eternity of pleasure.

Only when her screams became hoarse did she finally hear the Viscount's voice soothing her back down from the plateau of bliss, telling her, "That's it. Good girl. Relaxing now, letting your mind and your body melt and soften into warm, peaceful sleep for me. Just relax now, pretty girl. Just relax and sleep. Relax and sleep." Slowly, reluctantly, Carmella's hand twitched to a stop. Her hips sank back down onto the chair. Her head slumped forward. The waves of orgasm diminished into the comforting ripples of the afterglow. She let out a deep, lazy sigh that threatened to become a snore as the post-coital exhaustion hit her all at once.

But she could still hear the Viscount. "And now, I want you to imagine yourself stepping into a hot shower, feeling the clean, warm water pouring steadily down and washing all of my suggestions away," he said. Carmella whimpered, some part of her slightly reluctant to relinquish so much bliss, but she understood why it needed to happen. "All the suggestions from this scene, sluicing down the drain and gone. Leaving just your happy memories of a wonderful time with me, leaving you refreshed and energized and alert like you're starting a fresh new day. And coming back on one, two, three, four and five. Wake."

Carmella's eyes fluttered open, darting around in momentary confusion as if she didn't quite expect to find herself still in the same room where she began the trance. "I... wow," she mumbled, carefully extracting her hand from her panties. She looked down, slightly ashamed to see that she had absolutely soaked the chair and a good portion of the carpet in front of it. "Wow. There's... there's a damage deposit for this con, right?"

"Oh, I expect so," the Viscount said cheerfully. "I don't imagine you're the only person who's done something like that around here... even if I think you are one of the most beautiful." He was obviously flushed and a little bit sweaty, and Carmella could easily spot a visible bulge in his pants. Carmella expected that his partner (whoever they were) would probably be pretty happy tonight.

She kind of envied them. Even through her physical exhaustion, even with the purgative suggestion at the end, Carmella still found herself looking hungrily at the Viscount's crotch and imagining what it would be like to slip away like that again and eagerly give her body over to him. A thought struck her, and she suddenly found herself blurting out, "You didn't put in a trigger!"

The Viscount looked momentarily confused. "Well, no. We didn't talk about it beforehand, and, um... did you want one?"

Carmella coughed out a surprised laugh. "I don't know? I just... I somehow thought that always happened at the end of every trance. Like, you finish up and then you put in a trigger to get them back there whenever you wanted."

The Viscount shook his head, still smiling gently at her. "Not without permission," he said, reaching out to lovingly caress her forehead. "Maybe we can do that next time, though, if you'd like. Um, if you'd like there to be a next time and a trigger, I mean," he burbled, his suave charm momentarily melting back into awkward adorability.

Carmella got up slowly and gingerly, her legs shaking from the evening's exertions. "I... I think I would, yes," she said meekly, staring up at the ceiling this time to avoid both the Viscount's eyes and the stained carpet. "But not just yet? I'm still kind of wobbly, and--"

"Right!" the Viscount exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "I'm so sorry, where are my manners? You need aftercare. Let's find you a better place to sit, get you some food and water, and then you can just rest and recover for a bit. If you need cuddles, I'm told I'm not nearly as bony as I look..."

Carmella giggled. "I'd like that," she said, leaning on him as they headed back down to the party. Carmella was pretty sure she was done playing for the night, but she wasn't quite ready to let this wonderful evening end... and she was already thinking of ways to make her next scene even better.

THE END