Tales of an Unethical Hypnotist Ch. 04

"And what's your role in all this?" my wife asked, still obviously not convinced.

"I have two roles," I responded. "First is to be Chani's friend and ally. Of course, in matters of discipline, I will always support you. But, as much a possible, I need to be her friend and ally. Sometimes this can even mean coconspirator, but just on the surface.

"Basically, if she's angry or frustrated with you, I want her to come to me for advice rather than going to her friends. Obviously, this isn't always going to work, but again, as much as possible, I need to be her friend.

"Second, I need to be the...um avatar -so to speak- of masculinity in her life. Part of becoming a woman is learning about masculinity, and with social media and Internet porn, it's very easy to get very confused about that subject.

"So, in spending time with her, she can learn how I act, in general, with other people, with women, etc. And from that, get a better understanding of what healthy masculinity looks like."

"Well, I don't know," Marsha eventually responded. "I guess it all sounds reasonable. I need to think about it. What are you asking me to do right now?"

"Oh, nothing," I said, somewhat defensively. "We were just having a conversation, and I was sharing how I approach these sorts of issues with my clients. We established a long time ago that I am not this family's therapist.

"I mean, that's why I haven't said anything before. You know I don't feel comfortable 'dictating' policy for the household. If you think about it and decide you want to make some changes, or that we just need to talk more, that's great. But I wasn't trying to tell you what to do."

"No, I know, you're fine," my wife said diplomatically. "I just got a little defensive because it felt like -even though I know you didn't intend it- but it felt like you were criticizing how I act as a mother to our daughter."

"I'm sorry," I said. "You're right, I didn't intend it, but I know I can get fired up about this stuff, and I do worry about Chani.

"Anyway, it's late. I'm going to head to bed. I imagine you'll be up for a while longer?"

"Yeah," she responded, still looking distracted. "I'll probably be in, in a couple more hours. I love you."

"I love you too," I said as I leaned in and kissed her. "And Marsha..."

"Hmm?" she absently responded as her attention returned to the TV.

"Deep sleep," I gave the hypnotic trigger, and my wife's eyes slowly closed as her body slumped and relaxed.

I spent the next couple minutes deepening and reinforcing my wife's trance state. I wanted this little hypnosis session to stick with one go, so I wanted her to be deep.

Not everyone responds well to deep trance states. For some people, it backfires, and nothing sticks. But Marsha tended to be pretty receptive in this state.

Once I was comfortable with her state (and I had taken a second to slightly alter her position on the couch - so she was comfortable), I began...

"Marsha, you are a good mother. A really good mother who loves and cares for your daughter, Chani." The slightest of smiles played across her face indicating that she both heard me and appreciated what I was saying.

"I don't know, Marsha, but I bet that you do, that being a good mother can be difficult. It requires self-sacrifice. It requires determination.

"Chani is such an amazing young woman. I'm sure that so much of that is because you are such a great mother. Thank you, Marsha. Thank you for all your hard work. Thank you for all your self-sacrifice. Thank you for all your determination."

Her smile broadened a little, and I continued, "It's clear that you want what's best for your daughter. It's clear that you want her to be happy and healthy.

"I wonder, I mean I don't know, maybe you can wonder too. I wonder how much happier and healthier Chani would be if you acted on the stuff that I was telling you. The stuff about the roles of mothers and fathers and the burdens of teenagers.

"I can imagine too, maybe you can imagine, even if you try not to, you can imagine that you could be an even better mother. I wonder what that would be like. I wonder what that would feel like, to be an even better mother.

"You can imagine, I mean you can try not to, but you can imagine what that would feel like, what that would be like.

"I wonder if implementing my suggestions would make Chani happier and healthier.

"I wonder if Chani was happier and healthier if that would make you an even better mother.

"At the same time I can imagine, and please try not to imagine this, it's a powerful image, but try not to imagine this, that we don't implement my suggestions and how that would impact Chani.

"Try not to imagine Chani, having a nervous breakdown."

"Try not to imagine Chani, dropping out of school."

"Try not to imagine Chani, married to an abusive loser."

"Try not to imagine Chani, taking her own life."

The look on my wife's face was heartbreaking. She was in pain. Obviously, she was imagining these horrible things, and obviously, it was causing her tremendous amounts of pain. I hated doing this, but one of the best motivators is the "carrot and stick" approach.

Give them something to run from and something to run toward.

I continued, "And even though you can try not to imagine all those horrible things, you can imagine how nice it would be for Chani to be happier and healthier. You can imagine how important it is for Chani to be happier and healthier. You can imagine how implementing my suggestions will make Chani happier and healthier. And you can imagine how you would feel if Chani was happier and healthier. You can imagine what it would feel like to be an even better mom than you already are."

After that, I spent another couple of minutes returning my wife to a calm, peaceful place. I instructed her to drift off to sleep for as little or as long as she liked when I counted from 1 to 5.

Then I began counting as I stood up and backed out of the room as I counted. Once I reached 5, I turned and quietly (and quickly) tiptoed down the hall to our bedroom.

I don't know what time Marsha finally came to bed, but she was lying there when I got up in the morning. It was Friday, and while Marsha had the day off, I didn't.

------------

I ended up working a little late that day. But, with Marsha home to greet Chani and get dinner started, there was no need for me to rush out of the office.

When I walked through the door, I was immediately hit with the delicious smell of what could only be my wife's "famous" lasagne. That was a good sign, she must be in a good mood.

I found my wife and daughter sitting in the family room, chatting. It was a heartwarming sight. With my wife's crazy schedule and my daughter's unending school workload, I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen the two just having a chat.

I greeted them both, then headed off to change my clothes.

During dinner, I learned that Chani had, at my wife's insistence, taken the day off of school. The two of them did a little shopping and eventually ended up back home, where my wife taught Chani how to make her lasagne. Which, I learned to my surprise, Marsha had never shown her before.

After dinner, I helped my wife clean up while Chani got ready to go out with friends. Soon enough, my wife and I were once again sitting on the couch together, just as we were the night before.

"So," I started. "Busy day?" My question was pretty straight forward, but my wife had known me far too long not to see through to what I was really asking.

"Well, I ended up thinking a lot about what you said last night," Marsha replied. "Once I got past my initial defensiveness, I realized that what you were saying made a lot of sense.

"Chani is so precious. You know, I hear all these horror stories of young women whose life ends up in the gutter because of just a couple bad choices. I can't let that happen to Chani. I'm going to be the best mom I can be."

I leaned over, kissed my wife, and held her tight as she squeezed me back. It was a pleasant moment of parental unity.

Eventually, after just a little too long for my tastes, and probably a bit too short for my wife's, I broke the embrace and pulled back. Then I arched an eyebrow at my wife and said, "You know, we've got the whole house to ourselves for the next few hours."

She met my eyes, gave me an impish grin. "I think...," she said, taking my hand and standing. "we better...," she upended her mostly full wine glass, pouring its contents down her throat in one large gulp. "Take full advantage of that," as she set down her glass and began leading me back to the bedroom.

She deposited me on the bed and kissed me full on the lips, the taste, and scent of her wine still very much apparent. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back," she cooed as she turned and entered the bathroom.

Now, Ashley, my wife's alter ego, loves my "manly" scent, but my wife, well not so much. So as she prepared herself, I headed to Chani's bathroom, dampened a washcloth, and "freshened up" my nethers.

A little bit of personal hygiene goes a long way in a marriage.

A few minutes later, my wife found me waiting on the bed as she exited the bathroom. She had touched up her eye makeup, brushed out her hair, and put on a sexy little nightie. Not quite lingerie, but still very flattering (and machine washable too).

She slithered into bed next to me as we began to pet and kiss. Gentle became loving, and loving became passionate as our hands and mouthes roamed more freely and became more insistent.

Now, between you and me, this part of the "mating ritual" is for my wife. I've never been big on kissing, it's always exciting in a new relationship, but I just don't get much out of it personally. So, as usual, my wife was happy and contented to lie back and allow me to take over.

I used my lips and tongue to explore all her favorite spots. I would kiss and lick and caress one of her erogenous zones, then move back to her lips. Then on to another area, then back to her lips. And, while after 20 years together, I had become pretty predictable in this regard, it still seemed to drive her crazy.

After several minutes of this, my wife was buzzing with pleasure, and as I continued kissing her my hand glided down her stomach inch by inch. Moments later, she audibly gasped in pleasure as my fingers slid over her clit as they continued slowly down.

To my delight, my wife was WET. She was horny, and she was wet. This is precisely the state I wanted her in as I whispered into her ear, "Deep Sleep."

Immediately all the tension left my wife's body. Her hands stopped groping me, and her head lulled to the side. But, her breathing increased, and her body tensed back up, just a little, a moment later, when I began gently circling her clit with my finger.

As I talked her deeper into trance I continued circling her clit for a few strokes, then moving my fingers lower and teasing the entrance to her pussy for a few strokes. Back and forth, back and forth.

It kept her physically in a state of high sexual arousal, while mentally, she drifted deeper and deeper into trance.

"Marsha," I began. "I'd like you to use your memory and your imagination. Sometimes, Marsha, imagination helps us remember, and sometimes memory fuels the imagination. So you can remember, or you can imagine, or you can do both.

"Afterall, Marsha, we're just having a little fun. Just having a little fun, imagining and remembering, remembering, or imagining.

"In fact, Marsha, it's a lot like dreaming. Because sometimes, your dreams are like memories, and sometimes your memories are like dreams. Or is it imagination, it doesn't matter, because it's just a dream.

"It doesn't matter, Marsha, because it's just a dream."

I continued caressing her most sensitive areas as I spoke. While I could tell her arousal had diminished, she was still highly aroused. Good.

"And sometimes, Marsha, you can control your dreams, but that's so much work. It's so hard to control your dreams. And besides, usually, they just happen. So, right now, I will control your dreams. So you can relax and imagine and remember, and dream.

"And sometimes, Marsha, things happen in our dreams that wouldn't happen in real life. And that's okay because it's just a dream. So you can just go with the flow and enjoy the dream.

"Of course, if the dream is a memory, or you're remembering a dream, maybe it did happen, or perhaps it could happen. But that's complicated, just relax and enjoy and go with the flow as we dream and remember, and imagine and dream.

"In this dream, Marsha, you're much younger. Just like so many dreams do, this one takes place in your youth. I'm not sure exactly how old you are in this dream, but it feels good to be so young and free.

"And in this dream, you're feeling very horny. Notice how horny you feel, Marsha. Notice how turned on you feel."

For the next fifteen or twenty seconds, I increased the pace of my intimate ministrations. As I did, Marsha's breathing increased, and she began to make subtle hip thrusting movements, trying to increase the contact with my fingers.

I continued, "And, Marsha, like a lot of dreams, the object of your desire is obscured. You can't tell who it is. And now, even as you focus on this person, you can't see who it is. Even so, you can feel certain things about them.

"You can tell that this person loves you. You can feel that love radiating off of them and flowing through you. Allow yourself to feel that love now, Marsha.

"You can tell that this person is strong. Feel their quiet strength.

"You can tell that this person is a man. Reach out, Marsha and feel the arms, the chest, the strong shoulders of this man who loves you."

She did just that. She reached out with her hands and began to caress my body. I could tell by her breathing and by the little sighs and groans she made that she liked the feel of it.

"Now, Marsha," I went on. "Notice your own body for a moment. Notice how you feel, physically, and emotionally.

"Notice how much love you feel for this person.

"Notice how much trust you feel toward this person.

"Notice how you need to be closer to this person. How you want to love and be loved even more." She pulled herself closer to me.

"Notice how your body feels.

"Notice the desire.

"Notice how your lips need to be kissed." She started making little puckering motions with her mouth.

"Notice how your nipples need to be touched, caressed, licked." Her breath was becoming ragged as her chest heaved, and she thrust out her breasts.

"And notice, Marsha, notice how your pussy feels. Anxious, excited, longing, and empty. Notice how it feels empty, how it needs to be filled. Notice how it knows, you know, every cell in your body knows that the man lying next to you must fill your pussy with his manhood. How doing so will be the ultimate act of love.

"You know, Marsha, that there can be no more beautiful, more perfect act, no more precious gift of love that he could give to you and that you could give to him.

"Feel the need, Marsha.

"The need, the love, the desire, the longing. With each number I count, they grow stronger and stronger.

"One, stronger.

"Two, stronger. But now you notice some hesitation from this man.

"Three, stronger. It's a hesitation born out of love, Marsha. He loves you so much.

"Four, stronger. He's afraid, Marsha. He's afraid of what might happen.

"Five, stronger. He's afraid that he's taking advantage of you.

"Six, stronger. You need to reassure him, Marsha.

"Seven, stronger. Reassure him with your lips. With your words.

She immediately began showering my lips and mouth and cheeks and chin with kisses, and as she did she spoke in the quite, stilted language of the deeply hypnotized, "Love you... Please... So much... Love you... Give... Need you..."

And, as her kisses rained down on me, I managed to continue, "Eight, stronger. Take the initiative. Show him you're ready, show him it's your choice."

She reached down and gripped my cock. Then, through a tangled mess of hands and feet, arms and legs, pulling and tugging and pushing, she managed to position herself directly underneath of me. The head of my shaft aligned perfectly with her eager entrance.

"Nine, stronger. Now, Marsha, as I say the name, you will see who this man is. And you will know, that you always knew. That it could be no one else. That this is perfect, it's exactly what you want, exactly what you need. You will know, and feel, the love and desire that fills your heart for this man.

"Ten, even stronger. Marsha, look at him, see him, know him, see who it is, who it's always been, see your father."

Marsha's eyes shot open, and in one fluid motion, she wrapped her legs around my waist, lifted her hips, and pulled me into her like she was in some sort of tantric UFC bout. Her hand, still gripping my cock, guided me into her absolutely soaking pussy, and as she did she let a deep guttural hiss, "Yessss!"

Then she looked up into my eyes, though from her point of view, still deep in trance, they were the eyes of her father. As our eyes locked, her whole body began convulsing.

Through gritted teeth, as the walls of her vagina pulsed around my cock, she managed to grunt out, in a staccato rhythm, "Fu-u-u-ck... Me-e-e Da-a-a-a-dy-y-y-y!"

Finally, with one last herculean effort, seemingly every muscle in her body contracted as she groaned. Three heartbeats later, everything went limp as my wife passed out.

I extracted myself from her arms and legs, then laid down next to her.

Tonight's activities had been incredibly hot, but the success of this exercise wasn't guaranteed.

I had a little bit more to do, so I got to work.

===========================================

Hey, Hypno Wolf here. Thanks for reading. I'm sorry this chapter was so long, but we had a lot to cover to set things up for what comes next. Thanks for hanging in there.

This story includes a fictional portrayal of erotic hypnosis performed by a horrible person in a horrible way. It is FICTION, and I do not condone the acts described in this STORY.

Thanks,

Hypno Wolf