Tales of an Unethical Hypnotist Ch. 10

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello reader! If you've made it this far in my story, I assume you're invested in the characters. That's good because chapter ten is the final chapter, and I had a lot to wrap up.

As a result, this chapter is long, and it's more character-driven than sex-drive. Hang in there though, you will be rewarded!

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It was late Sunday morning. My wife, Marsha, had left for work a little while ago, a double shift. Chani, our eighteen-year-old daughter, sat across from me at the dining room table.

Thus far, it had been a pleasant morning, mostly just sitting right where I was, reading the newspaper. But, everything changed moments ago when Chani walked in and took a seat.

She had just set something on the table. A leather collar, to be precise. To most people, it would look like any ordinary dog collar, even if the name, Ashley, emblazed upon it was perhaps unusual for a dog.

The reality was different, however. This was not a dog collar. It was a hypnotic prop.

Many years ago, early in our relationship, I had spent months using deep hypnotic trance states to create a sub-personality within my wife.

This personality, Ashley, was, for all intents and purposes, my sex slave. She fulfilled all my deepest, darkest sexual desires with wild abandon, even while my wife—whose body she inhabited—was generally pretty vanilla in the bedroom.

The collar was used to bring out, to wake up, if you like, this Ashley, while at the same time, putting my wife, Marsha's true personality, to sleep.

Whenever I (and only I) presented the collar to Marsha, she instantly fell into a deep sleep, and Ashley would come forward.

The process had been perfected over years of regular use to the point where Marsha had no memory of the collar. Even if she came across it on her own, while cleaning or something, she would ignore it entirely and have no memory of it later.

As you might imagine, such an endeavor is fraught with peril. As such, when I first began the hypnotic training, I was careful to create contingencies, and backdoors, just in case something happened and Marsha figured out what was going on.

Indeed, the sub-personality itself was one of those contingencies, as she, Ashley, was omnipresent—even if buried deep—in Marsha's mind. She could influence Marsha, subtly, as needed, just like any other aspect of Marsha's subconscious.

Very early in the process, there were a couple worrisome events where Marsha began to realize that something was out of sorts. Thankfully we had been able to mitigate her suspicions, and in time Ashley, and I figured out a series of little safeguards and strategies to ensure Marsha's blissful ignorance.

As an example, just last night, Ashley prevented me from cumming inside my wife. Usually, a sex 'slave' would have no say in such matters; however, part of her mandate was to project Marsha. After all, an odd taste in one's mouth upon waking was much easier to ignore than sperm leaking out of one's vagina.

And, it was that collar, that hypnotic prop, that my daughter had just placed before me.

My initial reaction was to explain it away as a bit of kink, of sexual roleplay shared between her mother and me, but Chani's recounting of events made it clear that she would never believe such an explanation.

The reality was, though, I didn't have much choice. I could lay all my cards on the table and hope that Chani didn't run to her mother (or the police). Or I could try to gaslight her and hope she bought it.

"Oh, that," I played it cool. "I'm sorry you saw that, Chani. I'm a little embarrassed to say this, but your mom and I play a little sex game that involved her pretending..."

I was stopped there when Chani interrupted me. Her voice was full of something, pain, confusion, incredulity, all of the above? "Stop! Daddy, please just stop." She paused and took several deep breaths.

"If it were anyone else, I would probably believe your story about 'sex games.' But I know who you are. In fact, today, I know you better than I ever have before.

"For starters, I know that you are a master hypnotist. For my entire life, I've heard you talking about hypnosis.

"You're obviously proud of your work, and it was inevitable that I would pick up quite a bit in eighteen years of listening to you.

"When I saw the change that came over Mom last night, I had no idea what I was seeing. But later, after thinking about it, I knew. I knew that you had done something to her mind.

"That woman," she looked down at the collar as if reminding herself of the name, "Ashley, she's not Mom, is she?"

I sighed and steadied myself. I was caught, and how I handled this was critical.

The most interesting thing was that, so far, there had been no recriminations from Chani. It appeared that she wanted to understand, not to accuse or threaten.

I quickly weighed my options, thought about potential outcomes, and decided to come clean, well, mostly.

"No," I finally responded. "Well, yes, and no."

Chani just stared at me, indicating I should continue.

"Alright. I'm going to put it all out there. When you have questions, just speak up...

"As you know, your mother is my second wife. My first marriage was a disaster. We got married for the wrong reasons, and divorce was inevitable.

"There was so much bad in that relationship, but one of the only bright spots was our sex life. We had great sex."

The sour look on Chani's face indicated that she wasn't keen to hear about my sex life with my ex-wife but was willing to continue listening as long as it was going somewhere.

"After the marriage inevitably fell apart, and some time passed, I met your mother," I continued.

"Our relationship was the exact opposite. Everything was fantastic. We had similar goals, similar beliefs, similar senses of humor. Sure, we were in love, but we were also in 'like.'"

Chani clearly had no idea what I meant, so I explained.

"I mean that we really liked each other. We became genuine friends. You may find this hard to believe, but that's rare. Most people fall in love; they feel all these intense, sometimes overwhelming feelings. Then, they intensify and confuse those feelings with sex.

"They decide that they're soulmates, get married, and five years later, realize that they're not all that into each other anymore.

"But, at that point, they've got kids and a mortgage, and their lives are so intertwined that the thought of starting over is less appealing than just sticking with this person. After all, they mostly get along; it's not terrible.

"It's why so many divorces happen when the kids move out. There are just so few reasons for them to stay together; it's easy to just walk away.

"That's not how things were with your mother and me. We were friends, real friends. We were comfortable with each other in a way neither of us had ever experienced before.

"It sounds corny because so many people say this early on, but for us, it was true: We had the perfect relationship...

"Except for sex."

I paused there and looked at Chani. She was listening intently to my little story. More importantly, she was mostly relaxed. Her facial features, body language, and eyes all indicated someone interested, not angry.

"Then, and now," I continued looking at her more directly, "your mother just wasn't a particularly sexual person."

I paused again, seemingly steeling myself before sharing profoundly personal and possibly painful information.

That's not exactly what I was doing, however. No, I realized that if I didn't get my story straight, I might destroy the narrative that I'd been weaving with Marsha and Chani over the past few weeks.

Amazingly, no one considers themselves a liar. We all like to think we're honest and honorable people, but who was I kidding?

Over the past couple of weeks, I effectively brainwashed my daughter into thinking she was desperately in love with me. And, simultaneously, I'd convinced my wife that she'd had a years-long incestuous relationship with her father—all lies.

Now, I was trying to figure out how to salvage that work—by, once again, deceiving my daughter. And even so, I didn't feel like a bad person.

I decided to save the self-reflection for later and pushed forward.

I took a deep breath and painted my face with a sorrowful and introspective expression. I could tell it was having the desired effect because when I began speaking, Chani actually leaned in closer. Perfect.

"It wasn't that she was asexual or something," I picked up where I had left off. "We did have a sexual relationship, obviously, as evidenced by your existence.

"No, it was just that she didn't enjoy sex the way I did.

"Marsha has told you about her relationship with her dad, right?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," Chani replied.

"She told you how beautiful it was?" I continued, and she nodded in response.

"About the special bond they shared?"

Again Chani nodded.

"She likely told you about how it showed her what a good relationship could be like and how that exampled helped her in her dating life."

"Yeah, something like that," Chani confirmed.

"And she told you about what a ruckus and raunchy time they had, her father and her, right? How she learned to be a skilled and considerate lover? How they could barely keep their hands off each other? How she was able to explore all her deepest fantasies so that she could enter into her marriage free of doubt and shame?" I asked as I looked at Chani expectantly.

"Uh, no," Chani responded, a little embarrassment showing on her face, likely from the subject matter.

"She didn't tell you those things because they were not part of the relationship she had with grandpa," I stated matter of factly.

"Don't misunderstand," I continued. "They absolutely had a physical relationship. It was something they shared on a regular basis. And, I'm sure that it was, at times, passionate.

"But, for them, it was mostly an expression of love. It was something gentle, something quiet. Something intimate and reserved.

"And, again, don't get me wrong, that type of sex...that type of lovemaking...absolutely has a role within a healthy relationship.

"Even the horniest guy desires to feel that level of intimacy on occasion.

"For me, though, sex is all that and...SO MUCH MORE!

"Remember last night?" I prompted her. "You told me about how you had desired to 'return the favor'—so to speak—from what I had given to you a couple weeks ago.

"When you were unable to do that, it upset you."

The corner of Chani's mouth turned up into the slightest grin, and I took that as a sign to continue.

"Marsha, your mother, would never have a thought like that. That longing to give your partner pleasure. To use your body to provide them with a gift like that, willingly, without prompting or cajoling, that's just not what sex is to her.

"For her, sex is a sweet and tender moment shared between lovers as an occasional expression and reminder of that love."

"What about last weekend?" Chani chimed in, recalling the rather wanton behavior of Marsha during the previous weekend.

"Two things created that delightful evening," I replied as if it was obvious.

"First was the alcohol. I hate to say it, but your mother is a little sexually repressed. On rare occasions, when she's had too much to drink, or...,"

I emphasized my next words, "When she's jealous of another woman. Say someone younger with bigger breasts. Someone who's at least as beautiful, if not more beautiful. Someone who's been receiving a lot of attention from her husband...

"Someone like you."

"Mom is jealous of me?" Chani asked, genuinely taken aback.

"Yes," I responded as a point of fact. "Indeed, she's told me as much. In fact, it's really been working out for me lately. She's been a whole new person in the bedroom."

"Really...," Chani said, with a hint of her own jealously in her voice.

"Anyway," I continued. "Marsha and I have very different needs when it comes to sex.

"I can easily meet her minimal needs, but she is uncomfortable trying to meet mine. It's just not in her.

"This became painfully apparent in our early relationship, once the intensity of the first few months wore off. I tried to be okay with it. I told myself over and over that our love would be enough, and my sexual needs were just my own selfishness."

I paused again. I realized that contrary to my initial intentions, everything I'd said thus far—except for the parts about Marsha and her father—had been true.

I took another deep breath and decided to continue in that vein.

"Look, Chani," I began. "I'm about to reveal a secret to you. Of course, you've obviously discovered one of my biggest secrets already, but I've never shared this story with anyone...

"I'll admit I'm a little scared. The thing is, I love you immensely. I don't know if I've put our relationship in jeopardy. And, I don't want what I'm about to tell you to change how you feel about me." When I said that, Chani was momentarily, visibly taken aback. I don't think she'd considered that last night's revelations or this morning's conversation might permanently harm our relationship. Good. This was very, very good.

"I made some mistakes with your mother, and I don't want that between us if we continue moving forward. So I'm going to tell you some things no one else in this world knows."

Again she leaned forward in rapt attention.

"Before your mother and I married—though not long before—I cheated on her."

"What!?" Chani gasped.

"Please, let me...," I tried to continue. "I'm not trying to make an excuse, but for months and months, I had denied part of myself, a HUGE part of myself, my sexuality.

"I had convinced myself that the love I felt for Marsha was enough.

"It was only after I cheated that I realized it wasn't. I was losing part of myself, and I just wasn't strong enough to deny it. And, to be perfectly honest, I didn't WANT to deny it anymore.

"I talked with Marsha, though I didn't tell her about the cheating. I just told her how I felt about sex.

"We talked, we yelled, we cried, we hugged, and we affirmed our love for each other.

"Marsha said she understood and that she would do more in the bedroom. And, to her credit, she really tried.

"But she couldn't maintain it. And, even what she was able to do was obviously forced. She wasn't enjoying herself, and that ruined it entirely for me.

"The most frustrating thing was that I KNEW she did have it in her. Like I said, when she got drunk, or someone flirted with me, we'd end up having fantastic sex.

"I thought about it long and hard. I told your mother I needed some time to myself, and for nearly two weeks, I struggled with how to proceed.

"Finally, I realized that my sexuality was simply too much a part of who I am. If I were to go through with marrying Marsha, I would be killing a part of myself."

As I spoke, I remembered back to that time in my life. To my complete surprise, the emotion of it started coming back. The pain of the choice I was making, the fear of the future, the incredible sense of loss, they all came flooding back, and I started crying.

A few minutes ago, I decided to deceive my daughter and try to salvage the twisted 'relationship' we shared. Instead, I ended up opening up to her in a way I hadn't done, with anyone, in a very long time.

I don't know why I did that, but it seemed to be the right choice. Chani reached out across the table and took my hands in hers.

I steadied myself, took a deep breath, and looked up at her.

In response, Chani smiled at me, a warm, loving smile, and she nodded, telling me to continue the story.

"Well," I continued, clearing my throat a little after my emotional outburst, "I decided to end things with your mom. It was one of the...no, it was the hardest decision I've ever made, and it destroyed me.

"But," I went on, smiling slightly to myself, "life, fate, karma, whatever it is, it has a way of getting in the way of our plans. And, in my experience, it's usually for the better.

"I hadn't had the courage to talk to your mom yet, and I was a wreck emotionally. I wanted to distract myself, so I did something that always brought me a lot of comfort; I went to a used book store.

"At the time, I was into some pretty 'out there' kinds of stuff, and I believed—and maybe I still do—the secrets of the Universe were hidden in obscure books.

"I read so many books from centuries-old monks and mystics; each one felt like I was peeling back the curtains on some hidden world.

"But, it was also always a bit much for me. I just couldn't bring myself to fully accept what these people had to say. I often wondered if they just didn't have the language to explain their ideas rationally.

"So, when I stumbled upon a particular textbook, 'The Wiley-Blackwell Handbook of Transpersonal Psychology,' I was so excited.

"Here was a new concept—well, new to me—that took a lot of the old spiritual, mystical ideas and reframed them in a psychological context.

"I was fascinated. And, it was precisely the sort of distraction I needed.

"I took it home and devoured it over a weekend. (Well, I devoured parts of it...it's a big and dense book.)

"The reality is, I could talk about this stuff for hours, but the long and short of it is: it gave me an idea. It gave me the idea that I could, using deep hypnotic states—something I was just learning—find those highly sexual parts of Marsha, those parts that came out when she was drunk or jealous.

"I could find those parts and mold them into a 'helper' a 'construct' a 'sub-personality' that would exist within your mother, and that could be brought forward when needed.

"What I didn't know, at the time, was that my idea wasn't new or unique. In fact, even back then, there were whole therapies based on these ideas. But I didn't know that, so I made it up as I went along."

Chani was wholly engrossed in my story, and for my part, I was engrossed in telling it. This undertaking was one of the most profound in my life, and yet I'd never shared the details of it with anyone.

"I called up Marsha and apologized for my cold feet. She was incredibly understanding.

"The next time I saw her, she told me that what we shared was unique and that she never doubted that I would work through whatever it was I needed to work through.

"Your mother was an incredible woman back then, and she still is today," I said, smiling at Chani. Who smiled back warmly.

"Not long after that, we moved in together with the intent of getting married. And that's when I got to work.

"It took me months of regular hypnosis sessions, but I eventually accomplished my desired goals.

"I found those sexually repressed parts of Marsha and bonded them together. I named them, empowered them, and focused them on a shared goal, Marsha's and my happiness.

"Then I worked with that aspect, Ashley. I taught her, trained her, molded her into who and what she is today.

"You saw part of the end result. You saw Ashley acting as my sexual partner...well, more of a willing, very willing, sex slave.

"But there's more. Ashley is always there, helping to manage those urges that your mother wants to deny. It makes Marsha happier, more relaxed, more confident.

"Ashely has helped your mother in many ways. It's worked out better than I ever could have hoped."

With that, I stopped and looked at Chani. She stared back at me, unreadable.

Oddly, I wasn't nervous. Neither was I cocksure; I honestly didn't know how this was going to end. But, the vibes I was getting from Chani were, at worst, neutral.

She continued staring at me for what felt like five minutes, even if it was more likely closer to one. Finally, she nodded and began to stand.

"I'm taking your car," she said, a statement of fact rather than a request.