The Sorcerer's Apprentice

This story is humbly dedicated to Lucian. Two millenia ago, he wrote a tale of Ancient Egypt we know today as 'The Sorcerer's Apprentice.'

"Oh, darling. Not tonight. I'm so tired." Belinda smiled sleepily at her husband. Once again, his fingers had been roving over her body in an obvious attempt to initiate sex. Now those fingers stopped and withdrew. Simon fought to hide his feelings from his pretty wife. That's the third time she's said 'no' this week, he thought bitterly. That matched last week's record. The week before had been her 'time of the month', as she coyly put it. (Period, dammit. They're called periods by anyone who's not caught up in some late-Victorian guilt complex about sex.) "I've managed to make love to my wife just twice this month so far," he concluded bitterly. He lay back on the bed and tried to settle down to sleep.

Belinda snuggled up to him in her customary sleeping posture. She was as content as Simon was frustrated. Wonderful husband, nice home, great job, enough friends and a satisfactory social life - yes, things were working out just fine. Both were young - early thirties - and healthy. In a couple of years, she and Simon would have saved up enough to start a family. All things considered, Belinda saw nothing to disturb the even tranquillity of her life. Well, maybe if Simon was not so persistent in bed. She did her duty to satisfy her husband's physical desires. If only his appetite matched hers! Still, it was such a minor problem, even if he did go on about it at times. She drifted off in her husband's arms.

Simon found sleep did not come easily that night. He lay in bed, staring into the darkness. What on earth was Belinda driving at? What did she want him to do? Was he supposed to use porn magazines and masturbate his urges away, as he had done before marriage? Was she giving him a tacit 'green light' to get a mistress or girlfriend? Sighing, he put these ideas to one side and faced up to the truth: Belinda did not give a moment's thought to his perspective. There was no problem so far as she was concerned, so therefore there was no problem. It's not that Belinda was a selfish cow or anything like that: she just lacked the necessary imagination. He dozed off.

The next evening, Belinda was out at one of her evening classes - history of art, or something. Simon was alone and home and surfing the net. It was becoming a habit of his to browse through one or two of the adult 'chat lines', just to have a snigger at the vapid, disjointed conversations. Tonight, just for a change, the chatroom was not dominated by males making vain attempts to chat up the females. Everyone was discussing a problem. A very familiar problem, as Simon realised. What happens when one partner's sexual appetite outstrips the other partner's appetite? The conversation went round in circles, as it usually does. Still, Simon thought, at least I am not the only one with this problem.

He was thinking about logging off when a new arrival, calling himself Phil, calmly announced that he had the solution. It was a system based on hypnosis. It was tried and tested, and it worked. Some people believed him and were agog to find out more. Others reckoned he has been trying some illegal substances before logging on. Phil was bombarded with questions and sceptical statements.

The only response Phil made, when things started to calm down a bit, was that he was an academic in Cambridge. No, not Cambridge, Massachusetts but Cambridge, England. Simon sat bolt upright. Someone who claimed to have a solution to his problem lived just fifteen miles away! Simon took a deep breath and tapped in, "I live in Huntingdon. I'd like to hear more. Fancy dinner at the Langoustine in Grantchester? My treat." The bait was laid. Academics in Blair's Britain were notoriously underpaid. Would one really pass up the chance to have a free meal at a fashionable, expensive restaurant?

A minute passed. Then Simon's heart gave a leap as he read, "Fine. 8pm tomorrow?" Simon confirmed the arrangements and logged off, breathless.

The next evening, Simon and Phil met. Phil seemed a bit young to be a lecturer, but no matter. The conversation went like a dream.
Phil explained his method, which was behaviour modification based on a system of positive reinforcement. That is, a social habit was established in the subject, using hypnosis. This habit was given sexual connotations to the subject. The habit could be anything from walking down a particular street to drinking a glass of orange juice. As the habit was indulged, the sexual appetite was stimulated. Sexual pleasure helped to establish and buttress the habit. Habit and sexual pleasure acted together, each reinforcing the other. What's more, the subject would not connect the habit with the change in sexdrive. It all worked - well, in theory anyway.

Simon was puzzled. "I thought you said it was tried and tested?"

Sheepishly, Phil had to admit it was only theory. Then it all tumbled out. He was not actually an academic at the University, just a Psychology Ph.D. student. Still, it ought to work, and there was no reason why it shouldn't, and....

Phil's voice trailed away and he stared at the table, unable to look Simon in the eye. For a moment, Simon was furious, then he remembered the advice his business school lecturers had drummed into him: "Never react prematurely. Consider the upside and downside to every proposition." If the kid was right, then this would be the answer to his prayers. If the kid was wrong (and he probably was), then what did he have to lose, apart from a little time and a mildly embarrassing explanation?

Rapidly, Simon sketched out his problems with Belinda. Could Phil's system help? Yes, no problem. Was Phil willing to help? He was: he needed a trial like this to be able to prove his theory. There should be no problem in finding a couple of controls for the experiment. There were plenty of women in the faculty where Phil worked: a couple of them should be perfectly happy to act as the necessary contrast. Of course, Simon would need to keep a diary of what happened...? No problem.

Now, what habit should they choose? Phil's view was that it should be something quick, simple, unobtrusive and socially acceptable. It should also be something that Belinda would not do of her own accord, or something that other people might encourage her to do..... They thought for a few minutes.

Absentmindedly, Simon pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. Phil watched and an idea occurred to him.

"Does Belinda smoke?"

"No. I suppose she experimented in her teens as we all do, and her parents both smoked, but she doesn't. She's no anti-smoking Nazi, but I suppose it just doesn't appeal all that much."

"It could be perfect. It's quick, it's something unremarkable, and it's something she would never do of her own accord. Just so long as you don't overdo it, so she becomes hooked."

Simon frowned. "How would it work?"

"I implant a trigger phrase into her subconscious, which will make her smoke. All you have to do is use the phrase."

"Can you make it so that she will respond only to the phrase from me? Somebody else could say it by accident."

"No." Phil grinned. "Contrary to what you read in science fiction books, the human mind is not that discriminating. We'll just have to fix on a phrase that is obscure enough, yet not so outlandish as to make you sound like Svengali to eavesdroppers. Ummm..." Phil looked at the cigarette packet on the table between them. "How about, 'Would you like a Dunhill?' That would work."

The next problem was how to get Belinda hypnotised so the trigger phrase could be implanted. Phil's college had a formal dinner coming up, so he suggested that Simon and Belinda should come as his guests. After dinner, they would go to Phil's rooms, where everything would be assembled. No, don't worry, no drugs would be involved. It's all done by suggestion straight to the mind.

They were getting their coats on when a thought occurred to Simon. He wanted Belinda to enjoy their new sexlife too. "Could you arrange it so that Belinda has an orgasm at the same time as me?" Phil smiled, and thought that simultaneous orgasm should not be difficult to arrange. However, it could not be specifcally linked to Simon. The trigger would have to be when Belinda felt a penis ejaculating in her. So if Belinda ever took a lover, he would have quite a surprise! With that, they shook hands and parted.

Belinda was thrilled at the thought of a college dinner. This particular college was world-renowned for the quality of its cuisine and wine cellar. She did not know their host, Phil. Still, Simon knew so many people through business and his clubs, so she was not surprised. They had a delightful dinner. Phil seemed a little young and ill-at-ease, but otherwise he was easy enough to get along with. He was not very forthcoming about his work, so Belinda assumed it was either very complicated or very secret.

After dinner, she was relaxed and a little tipsy, so she thought nothing of accompanying Simon to Phil's rooms for a nightcap. There, the subject got around to hypnotism. Phil shyly revealed that he was an amateur hypnotist - "just a party trick." Had Simon ever been hypnotised? Yes, he had. On his stag night, he woke up to discover himself walking down Huntingdon high street dressed in a ballet dancer's tutu. After the shout of laughter subsided, Phil asked Belinda the same question. No, she hadn't. Would she like to have a go? Simon encouraged her, assuring her in mock seriousness that he would make sure she did not become the victim of a practical joke. Shyly, she agreed.

Simon fought to conceal the great surge of joy within him.

Phil sat Belinda down at his computer terminal, put headphones on her head and started a program. Belinda, relaxed as she was, found it easy to watch the screen and listen to the voice. She felt herself drifting off on a magic carpet.....

After twenty minutes Phil removed the headphones. "Belinda, can you hear me?"

"Yes." Her voice was soft and distant.

Phil carried out a couple of tests to make sure she really was hypnotised, and not just sleepy or shamming. Once satisfied, he told her to listen to a set of instructions. He replaced the headphones and activated a different program. Half an hour later, he removed them.

"Belinda, when I clap my hands, you will wake up. Your only memory of being hypnotised will be floating on a little pink cloud." He clapped his hands and Belinda woke up with a start.

"How do you feel?" Simon asked his wife.

"Fine. It was lovely. So relaxing," smiled Belinda.

Simon looked at his watch. It was getting late, they had to get home. They thanked Phil for a lovely evening and left.

Simon could not wait to try things out, but he was mindful of Phil's advice to take things slowly.

The next evening, neither Simon nor Belinda had anything planned, so they enjoyed a leisurely dinner at home. Afterwards, they cuddled up on the settee together over a cup of coffee. Simon took out his cigarettes, as he usually did and took one out. He paused, and took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing," he thought.

"Darling, would you like a Dunhill?"

"Mmmm, that would be nice." She took one out of the proffered packet and put it to her lips as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He lit hers and then his. They sat together, smoking and drinking coffee. Okay, she was not inhaling, but she smoked as though she had done it all her life. She gave no hint that she was becoming sexually aroused. Simon was left with a distinct feeling of anticlimax.

Half an hour later, Simon suggested an early night. Belinda agreed. In bed that night, he started petting her. She responded and they ended up making love. As he came, Belinda also had an orgasm - her first ever. This surprised her, but she decided it was "nice".
With that, they settled down to sleep.

Simon was thrilled. His problems, he felt, were over.

***

Over the next few weeks, Simon got Belinda to smoke two or three times a week. He was determined not to overdo things. The sex afterwards was hardly porn-film standard, but satisfying enough. Belinda was now accustomed to having an orgasm every time they made love. In fact, she looked forward to it.

The only other changes Simon saw in Belinda were that she was now inhaling, and giving every sign that she enjoyed smoking. She was also dressing a little more daringly than usual, and her kisses when they said hello and goodbye were becoming more than just a good-natured peck on the lips. Simon observed and approved of these developments.

Six weeks after the college dinner, Belinda suggested that they treat themselves to another meal out. Simon, anxious to reward his lovely wife, agreed. They went to a large, posh hotel in the countryside, a few miles north of Huntingdon. They chatted amiably over dinner and a couple of glasses of wine. After, they adjourned to the lounge for coffee. Belinda sat opposite her husband, with the coffee table between them.

"Darling, aren't you going to offer me a cigarette?"

He looked up in surprise from the packet in his hand. "You'd like one?" She nodded, her ruby lips pursed in amusement.

He shrugged. "Would you like a Dunhill?" She leant across to take one. As she did so, Simon looked down the front of her dress and noticed that she was definitely not wearing a bra. This was unusual.

His lighter ignited both their cigarettes, and they settled back in their seats. Then Belinda did something extraordinary. She crossed her legs, so the ankle of one leg was sitting on the thigh of the other. Her dress had ridden up, so now he was getting a perfect view between her legs. It was only too obvious that she was not wearing any knickers either. She looked at him, smiling and smoking.
For one horrific moment, Simon wondered if anyone behind him was benefiting from the free show his wife was putting on. With a gust of relief, he remembered that his chair was up against the wall.

Belinda had steered him to these seats when they came in from the restaurant. The cunning little minx - she had planned this all evening!

Simon smiled. "That's quite a little show you're putting on. Are you suggesting something by any chance?"

"Peut-être."

After they had finished their coffee and cigarettes, she led him by the hand to the open French windows and the warm, balmy night beyond. Out of sight of everyone else, she pinned him to a tree with her body. "I want you to have me. Now," she hissed. With that, she yanked down his zip and fished around for his cock. She pulled it out into the night air and squatted down in front of it. For three ecstatic seconds, she kissed and engulfed his cock with her mouth. Not altogether surprisingly, it was hard and ready for action.

She stood up, to his regret, and positioned herself between Simon and the tree. She yanked up her dress. "Righty-ho, big boy. Away you go." Simon needed no further urging. He pushed himself into her aroused pussy. Almost immediately, he started to cum.

Naturally, she did so too. She buried her head into his shoulders to muffle her cries of joy as the orgasm coursed through her body.
As their heart-rates started to return to normal, he cradled her head in his hands and looked at her. "Wow," was all he could say. He slipped out of her, so she reordered her dress and set off to 'powder her nose' before his cum started to leak out of her pussy.

Afterwards, they set off for home in a very satisfied silence.

On the way, Simon asked her, "That was terrific, and I loved it. But it's not something you've ever done before. What made you do it?"

"Oh, occasionally, I have little, um, daydreams. I never thought I would ever have the guts to try it out for real, but tonight I did."

"How do you feel?"

She smiled widely. "Wonderful. I can't think why we never tried it before."

This gave Simon an idea. Did Belinda have a latent exhibitionist streak? He resolved to find out. A couple of nights later, he suggested going off to a country pub he and Belinda visited occasionally, just for a drink after dinner. It took a certain amount of persuasion, as the night was a little rainy. Eventually, they set off on the short drive to the pub. Simon chose that particular pub because the lighting was fairly subdued. Also, there were plenty of inglenooks, alcoves where they could sit in relative privacy. What was more, the pub would probably be relatively quiet on that weekday evening.

A few minutes later, they were seated side-by-side in a cosy inglenook with their drinks in front of them. Simon ostentatiously pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of a pocket and put them on the table in front of him. Simon teased Belinda by ignoring the cigarettes for a few minutes while they chatted. He asked her how she felt about their escapade in the hotel. Had she changed her mind? To his relief, she felt no guilt - just a feeling of enjoyment from the adrenaline 'rush'. Of course, the sex had been more than satisfactory too. The old Belinda would never have talked so openly about sex: the new Belinda spoke about it as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Simon made his move. He took a cigarette and lit it. He paused, then said the trigger phrase to his wife. Once her cigarette was lit, he snuggled up to her, with his free hand resting on her thigh under the table. Slowly, he pulled her dress up until his hand was resting on her bare skin. Her only reaction was to giggle a little and wriggle in her seat. Now his hand made its way up her thigh, under her dress, towards her pussy. Her only reaction was to look round, to make sure no one was looking. As his fingers closed in on her pussy, he leaned over and gently kissed her.

She took a long puff and exhaled slowly as he gently rubbed her moistening knickers with his fingers. She slumped back in her seat, legs splayed, eyes closed.

"Mmmm, that's nice, just a little faster, yessss," she murmured.

After a couple of minutes, she tensed up and moaned gently as she came. She opened her eyes and looked at her husband. She took a drag off her cigarette and smiled. "That was lovely."

They smoked in silence until their cigarettes were finished. She smiled at Simon. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she cooed seductively, her hand now resting on top of the telltale bulge in Simon's crotch. He smiled. After another quick look round, she unzipped Simon and brought his cock out. She wrapped her hand round it.

"Why not use your mouth?" Simon was pushing his luck here, but what the hell? To his surprise, Belinda bend over and, without missing a beat, put the tip of his cock into her mouth. Simon stared. To the best of his knowledge, she had never done this to him or any other man before. She moved he head up and down, fucking Simon with her lips and tongue. Things moved fast: after just a couple of minutes he warned her that he was about to come. She did not stop until she could feel the warm cum flooding her mouth.

She panicked for a moment, as it dawned on her that she had nowhere to put Simon's cum. Mentally she shrugged, and solved her problem by swallowing. To her surprise, it was nothing like as bad as she thought it might be.

She zipped Simon up again, smiled demurely at him and took a swig of her drink. Simon felt he really ought to say something.

"Thanks," was the best he could do.

She kissed him gently and cuddled up to him. "We must do that again sometime," she murmured.

Simon liked the new, uninhibited Belinda. If she was willing to suck his cock in public, what else might she do, given a little 'encouragement'? He suggested trying different sex positions: even without a cigarette beforehand, she was enthusiastic. It was as they were drifting off to sleep one night that she told him, apropos of nothing, that her favourite position was doggie-style. "I love lying there, with my arse in the air, when you ram your cock into my cunt," she murmured. Three months earlier, a former Belinda would rather have died than use four-letter words.