22. The Trance
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE TRANCE
Orion
Watching Layla place her palms on her thighs and look down demurely, all while wearing that fucking dress. The virginal white, with its innocent eyelet pattern, and the way it shows off just enough to drive me crazy, but not enough to be vulgar.
I am so, so fucked.
Leaning forward, I pull her contract closer as I attempt to disguise my shaking hands. I was so sure she’d figure out who I was as soon as I walked into the room. She slowed down a bit when she was walking over, and I braced myself for it—for her reaction.
Instead, her eyes roved over my body before she kneeled before me. I know Layla is good at hiding how she’s feeling, but if she knew it was me, she would’ve said something. Right?
I flick through the pages as Layla sits completely still in front of the desk. It’s quiet except when I turn over the pages. Her answers surprise me. She’s open to a lot more than I expected.
Never would’ve guessed my stepsister would circle anal play as a possibility, but here we are.
I’m already hard. Once I see that she’s signed and dated it, I set it down, crack my knuckles, and stand. Walking around the table, I stop when I’m next to her, and place a hand on her shoulder, tapping her soft skin twice.
“Eyes on me tonight, Layla. For the sake of being able to sign,” I tell her with my hands.
Her pupils are darker now. She nods once, and when her eyes meet mine, there’s something fiery and anticipatory in her expression.
“I noticed you marked no for food play, as well as no on any terminology having to do with your body. Can you please elaborate?”
This must surprise her because her teeth drag her lower lip into her mouth as her eyes widen.
“Um …”
I crouch down so that we’re eye level. “ This is where my communication clause comes into play for a scene. You don’t need to tell me more than you’re comfortable with, but I’d like to get an idea of your firm boundaries before we begin, and with things like this, it’s important for me to understand your medical history.”
She looks down at the ground, so I reach out and tap her twice on the shoulder.
“Eyes on me .”
“I’m in recovery for an eating disorder,” she admits, eyes clear and resolute.
Even though I know this, hearing her say it still makes my chest ache.
“It started about ten years ago when I began dancing professionally as a ballet dancer. I’d been dancing for nearly a decade at that point, but I auditioned for a children’s ballet and was told I was too curvy to be cast in the ballet repertoire they were running. From there, it grew—I began restricting. Printing pictures of Audrey Hepburn and other women as ‘thinspo,’ and taping them on my bedroom wall.”
She swallows, and I’m riveted. I never knew any of this.
I wish I did.
I wish I’d noticed.
“Thanks to my stepmother, I started seeing a therapist. She noticed my habits. I stopped restricting myself to six hundred calories a day. And it’s taken time, but I’ve mostly recovered from body dysmorphia. I don’t own a scale, and I practice intuitive eating. I haven’t restricted in years. But I don’t think I’d be very receptive to any degrading terms about my body.”
“That’s more than enough information. Thank you for telling me.” Trailing a hand down her bare shoulder, I smile behind my mask when her skin pebbles. “ You are perfect. Your body is…” I shift my weight. “ Let’s just say, everything about you is everything I could ever want in a submissive.”
She swallows.
“I thought we could try erotic hypnosis today ,” I sign. “ You might have gathered that from the name of the room”.
“I did,” she says softly.
“It’ll be easier if I use my voice.”
“That’s fine,” she whispers.
I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
“Please stand and walk to the couch.”
I make my voice lower than normal—slower.
I watch her face for a reaction, but there’s nothing. She just flicks her eyes up to mine as she pushes into a standing position before walking to the couch. Moving her purse to one of the side tables, she sits down all prim and proper.
Fuck.
I’d give anything to corrupt her while she wears that dress and those sneakers. She’s so pure.
Or at least she wants everyone to think that.
“Lie down and get comfortable,” I tell her, keeping my voice an octave lower than I’m used to.
She kicks her shoes off and lies down, resting her hands on her stomach and crossing her legs like she’s in an actual therapy session.
“Before we begin, we have to establish trust. As for a safe word, I think we should continue with the traffic light system. Can you tell me what they mean?”
“Red means stop the scene, yellow means pause and talk, and green means keep going.”
I smile. “In more or less words, yes.” I walk over to where she’s lying down. “Another part of this is trust. Do you trust me, Layla?”
“Yes.”
I want to ask her why she trusts a stranger, but I don’t. “You need to trust me. You need to know my voice. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Master.”
“The main idea of erotic hypnosis is to dominate. Most Dominants are interested in physical domination. I am interested in mental domination.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. “So we’re not going to—” Her throat bobs as she swallows, and I smile underneath my mask.
“I never said this session wouldn’t get physical.”
“But your soft limit… it said no penetration.”
I crouch down next to the couch. “It’s a soft limit for a reason. I don’t want to rule it out, but it’s not my default.” Her eyes rake between my eyes in search of more information. When I lean closer, it’s hard not to touch her—hard not to think of making her pliant and willing beneath me as I pound into her. “With you? I don’t think I can stay away.”
I run one of my hands along her bare leg, and we both shudder at the contact.
“I’m going to take control of your thoughts. I’m going to make you do whatever I want you to, so I’m going to ask one last time, do you trust me, Layla?”
Her eyes widen, and she turns to face me. “Is that possible? To make me do whatever you want?”
“Yes, it’s possible. You will become powerless against my dominance. Do you understand?”
She swallows. “Yes, Master.”
“Good. Close your eyes.”
She does, and I sit back on my heels. “Today, just listen to my voice. Do as I say. And you will be rewarded. If you don’t listen, you will be punished.”
A visible shiver goes through her.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, Master.”
I crack my knuckles again and begin speaking.
“Start by taking a long, slow, deep breath.”
She does, her chest rising and falling slowly.
“Another one.”
I can see the tension leaving her body.
“You feel so good. It feels so good when you breathe in, pushing the stress out with each exhale. You’re sinking deeper and deeper. Follow my voice and let go of everything. It feels so good to let go of everything. Let my voice sink into the deepest, darkest places of your mind. Your air is my air. I own every single sensation within your body. You like playing with me, don’t you? Take another deep breath. Surrender to me completely, Layla.”
I repeat the same sorts of lines over and over, watching her body sink into the couch, watching the crease between her eyebrows relax completely.
Her hands unfurl, slacking at her side, and her legs go from tightly crossed to loosened, opening slightly.
“Imagine that with every inhale, you’re drawing pleasure in, and with each exhale, you’re letting go of everything around you. Each wave of pleasure feels better than the last. Focus on my voice, Layla. Don’t think about anything else. Your body feels warm. You have no desire to move. You’re doing so good. Keep listening to my voice. Feel the heat puddling around your hips, down your legs, and now your entire body fills with pleasure. You want to let me into your mind, infusing you with my control. You have one purpose—to serve me, and to serve my needs. Such a good fucking girl.”
Her breathing hitches, and my cock thickens inside my pants as she rolls her hips once. What I wouldn’t give to sink into her tight heat right now.
“You’re such a good little slut. I can see you starting to writhe on the couch. Doesn’t it feel so good to be used by me? To please me? You want to be a good girl. More importantly, you need to be a good girl for your Master.”
I stand and walk around to the foot of the couch.
“You’re going to obey and let me sink into your subconscious. You’re warm now, and your cunt is starting to seep, isn’t it? You’re so good at serving me. You feel your body sinking into the couch. You’re happy here. Your pleasure is completely under my control. And when I’m in control of you, you are free to relax, but you will not come unless I tell you to. You like it when I talk to you like my dirty little cumslut, don’t you?”
She whimpers, and I ignore the way my cock pulses, the blood rushing to my erection. It’s hard to think—hard to do anything other than watch my stepsister start to pant.
“I want you to put your hand between your thighs. Can you feel your pulse there?”
Her hand moves between her legs.
“Imagine how good it would feel if I let you pleasure yourself. Gliding your fingers across every sensitive nerve ending. If I told you to do it, you would. Not yet, Little Dancer. You’re here for me. Keep your fingers against your throbbing clit. Do not move them. Wait for my command. I want you to think of how the rest of your body feels. How your nipples tighten. How your legs ache because you’re trying to hold them together like a good girl. How your cunt aches with arousal. How you can feel it between your thighs. Even without moving your hand, I can see how responsive you are to me. Do not move.”
She gasps, and her hand between her legs twitches as she arches her back, but she doesn’t move her hand.
“Good girl.”
She lets out a low moan, and I chuckle as I look down at my stepsister losing her mind on the couch right in front of me.
I learned about erotic hypnosis a few months ago. The concept of putting someone in a trance, making them come on command, or extending an orgasm all appealed to me as a sadistic Dominant. It’s like magic—being able to control their nervous system and watch as they lose control completely.
In a way, it feels like brainwashing, and I shouldn’t enjoy it as much as I do. But I do. I enjoy it very much. Exploring someone’s limits—exploring my limits—is fascinating.
Even with enthusiastic consent, women still put their trust in me completely. Little do they know, with hypnosis, I can hack and modify their desires. I can interpret something they say as entirely different. I won’t cross the boundaries of a hard limit, but everything else is on the table during a session.
I enjoy the control.
Overriding someone’s will, watching as they resist, watching their face as I push past it—in a consensual way, of course. It’s a lot of fucking fun watching them mentally wrestle with my commands.
I walk to the head of the couch.
“Focus on the heavy sensation of your hand on your clit. You can push down now, but no other touching. You can feel the arousal building, can’t you? Getting wet for your Master.”
She twitches at that.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Or maybe you’d prefer to drop to your knees and serve me like the perfect little fucktoy that you are? You love worshipping me as you take me into your mouth. Sucking every last drop. My greedy girl,” I purr.
Layla arches her back again, but her hand stays still.
“You’re being such a good girl. Focus on my voice. Relax. Imagine sinking even deeper into the couch. Feel the pleasure coil deeper. Feel the way your body throbs, the way you need the friction of my cock. You’re under my power, unable to move.”
She moans, and her head rolls back slightly.
“You’re such a good girl. Such a good whore. Purely for my pleasure. You can feel the pleasure pulling you closer to the edge. Shock waves of pleasure, over, and over, and over.”
Layla shudders, moaning again as she squeezes her eyes closed tighter.
“My own personal sex toy. It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? Focus on that pleasure. I want you to feel it. Your skin, your lips, your nipples, your clit, your toes… do you feel the desire flowing through you? It’s overwhelming. But I want you to remove your hand from your clit and hold it six inches above your body.”
She whimpers, a crease forming between her brows as she removes her hand from between her thighs, holding it up. Her hips roll once in search of friction. I memorize the way her nipples are hard and taut against the white eyelet material, the way she swallows, the way her lips part in ecstasy.
“That’s it. Just out of reach. Can you feel the warmth? The heat coming from your cunt? I want you to imagine your hand pushing that pleasure from the palm of your hand to the spot where you need it most. Sink deeper into the couch. Allow your body to feel how wet you are, how engorged your clit is, how needy you are for your Master. Every cell inside your body is screaming for a release, isn’t it? You crave it. You want it, more than air. But you’re a good girl, aren’t you? You won’t touch yourself unless I give you permission.”
She whines.
“I love it when you obey me, Layla.” I drop to my knees next to her face, letting my eyes take in the sweat gathering on her brow, the way her chest heaves like she’s running a marathon. The small crease between her eyes—the way she looks like she’s being tortured.
Her arm shakes—the task of holding it up isn’t easy.
“You’re such a good girl. The perfect vessel for me, for my commands, a willing recipient of my dominance. Such a perfect submissive. So subservient. You’re blossoming before me, like a flower—you crave my voice, my commands. Your submission grows deeper with each inhale. Your arousal grows with each exhale— my arousal. You are mine, and your submission is my greatest pleasure. Every time you hear these words, your body will respond. And your mind will surrender. Let these words resonate with you. You are mine. You will always be mine.”
I clasp my hands behind my back to keep from touching her.
To keep from sliding a finger through her folds to see how wet she is.
If I touch her, I won’t be able to stop.
“You’re such a good fucking sex toy. You want me to use you. You are under my control. You’ve done so well. So obedient. So dedicated. You’re perfect. I’m going to bring you out of the trance now. You can keep any of my suggestions or let them fade away. Come back. Come back to me, Little Dancer. Wake up. Now. ”
Her eyes fly open, and I’m inches away from her flushed face. She gasps, and her eyes are nearly black. Blinking rapidly, she searches my mask and then utters the one word that makes my heart stop.
“ Orion. ”