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Gwendolyn Wilde
Mesmerized (An Erotic Hypnosis Short Story)
Mesmerized (An Erotic Hypnosis Short Story)
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Warning: This is an erotic mind control short story and contains adult content, including explicit descriptions of sex.
Melissa is a harried graduate student, with little time for relationships. But when she’s hired to investigate the mysterious hypnotherapist Dr. Ivanov, she finds out more than she bargained for. Will Melissa expose Dr. Ivanov’s misdeeds, or will she fall under his spell herself?
Excerpt from Mesmerized:
I should never have listened to that recording.
It started with a simple visualization. The rich tones of his voice echoed in the dome of my head. The image of a rose floated in the flush behind my eyelids. It was soft-chalk pink, closed in a tight bulb, like a heart. With every slow throb of my own heart, it opened a little more, steadily. The velvet petals were spreading, like soft little tongues wet with dew. I felt my muscles yielding and softening as I relaxed, my blood blooming warm under my skin. The rose curled apart, and I unfurled myself with it, and his voice grew and swelled in my mind.
I lay paralyzed. My skin vibrated with a current that felt like it could lift me, levitate me off the soft mattress. And then he took all the electricity that tingled through the warm jacket of my skin, gathered it up, clustered it. All that feeling was concentrated into one tiny spot of hot light. I could see it hovering over my abdomen. It moved, traveling over my skin in a trail of delicious titillation. When it passed over my breast, a sudden explosion of pleasure wracked me, but the light continued on.
Melissa is a harried graduate student, with little time for relationships. But when she’s hired to investigate the mysterious hypnotherapist Dr. Ivanov, she finds out more than she bargained for. Will Melissa expose Dr. Ivanov’s misdeeds, or will she fall under his spell herself?
Excerpt from Mesmerized:
I should never have listened to that recording.
It started with a simple visualization. The rich tones of his voice echoed in the dome of my head. The image of a rose floated in the flush behind my eyelids. It was soft-chalk pink, closed in a tight bulb, like a heart. With every slow throb of my own heart, it opened a little more, steadily. The velvet petals were spreading, like soft little tongues wet with dew. I felt my muscles yielding and softening as I relaxed, my blood blooming warm under my skin. The rose curled apart, and I unfurled myself with it, and his voice grew and swelled in my mind.
I lay paralyzed. My skin vibrated with a current that felt like it could lift me, levitate me off the soft mattress. And then he took all the electricity that tingled through the warm jacket of my skin, gathered it up, clustered it. All that feeling was concentrated into one tiny spot of hot light. I could see it hovering over my abdomen. It moved, traveling over my skin in a trail of delicious titillation. When it passed over my breast, a sudden explosion of pleasure wracked me, but the light continued on.
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