“He is passably cute,” I thought to myself as I sat across the Green Room from the professor. Not an Adonis, but not ugly either. And the tweed jacket with leather patches at the elbows gave him a quaint, nerdy appeal. It was just an idle notion. Though it was true that 2018 had been a bad year for me, and I needed cheering up, it hadn’t occurred to me that adding a new pet to my menagerie was the tonic I needed for 2019. Not yet, anyway.

So it was just my way of being friendly when I caught his eye and threw him a flirty wink. It was only when he snorted in derision, rolled his eyes, and looked away without acknowledging my greeting that the wheels began turning in my mind. Snubbing me is one of the surest ways to get my attention…and not in a good way.

The book clenched in his lap was titled New Discoveries in the World of Hypnosis  by Jeffrey Albert, PhD. That explained his hostility: it was professional jealousy. As an academic, he resented having to share air time with a “lay person”. The local morning show we were waiting to be interviewed by was doing a hypnosis-themed segment that day, though I had not been told of the plan when I first got their invitation.

To add insult to injury, I was slated to precede the professor on the guest couch. “Tough,” I thought, amused at his discomfort even as I resented his behavior.  I was used to condescension from these ivory tower types. Even veiled contempt. But I’d be damned if I would stand rudeness.

“You’re a psychologist?” I asked, projecting my voice at him to give him no excuse to ignore me.

He sniffed and turned to face me head-on for the first time. “A cognitive scientist,” he replied icily.

“I suppose you might have something to contribute today,” I shot back, playing straight even though my words were obviously snarky.

This got another eye roll and a noisy huff of indignation. “And what exactly are your credentials?” he demanded, all testy impatience.

“I am the Goddess Marquesa, the Queen of Erotic Hypnotists,” I replied, batting my eyelashes.

This was met with sardonic laughter. “I find that hard to believe,” he sneered. “You are much too old for that kind of work. Who would be turned on by you now?”

With those words he looked away, focusing intently on the flatscreen TV in the room that showed the broadcast in progress, telegraphing by his posture that I had ceased to exist for him. This was petty spite, of course, payback for my “contribute” jibe. Ordinarily I would have shrugged off such childishness. But maybe it was the effect of a bad year… maybe it was the bad coffee in the Green Room. I was not in a mood to forgive men their bullshit.

There was another half hour before I would be called to the set. “Oh professor…” I trilled, using my most velveteen siren tones.

He looked back at me involuntarily, and I directed my allure at him full force. This is a simple trick, really. Nothing as complicated as hypnosis. I’ve seen other women do it. But somehow men are always caught unprepared. It is a matter of focusing one’s energy, applying all of one’s awareness. It feels like reaching out with invisible hands to grab hold of a man’s id, willing him to give you his full attention.

“What’s going on?” the professor asked, surprised to find that he could not look away from me.

“You’re a poor scientist of cognition if you don’t recognize what’s happening,” I remarked without breaking concentration.

I could see that the professor did not understand my words, which was fine…he was not meant to. One minute stretched into two. His nostrils flared, his pupils dilated. Sweat broke out on his forehead. The book slipped out of his fingers and fell to the floor unnoticed. His heart must have been pounding in his ears, because his breathing became shallow and rapid. His resistance broke down quickly, and by the middle of the third minute a tent began to form in his pants as his cock swelled. That was the cue I was waiting for.

“Oh, Jeffy,” I breathed, rising from my chair slowly so that he could take in the full line of my tits, hips, and thighs, “is it getting warm in here?”

I crossed the small room, a maneuver that required only two or three steps. Kicking his book aside, I sat in the chair next to his and invaded his personal space, pressing against his shoulder and running my hand up the leg of his slacks.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?” he stuttered.

“I’m toying with you…” I whispered in his ear, eliciting a moan of arousal as the moist words tickled the sensitive membrane of his semicircular canal.

His cock twitched as my fingernails gently glided up the seam of the pants fly that covered his rigid shaft. His free hand (the one that was not pinned by my body) had begun to flap spasmodically in the air, as if he were short-circuiting, so I grabbed it and pressed it to my chest, working it rhythmically in a massaging motion so that he would feel the heft of my breast and the contours of my nipple.

His eyelids were drooping with lust, his mouth hanging open hungrily. I leaned in and kissed him artfully, combining deep soulful swallows with sharp, teasing darts of tongue and soft nibbles. I could feel his pulse racing and smell the need leaking from his pores. “Oh, yes…” he moaned. That was my second cue.

I pushed him away and went back to my original chair, wiping my mouth daintily with one index finger and brushing my hair back into place.

“Urggh…” he grunted, falling out of his chair to his knees, wincing painfully as the crotch seam of his pants pulled against his erect cock.  “Please…please… you…please…” he begged incoherently, too disoriented to even know what he needed, much less ask for it coherently.

“Sorry, professor,” I said, “it is almost time for me to go on set.”

“Oh, God…ugh!” This thought got choked off as he lost his balance and fell to the floor, where he lay in the fetal position quivering from head to toe.  “What….what’s happening to me?” he croaked.

“You’re trembling with desire for Me,” I explained.

“H-have you h-h-hypnotized me?”

“No, silly pet. I’ve just used my womanly wiles to make your blood boil a bit.”

I got up from my chair, stood over him, and circled his prone form slowly, giving him a nice view of my ankles and calves. The sight of my legs made his trembling more violent. A slight stain of pre-cum began to form on the bulge in his trousers. One of his hands groped down to adjust his aching testacles, the other groped in vain to touch my calf. I rested a hand on my hip and surveyed my work with satisfaction. No matter how many times I reduce a man to this state, the sight never becomes boring.

“Pl-please. Help me. I can’t go on television like this,” he pleaded.

“I’m afraid there is nothing to be done. Weeks of lovemaking on a deserted island might begin to take the edge off of this craving, but I’ve neither the time nor the inclination. The pleasure for me was entirely in creating this need in you, there’s none to be had in relieving it.”

“Why?” he cried, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Why do this?”

“Call it a New Year’s Resolution,” I explained.  “After all, better late than never!” “I’ve decided not to take any shit from assholes this year. Like most resolutions I’ll probably slack off a bit….. but you had the misfortune of being my first asshole of 2019.”

“Have mercy,” he implored, desperation making his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole. Please, please forgive me…my publisher will be furious if I don’t do this promotional interview.”

“Well….” I said, putting on my best “reasonable” tone. “I suppose I could use hypnosis to help stop your trembling.”

“Yes!” he cried. “Please do it! Put me under! I’ll submit willingly to your suggestion…”

My interview that day went well with the perky morning hosts. I laced my answers with just enough sexy innuendo to keep it entertaining, not enough to require that the kids be hustled away from the TV. Jeffy’s interview was less successful. The hosts were confused when he could only answer questions by barking and growling, and had to cut to commercial early. I had been true to my word, however- he did not tremble once.

The interview hurt Jeffy’s credibility, and his book sales suffered. But that has not stopped him seeking my services as a hypnodomme.  It is no wonder, really. In almost all cases, either having my allure cast on him or being hypnotized by me is enough to make a man fall hopelessly in love with me, and Jeffy experienced both in quick succession. The relationship has not been as rewarding for me as I imagined it might be when I first noticed how cute he was in the Green Room. But on the up side, he does have a very soft, pliable tongue. And I have saved significantly on toilet paper. Perhaps the signs are good that 2019 will be a better year after all.

The End