“You’re trembling. You’ve recently had a traumatic experience,” Doctor Weiss said.

        “Yes,” Robert replied.

        “Let’s talk about it,” Weiss encouraged from behind where Robert lay. “Try to relax.”

        Robert complied, willing himself to loosen his tense muscles and ease into the welcoming leather cushions of the reclining couch. As a psychologist himself he knew that therapy was only valuable if engaged in the right frame of mind. Like most psychoanalysts Robert submitted to therapy with a colleague as a matter of professional due diligence. His weekly sessions with Dr. Weiss were usually routine, a way to examine his own consciousness and confront any thoughts and feelings that might interfere with his own practice. Today, however, was different. Today he had real issues of his own to work through.

        “It happened during my research on erotic hypnotists.”

        “Oh?” Weiss interjected, signaling that Robert had the doctor’s attention.

        “I’ve been meeting scads of them. Almost all of them are frauds. They pose an interesting study in the psychology of sexual fetish, but almost none of them know anything about hypnosis in particular or human consciousness more generally.”

        “And this disappointed you?”

        “Not really. I am a scientist, after all. I approached the work with the same clinical detachment I bring to all my research.”

        “So where did you encounter a problem?” Weiss asked, expressing a mixture of curiosity and mild impatience.

        “It was with the last subject I interviewed. Goddess Marquesa. At least, that is what she calls herself.”

        “Aha.”

        “She came to be interviewed in my office,” Robert continued. “She is very attractive, but that is not unusual. Many of the women who style themselves ‘erotic hypnotists’ are quite beautiful, but below the surface they lack substance. I suppose I assumed this would be the case with Goddess Marquesa.”

        “Did you tell her as much?”

        “No, of course not. But I think she must have picked it up from my manner. As our interview began she wore a Mona Lisa smile, as if she knew something that was going to surprise me. I began running through routine questions, treating her as I would any other subject. After a few minutes she interrupted me.

        “‘Have you ever been hypnotized, Doctor?’ she asked

        “‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it is standard practice in psychotherapy.’

        “‘But have you ever undergone erotic hypnosis?’ she prodded. ‘Would you like to experience it?’”

        Here Robert’s voice trailed off. His hand trembled.

        “I’m sorry,” he continued. “The memories….Where was I? Oh, yes. She had asked if I would like to experience erotic hypnosis. She wasn’t the first subject to make this offer. I had agreed to allow a few of them to try to hypnotize me. None had succeeded. By the time I met Goddess Marquesa I suppose my professional snobbery had been confirmed. I brushed off her offer rather rudely, saying something like, ‘That won’t be necessary for my research,’ or perhaps even, ‘I don’t think that would be very instructive.’”

        Robert paused again. His trembling became more pronounced.

        “Go on,” Dr. Weiss said encouragingly.

        “She was offended, though at first I was too obtuse to notice. I hadn’t looked up at her when I made my remark, or indeed for much of the interview up to that point. I was too focused on jotting down information, eyes glued to my notebook. She was silent for a few seconds after I had spoken; the only sound was of my pen scratching away. Then she said, ‘Look into my eyes, Doctor.’”  

        Robert stopped his account, swallowing hard. “May I have some water?” he asked.

        “Of course,” said Weiss, pouring a glass and handing it to the patient.

        Robert gulped a few swallows of the cool liquid, then set the glass down half-empty.

        “What happened next?” prodded Weiss.

        “I obeyed her. I had no choice. Her voice was….irresistible…overpowering. One second I was intent on taking notes, the next I was staring deeply into her emerald green eyes. She began speaking to me. I don’t remember what she said, I only remember the way it made me feel…”

        “Go on,” encouraged Weiss.

            “I became very relaxed, at the same time very concentrated. My sense of where I was fell away. The particulars of the space and time around me grew hazy….except for her. Everything about her came into exquisitely sharp focus…” 

Robert swallowed, his voice rasped as he continued, “…Her lush blonde hair. Her shapely arms. Her gorgeous legs. Her elegantly classic face, like the visage of Athena or Aphrodite from myth. Her inviting lips. Her full, perfect breasts. And her eyes….Oh, God, her eyes….They drew me in relentlessly. I felt my consciousness narrow to a needle-fine point, like I would never be able to look away. And then….then….”

“Then what?” Weiss prompted.

“Then I could feel her inside my mind,” Robert finally managed to gasp, his words quavering. “I know it is mad to say. I know that as a scientist I should disbelieve…but I felt her. There were no words…that is…she kept speaking, but her words were not what I felt inside me. It was a presence…an energy. It was as if her spirit had penetrated inside my head to find the soft, erogenous tissue of my mind, and begun to rub it, stroke it…..Ohhh…” The memory elicited an involuntary groan from deep in Robert’s diaphragm. His eyes narrowed. “It felt soooo good. Sooo good. She was tinkering with my consciousness. Moving things around. Shuffling my thoughts, my feelings, so I….so I….”

“Yes?” questioned Weiss, leaning forward to catch the next words.

“I could feel her making me fall in love with her,” Robert continued, his voice rising in pitch and intensity as he spoke.  “I know…as a psychologist I can hear how mad it sounds. But it happened. She made it happen. Whatever love is…whatever changes it makes in your mind….your soul…she conjured them in mine. I resisted…I tried to stop myself from falling under her spell. But she is too powerful. Too sublime…too…too….magnificent!”

Robert’s throat closed, making a strangled sob escape his lips. Tears flowed down his face. He buried his face in his hands.

“Calm down,” Weiss soothed. “This is a safe place. You can unburden yourself here.”

Robert composed himself. “As she held me in her gaze,” he resumed, “I began to see images in my mind. At first they were just inchoate desires. I wanted to touch her, to taste her so badly. To feel her lips against mine. To run my hands over her silky legs. To suck her nipples…” Robert trembled, wiped sweat from his brow. “But then the images became more elaborate, more…more…cinematic….” Robert broke off his account, his lips moving silently.

“What is it, Robert?” Weiss asked. “What upsets you so?”

“It’s just that…,” Robert began his reply, “…these were fantasies….yearnings….I had never imagined or been aware of before. Their strangeness shocked me…”

“Psychoanalysis is as much about self-discovery as healing others, you know that, Robert.”

“Yes…but….to discover that I have been such a stranger to myself….it frightened me. If those close to me knew….If she knew….if she ever guessed at the contents of the Pandora’s box she had opened inside me….”

“Yes?” Weiss prodded.

“….she could own me completely. She could make me her slave.”

Weiss muffled a chuckle. “Surely you’re exaggerating, Robert. Fantasies don’t hold that kind of power.”

“You don’t understand,” Robert protested, his voice straining with tension, “these fantasies all centered on her. I saw myself naked except for a pink lace apron, waiting on her as she dined. Kneeling by her as she sat on the toilet, ready to clean her with my tongue when she rose. Trussed like a pig, lying at her feet as she lashed me with a leather belt.”

“These are all punishment visions,” Weiss offered gently, “your way of subconsciously chastising yourself for having been manipulated.”

“No,” Robert disagreed, “they were wish-fulfillments. Many of them involved pleasure, not pain. I saw myself bent over, moaning with ecstasy as she penetrated my anus with a strap-on dildo. Blindfolded and chained to a wall as she teasingly licked my nipples with the tip of her tongue….and…..”

“And?” Weiss asked.

“The most intense image was of myself lying supine underneath her, my face pinned helplessly under her gorgeous ass as she stroked my cock.” Robert stopped. His breathing was fast and ragged, his heart was racing.

“I see,” Weiss said. “How does this all make you feel?”

“I’m desperate,” Robert moaned. “I can’t stop thinking about her. The love…the desire…it’s tearing me apart. I need your help. You have to help me work through this…to fight to reclaim myself.”

“Hmmm….” Weiss began, “I think that I know what will help.”

Weiss rose and walked to stand over the patient. This confused Robert: Weiss looked much taller than usual. Why was Weiss’s head so far above? Robert realized with a start that he was not lying on a reclining couch. He was on the carpet, on the floor.

“Look at me, Robert. Tell me what you see,” Weiss ordered.

Robert looked, and as he did the image of Dr. Weiss changed. The drab lines of Weiss’s khaki pants dissolved into the voluptuous curves of a woman’s shapely legs. The brown loafers that had been planted right next to Robert’s head became black stiletto heels.

“I was very interested in what you had to confess,” a voice above Robert declared. It was not the voice of Robert’s therapist, but the velvety tones of Goddess Marquesa. Comprehension dawned on Robert in a flash. He was in his own office, where he had been since Goddess Marquesa came in for her interview. He did not remember how he had wound up on the floor, or why he ever thought that he had been on Dr. Weiss’s couch. 

Robert tried to move. He could not. “P…please Goddess…,” he stuttered, “I d…didn’t m-mean to be rude. Have m…mercy….”

“I’ll be gentle, Doctor,” Goddess Marquesa cooed. “This will all be over in a little while….just relax….”

Robert lay frozen and wide-eyed as Goddess Marquesa’s ass descended over his face. Her skirt surrounded his field of vision, his mouth and nose were pressed against the strap of her thong. Violently conflicting feelings tore at his soul. He loved his freedom. He loved Goddess Marquesa. As she grabbed his cock and began to stroke he fought, but he could feel her winning. She was taking him. Binding him. Absorbing him. It was terrifying. It was torture. It felt so good. So good. So good to lose….so good to surrender…. so good…to be….Her….slave.

The End